pointed at Sunny and motioned for her to remain behind. She crinkled her azure-blue eyes behind her granny glasses and smiled, then slipped off and strung her reflex composite bow. The Mercutio of the pair, she called herself White-lion in the Dreamworld, though she seemed more golden with her huge mane of gamboge hair and her buff complexion. She preferred comfortable traveling clothes, such as a long skirt, a sleeveless shirt that bared her midriff, and an open jacket, all of which did little to hide her voluptuous figure, along with leather boots and gloves, and a Robin Hood hat with a large golden plume. Her costume often led assailants to underestimate her, but her prowess with the bow and her magical talent prevented most attackers from getting close, and those few who did discovered she was equally adept with a quarterstaff or dagger.
Differel removed her hat and passed it to Sunny. The broad floppy brim provided excellent shading from the sun, but it would be more of a hindrance than a help in clandestine activity. She focused on Eile and indicated for her to start before her. Eile responded with a grin and a wink of an indigo-blue eye. Differel gave them both an a-okay sign as she pulled out a pistol, before turning and darting across the opening of the break to the other side. When she looked back, she saw Eile peeking into the courtyard. The sober, rock-solid member of the duo, she went by the name of Braveheart. She was thinner and tougher than her partner, with a long seal-brown ponytail and forelocks dyed a vivid fuchsia framing her ochre-toned face. She preferred to duel with her opponents face-to-face, and like a typical knight-errant she wore armor: a hauberk of cuir bouilli covered with bronze metal scales, an armoured bustier, and shoulder guards over a leather unitard, with gloves and boots. She had no helmet, but carried a wooden shield faced with metal strapped to her back, which she used to good effect with her broad, short-bladed sword.
Eile glanced at her and flashed a thumbs up. She put an arm around Sunny and gave her a quick smooch on the lips, then waited as her partner aimed high and fired an arrow over the wall. It whistled as it flew and clattered against rocks behind the Leng Men. As soon as they turned to see what had made the noise, including Victor, Eile slipped inside and made off along the wall's inner perimeter. Her destination was a collapsed tower further down the circumference that would put her behind and to one side of the Leng Men. Differel let her make the first move because she had the farthest to go.
As soon as she passed beyond the firelight, Differel looked at Sunny and nodded. She returned it and nocked another arrow. She fired again in a different direction and Differel ducked around the corner of the break. At the same moment, however, the Leng Man on the opposite side of the fire glanced in her direction, and she threw herself face-down behind a line of tall weeds along the inner side of the wall. The Lengite frowned and looked past his fellows, as if trying to get a better look at something he glimpsed for a moment. Differel lay still and held her breath. Her blood-red great coat, forest-green trousers, and mud-brown boots and gloves were dark enough to blend with the shadows, and she turned her face towards the ground to hide her medium-tan skin, but her long smoke-gray hair might be visible if the light was right. After a few moments, however, the Leng Man turned his attention back to his companions and took a drink from his bottle.
Exhaling a quiet sigh, Differel crawled along the edge of the wall until she reached the side of Victor's building. Standing, she flattened her back to the structure and looked out into the courtyard. The Leng Men were still preoccupied with their reverie. Gazing across the open area, she saw Eile wave at her from behind the tower. She was in position.
Differel signaled her acknowledgement, then turned away from the corner and moved towards the back of the building. The space behind it lay in shadow almost to pitch blackness, except for a light that spilled out a hole onto the curtain wall. A man-shaped shadow played over the stone blocks, flickering with the campfire.
She groped through the darkness, feeling her way with her free hand on the building. When she reached where the light came from, she found an opening big enough to step through. The room beyond consisted of a single large space with four pillars down the center. Three yaks were tethered to one side, and their packs stacked nearby against the far wall. Almost directly across from her she saw Victor silhouetted against the firelight.
Holstering the pistol, she crawled through the hole and deftly sprinted across the room to stand on the left side of the threshold. Victor stood taller than her by a head, with a strong svelte body. That handsome, angular face, with its chiseled, rugged features of a cinema star and wavy collar-length walnut brown hair, could make her swoon like a schoolgirl, though his goatee gave him a diabolical caste.
He stiffened, as if hearing something, and his head twitched as he made ready to turn it.
"Don't look," she whispered.
He relaxed and a faint smile crossed his lips. "I figured you'd come," he murmured. "Did they contact you or Karchedon?"
"Me. As luck would have it, I had just arrived at my mansion in Celephaïs when I received the ransom demand. But I never had any intention of paying."
"That goes without saying, My Love. Is Team Girl with you?"
"Naturally."
"I expected you sooner."
"Bloody cheek. I stalled the negotiations as long as I could, but I wasn't able to discover where they were holding you, so I arranged to make the exchange here at noon tomorrow, and I insisted they bring you along. I refused to cooperate unless I could see you were alive and well."
"I appreciate that. You do realize this is a trap."
"Of course. I'm well aware of the various rewards the Moonbeasts and others have offered for my head. I calculated they would arrive ahead of us to set up their ambush, so we got here early."
"Well, better late than never, I suppose."
"You're one to talk. I'm still trying to figure out how you got yourself into this mess."
"I'd be more than happy to enlighten you later."
"We have some time. I want to wait for them to get good and plastered. Besides, the Punicae authorities were less than forthcoming."
"Very well. Queen Elishat had sent me on a mission to Lelag-Leng."
Victor had been a British diplomat in the Waking World before he died, and he continued that profession in the Dreamlands, only now he worked for the city-state of Karchedon, which ruled the island-nation of Punica.
