The War for the Waking World

  Somehow, her soldiers were going down too quickly. Kara checked her mental inventory, rapidly counting the threads. In less than an hour, she had lost more than six hundred warriors. Something had to change.

  Kara flashed back into her soldier in the courtyard and sped through the fighting. She kicked a red cap and sent him flying, and then used the momentum to roll underneath a reaching scarecrow. She charged down a corridor, saw the shadow of a lurking spider, knelt, and took aim with some kind of twin-barreled rifle. Kara heard the spider’s hiss as she pulled the trigger. The weapon discharged two glowing spheres, one green and one purple, that swirled around each other until they reached their target. Right in front of the creature’s hideous face, the spheres collided. There was a flash of brilliant white light, and, when Kara got her night vision back, nothing was left of the spider but a blotchy, quivering shadow.

  “Ooh. I like this weapon,” Kara whispered, and then she continued through the passage.

  She emerged in a very quiet section of the fortress that was open to the sky above. The snow was falling heavily now. Big, feathery flakes, whirling and swirling—the wind drove the flakes in a spiral around the base of the tower in the center of the yard. Beyond that, near the opposite wall, a stairway rose and disappeared into a very familiar building.

  “There it is,” Kara hissed. “Rigby’s house.” She drew a second weapon, the revolver, and raced across the yard.

  A deep growl came from her right. Kara turned and found three of her soldiers waiting, but something was wrong with them. They were meandering about, taking exaggerated steps, and stumbling often. They looked dizzy or worse, and, when Kara drew near to them, she saw each knight had his or her helm open. The look on their faces was nothing short of idiotic. Googly eyes, crooked smiles, lopsided eyebrows—the works.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Kara demanded. She was half tempted to fire on them, but her thoughts flew from her mind at the sound of the growl. It was closer. In fact, it was directly behind her.

  Kara was firing her weapon as she turned, but that wasn’t fast enough. She came face-to-face with the largest, furriest Siberian husky she’d ever seen. The thing licked her face, and the whole world turned . . . funny. Kara couldn’t think straight.

  “What am I doing?” she asked, suddenly marveling at the snow. Some part of her mind registered she had a job to do, but there was really no reason to do anything serious, was there?

  FORTY-FOUR

  THEATER OF WAR

  “HEY, BEZEAL,” NICK SAID. “WHAT’S GOING ON WITH Kara? She doesn’t look right.”

  Bezeal glanced up to find Kara swaying where she stood, her expression comically absurd. The merchant’s pinprick eyes went flat for a moment. Then, he rolled up one sleeve and reached for Kara’s hand. The moment his mottled green flesh touched Kara’s knuckle, she snapped from the stupor.

  “What’s going on?” she demanded. “We should have breached their fortress by now.”

  “They messed you up a fair bit,” Nick said. “You should have seen—”

  “Silence!” Kara hissed. “The Dreamtreaders aren’t using lethal force. They are stunning our troops . . . and some other thing. It’s like laughing gas, only worse.”

  “Ahhhh,” Bezeal muttered. “Of violence and death, they’ve had their fill. Pity for them, they miss out on the thrill. Advantage to us, for they are afraid to kill.”

  “That’s it,” Kara said. “It’s time. We go in strong. Nick, find Archer, Rigby, or Doc Scoville—it doesn’t matter which one—and take them out. But if you find Kaylie, notify me immediately.”

  “And how should I do that?” Nick asked. “Shoot up a flare?”

  “If need be.” Kara waved him off dismissively and took to the air. She flew over the battlefield, gazing down at the strange combatants fighting on every inch of the suburban neighborhood street. She let them fight, for she was searching.

  Kara soared over the parapets and scanned the walls. Those horrifying, giant, clown spiders leaped and spat at her, but she easily dodged or swatted them into jelly with a slash of her will.

  “Enough of this,” Kara cried, and from a sturdy hook she pulled the whip. Vorcaust’s Tongue of Fire lashed out into the night. She gave it a violent jerk, snapping it in an earsplitting crack. As if a mighty switch had been thrown, all of Kara’s obsidian knights—wherever they were on the battlefield—kindled with molten light. Their power surged, and they tore into the Dreamtreader-made hosts. Their weapons, now angry orange lances, cut through giant scarecrows by the handfuls. Spiders were left in quivering heaps.

  Nick added to the carnage. The Dreamtreader flew to the top of the double wall and unleashed his chain. First, he whirled it overhead to build momentum until it was nothing but a tornado of metal. As he allowed it to drop to chest level, the chain took out piles of silver knights and their husky steeds. A giant armored frog landed next to Nick, dodged a chain swipe, and then let him have it with a powerful double-legged kick. Nick careened wildly over the edge of the wall, but used his Dreamtreader will to keep from falling. With superhuman speed, he chucked five boomerangs.

  “Away, me beauties!” he shouted, watching them fly.

  Each found its mark. The offending frog fell unconscious from the walls. Two ninjas were f lattened along the parapet. One of the giant scarecrows attempted to catch a boomerang and lost its straw hand at the wrist. The last boomerang turned its head into nothing but a dust cloud.

  A triumphant trumpet blast echoed across the battlefield, followed by a deep, rolling drum. Nick leaped up, climbing the altitude until he could get a better look around. At last he saw them: Archer, Kaylie, Rigby, and Doc Scoville, soaring out of the central keep and coming fast.

  Even with his skills, Nick was no match for those four on his own. Not knowing what else to do, he willed a stout, black pistol into his hands and fired a violent, phosphorescent flare into the snowy night sky.

  From her tower perch not far from Nick’s position, Kara looked up and saw the flare. The blue-white flare arose high above Scoville Manor and like a comet curled in a hook-shaped arc.

  “It’s about time!” Kara shouted, her voice high and intense. “The Dreamtreaders, at last.”

  She leaped from the tower and flew cautiously toward the flare. She wasn’t afraid of any of them—the Dreamtreaders or Rigby and his uncle—but she didn’t want to blunder into a trap set by all four of them either. There!She saw them, all four speeding in her direction, but in that moment, they split up. Two swung eastward, and two continued toward Kara.

  Which ones?she wondered.

  Kara didn’t need to wonder for long, for one of the oncoming enemies landed in the courtyard in the midst of a dozen or more of her obsidian knights. The lone warrior stomped his foot, triggering a blinding flash that sent the knights cartwheeling away.

  Archer,Kara thought.

  She halted in midair to watch the second enemy approach. Whoever it was fired a thick stream of something that looked like ribbons and confetti down onto a group of obsidian knights racing up the inner ramparts. For one minute, the warriors brandished their lance weapons and seemed to have a free run at the inner gatehouse. The next, they were all trapped in a giant moon bounce.

  A moon bounce?It was difficult for Kara to wrap her brain around what she saw. But sure enough, her soldiers were bouncing around within an inflatable square cage. And whatever it was made out of, her troops couldn’t even blast their way out.

  Kaylie,she thought. It has to be.That was the best news she’d had all day.

  First, Kara raced toward Archer. She’d planned this attack a hundred times in her mind, down to the finest detail, and she felt certain it would work. Step one was to distract Archer so she could face Kaylie alone, but she’d have to act fast. Kaylie was still trifling with a threesome of obsidian knights and she’d probably dispatch them soon enough. As Kara dropped to the ground behind Archer, she willed her appearance to change. By the time he had turned around, she
was ready.

  “Why hello, Dreamtreader Keaton,” she said, twirling so her blood-red dress rippled. “Kind of chilly out here. I much prefer my gardens.”

  Archer stood very still, blinking stupidly.

  “What’s the matter, Archer?” she asked. “Cat got your tongue? What a shame. Last time you visited Lady Kasia, you were ever so much better company.”

  “Lady Kasia?” Archer muttered.

  “There,” she said, “you do remember me. I’m flattered. I wonder if you remember my friend here.”

  With a flexing of her will, she left Lady Kasia’s form and stood next to it. This time, Kara wore the Wind Maiden’s spectral gown. “Hurry, Archer Keaton,” she said, feigning fear. “Come to me. I need your help!”

  Archer spun to face her, and that’s when Kara took her leave. She stepped out of the Wind Maiden, garbed herself in black, and took to the air. She left Archer to figure out what to do with Lady Kasia and the Wind Maiden as she sped toward the high tower where Kaylie was battling obsidian knights.

  Kara gained altitude and readied her will to change form again, this time to Kaylie’s mother. Kara hated to play on the girl’s sympathies in such a way, but it had to be done to capture such a powerful Dreamtreader. Kara would appear as Mrs. Keaton, throw Kaylie off balance, and draw near to her. She would tell Kaylie how much she had missed her and would approach Kaylie for an embrace. But the moment Kaylie lifted her arms, Kara would slap a triple-hardened pair of cobalt manacles on her wrists. And that would be that. She—

  Something grabbed Kara’s ankle with a jolting force. Archer. Somehow, he’d seen through her ruse. Kara turned and without thinking unleashed a third of her entire will. She hadn’t meant to throw so much at him at once, but, in her shock, surprise, and fear, she had simply reacted. Her will took the form of a semi-transparent fist, and it struck Archer’s chest dead center.

  The Dreamtreader’s eyes went wide at the impact, wide and still. Kara knew immediately what she had done. She watched his motionless body fall away, that horrid expressionless face obscured by the snow, but still . . . there. It seemed like an eternity, watching him plummet. When he finally hit the courtyard, a sledgehammer of regret struck Kara in the gut.

  What have I done?The thought blazed in crimson through her consciousness, but anger subdued it. This is, after all, what you came to do.And for a moment, she couldn’t tell if the voice in her mind was her own . . . or Bezeal’s.

  A reckless blur flashed past Kara and descended onto the courtyard. Kara dropped from the air and spiraled down. She landed softly on the snowy turf and found Kaylie kneeling by Archer’s ruined form.

  “No, no!” Kaylie cried out. “Archer, wake up! You have to wake up! Please, Archer!”

  Kara approached silently, keeping her path behind Kaylie. She was just a few steps away.

  “You can’t die,” Kaylie sobbed. “You’re not supposed to die. You promised.”

  Kara was right behind the girl now. She was ready. Kara whispered, “Kaylie . . .”

  Kaylie spun around, her face a mix of anguish and fury. “You!” she accused, and she thrust out her hands—

  But no power of will came forth. In a breathless second, Kara clamped the cobalt manacles onto Kaylie’s wrists. “I am sorry, Kaylie,” Kara said. “But it’s for your own good.”

  Kaylie said nothing in return. She went absolutely blank-faced and mute. Shock, Kara thought. Poor thing.

  Kara flexed her will, lifting herself and Kaylie into the air.

  “Hooooroooo!” came a cry from above, as Nick Bushman floated down to meet Kara.

  “Rigby and Doctor Scoville?” Kara asked.

  “Dead as a Tasmanian tiger,” Nick replied. “Color me gobsmacked, but I thought they’d put up more of a fight.”

  Kara shrugged. “They were overwhelmed,” she said, “and . . . they were afraid to kill. I imagine they used a great deal of their mental will to immobilize our forces, rather than taking them out entirely.”

  “Ah,” Nick replied, “that was a mistake, fair Dinkum.” His eyes narrowed. “You managed to capture the girl. What happened to Archer?”

  Kara shook her head slowly. “He’s down below.”

  Nick hovered to his left. He squinted, and then his eyes widened. “Dooley! You fair ruined him, didn’t ya?”

  “It couldn’t be helped,” Kara replied, looking away. “It’s what we came here to do. Now, come on, we’ve still work to do tonight.”

  “We just gonna leave the bodies?” Nick asked.

  “The Harlequin Veil will hide them,” Kara said. “And in Archer’s father’s mind anyway, his whole family will be united and happy for the rest of their days.”

  Nick nodded slowly and shrugged. Then, he flew off toward Bezeal and their portal back to the Dream Tower.

  Kara glanced at her captive Kaylie. The girl was still limp and expressionless. Kara took one last look at Archer Keaton. He’d been a friend once. And he’d been a formidable enemy. It is a shame that—Kara froze, staring down at the body.

  No, she thought, her mind fraying at the edges. No, it’s not possible.

  FORTY-FIVE

  ANCHOR PROTOCOL

  KARA GAPED DOWN AT ARCHER KEATON’S PRONE FORM. At first, she thought it had been a trick of the falling snow. But slowly, as she descended closer and closer to the body, the details came into sharper focus. Archer’s body seemed to be decaying . . . decaying at an alarming rate. But the way his flesh peeled away—something was very wrong.

  The swirling wind threw waves of snow in every direction. Its currents swept over Archer’s body, taking layers away at a time. Layers of ash.

  Kara turned just in time to see Kaylie’s form crumbling. The cobalt shackles no longer had anything of substance to which to cling and fell away. Kaylie’s form flew away in an ashen whirl, and then was gone.

  “No!” Kara cried out.

  “What is it, mistress?” Nick called back.

  “Shut up, you worthless thing!” Kara screamed. “We’ve been had! This . . . this is all a diversion.”

  “Diversion from what?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. She was more focused on the preternatural silence that had descended onto the battlefield. Snow had a way of muffling sound, but it wasn’t that. She began to race around the fortress, but, no matter where she looked, the scenes were all the same: her soldiers, all the enemy soldiers as well, lay still. The spiders and marshmallow warriors and all of the Dreamtreaders’ forces were actively dissolving to ash. Her soldiers lost their obsidian armor. They were plain human beings once more, disoriented and shivering in the snow.

  “No,” Kara whispered, “no, no, no, no, no, no! I can feel it. I can feel my power draining!”

  “What?”

  “They’re reversing the Rift!” Kara spat. “I don’t know how, but they’re turning it back. I can feel it.”

  Nick asked, “What do we do?”

  “We’ve got to get back to the Dream Tower!” Kara said. “We’ve got to stop them!”

  “Keep it up!” Doc Scoville commanded over the com link. “Remember, your creation must be large enough to reach the EM levels noted. Eleven teslas . . . no more, no less.”

  “Got it, Doc!” Archer yelled over the whipping wind. He and Kaylie stood in the midst of Prairie Creek Redwood Park in Northern California. The colossal trees were swaying, especially the new ones.

  “How many more?” Kaylie cried out from approximately sixty yards away.

  “We’re at nine teslas!” he yelled back. “We’re going to need a bunch!”

  “Got it!” Kaylie turned back to the forest and summoned up her will. Not ten feet away, the turf erupted as a towering sequoia thrust up out of the ground and surged skyward. While that one reached its full, mature height of 375 feet, Kaylie turned, hovered away, and created a new one.

  “That’s perfect!” Archer yelled. “We’re almost there!”

  “It’s getting harder!” Kaylie cried out. “Can you
feel it?”

  Archer frowned. Getting harder?With all the momentum generated by the surging EM waves, it should be getting easier.

  Archer turned to his side of the new forest, called up some will, and created a massive Sierra redwood. This time, it hurt. “What . . . was that?” Archer muttered. He hit his com link. “Doctor Scoville, come in!”

  “Here, Archer,” came the doctor’s static-filled voice. “What is it?”

  “We’re getting some pushback or something,” Archer explained. “It’s getting harder to create things this big.”

  The com link was silent.

  “Doctor Scoville?”

  “I was afraid of that,” came the reply, so low it was almost inaudible over the wind. “As we push back the Rift, as we restore the normal EM balance, we’re beginning to lose the extra power it granted us.”

  “’ow far, Uncle?” Rigby cried out into his com link. He stood on the massive left shoulder of Christ the Redeemer, the statue of Jesus that overlooked Rio de Janeiro from the top of Corcovado Mountain. While Archer and Kaylie were pushing EM waves from the east to the west in California, Rigby and his uncle were pushing from west to east from Rio. If Doc Scoville’s calculations were correct and their efforts strong enough, they might just be able to push the waves back into their natural location. Rigby clicked his com link again. “Uncle Scovy, ’ow . . . much . . . more?”

  “Not much,” Doc Scoville replied. “One more statue should do it. My calculations make it approximately eighty feet tall with a mass of 635 metric tons.”

  “I’ll get it.” Rigby thought for several moments. What’ll it be this time?He had already created monumental statues of the British Brawler, a favorite comic hero from his past, as well as Sherlock Holmes, Winston Churchill, and King Arthur. Who now?Then, he blinked. “Of course!”

  Rigby poured will into this invention and focused down Corcovado’s slope. He built a tall figure, standing upon a hexagonal pedestal. Slowly, it took shape and grew, layer upon layer. Rigby kept one eye on his digital display. Up the statue went, nearly eighty feet. A few more details, and he was finished. But the digital display showed the statue still short a few metric tons.