"She commanded me to keep a low profile, so as not to raise suspicion. I decided to travel as a trader, and I had hired these four 'gentlemen' to be my escort. One of them must've recognized me, or they were tipped off. Either way, they kidnapped me as soon as we arrived in the Northern Lands. The rest you know."
"Why didn't you wait until my next Dream cycle?"
"I couldn't; the mission was time sensitive, and frankly you're too recognizable." He then shrugged. "Besides, this isn't the first time I've done something like this. Now, if you don't mind, I would appreciate being rescued."
"Hmph. A damsel you're not."
"I couldn't agree more, though I find the parallels amusing, and I'd be more than happy to offer the usual reward. But, seriously, could we table this discussion for another time? I really would like to be set free sooner than later."
"Patience." She examined his bonds. His wrists were secured by ropes looped around the lintel through gaps between the masonry. She could see no slack, but the cords ran along the underside of his palms and wrists.
A half-smile tugged at her mouth. "I have an idea."
"A successful one, I hope."
"It will be tricky. I'll need you to stay perfectly still."
"I believe I can manage that."
She grinned at his sarcastic tone. He didn't like taking a passive role.
"I'll be right back." She patted him on the rump as she retreated into the middle of the room. She turned and positioned herself until his body blocked her view of the fire, then started forward in a slow and careful manner. She intended to hide herself from the Leng Men as she came up behind him.
The dista
nce between them shrank with interminable slowness, but finally she came close enough to embrace him. "I've arrived. Don't move." He didn't reply, but she didn't expect him to.
She drew her poignard dagger from her belt and crossed her arms over her chest. She opened them across her face and held them on either side of her head. After a moment she raised and spread them until they matched the position and placement of his arms, as near as she could with their height difference.
"Hold the ropes with your hands." He grasped them as if using them for support.
"All right, this is the tricky part. I'm going to try to slip my dagger blade between your wrists and the ropes, then cut the latter, but don't let go."
He gave his head a twitching nod to indicate he understood.
She strained on tiptoes, steadying herself by gripping his other arm, as she stretched to reach his right wrist. She tried poking with the tip of the dagger to slip the long, thin, razor-sharp blade between his wrist and the rope.
"Ouch!" he hissed in a whisper.
She froze as one of the Leng Men looked in their direction, but he only grinned with evil mirth at their captive's apparent discomfort and turned his attention back to his companions.
"That was close," he murmured.
"Hopefully he was too drunk to notice anything. Relax your wrist."
A gap opened up between the rope and his arm, and she inserted the blade through.
"Now, pull the rope taught." He did so, and she started sawing.
"It's working."
"I know, I can feel the strands part."
She sliced through the cord in seconds. "Keep holding the rope. It will look like you're still secure."
"Figured that out the first time."
"Bloody cheek." She lowered her arms and transferred the dagger to her left hand. "I have half a mind to leave you like this while I kill them myself."
She turned her head as she raised her arms, and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Whipping around, she spotted a dark shape fly at her; firelight flickered off the polished blade of a shamshir scimitar. Following through with her turn, she parried the blow with the dagger and lashed out with a jujitsu kick, knocking her attacker back.
"What's happening?" Victor asked.
Coming in April.
From "Dribble & Maggot in the Land of Dreams"
Sir Differel Van Helsing strolled into the recovery room of the infirmary in her manor. Lady Margaret was awake, and she tried to make herself comfortable in the hospital-style bed. She pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
"How do you feel?"
She rubbed her stomach. "Like I was put through a wringer. Just what the hell did that crackbrain do to me!?"
The 'crackbrain' was Dr. Mabuse, the Caerleon Order's resident mad scientist. "She's developed a whole technology based on the Schrodinger wave function. You remember what that is?"
"Barely."
"Never mind. In essence, she used a device that sped up your pregnancy, so you came to term in a few hours instead of nine months."
"And that was better than an abortion how?"
"The baby is alive, and will be adopted by a loving childless couple, anonymously. While you avoided the embarrassment, inconvenience, discomfort, and maternal bonding. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"
"Yes, but I didn't expect it to hurt so bloody much!"
She smirked. "Think of it as payback, for being a selfish slag."
Margaret scowled. "You're all heart, Dribble."
She returned a grin. "What are frenemies for, Maggot?"
"So what happens now?"
"Mabuse says you should rest for a day, but I have a better idea. How would you like a fifteen week vacation? On me?"
She made a sour face. "The way I feel, I'd rather sleep for that long."
Differel chuckled. "Funny you should say that."
Margaret flashed a puzzled look. "Besides, I don't have the time."
She stood up. "Neither do I. Meet me in my bedroom after supper. We leave tonight." She ignored her look of alarmed confusion and hurried out.
"Hey! What about something to eat?"
Differel had already changed into a nightshirt when Margaret arrived. She glanced at Vlad Drakulya standing at the foot of the bed, but ignored the Vampire and came over to her.
"All right, what's going on? This had better not be some kind of sick joke."
She handed her a nightshirt. "Change into this, and I'll explain."
Margaret gave her a dirty look, but started to unbutton her blouse when she glanced at Vlad again. He flashed a predatory leer, and she retreated into the bathroom.
Differel leaned against the doorway and watched her change. "For ten years now I've been going to an alternative universe every night in my sleep."
She paused and gave her a look like she was moony.
"I'm serious. It's called the Dreamlands, and I propose to take you there on an extended stay, to give you a chance to relax and recover."
She slipped the shirt over her head. "Are you saying we'll be asleep for fifteen weeks?"
"No, just fifteen hours. Time is different there. For every hour that passes here, a week goes by there. Your body can get the rest it needs while you mentally get to take four months off from the social and political rat race."
She retreated further into her bedroom as Margaret followed. "So how does this work?"
She sat on her bed. "I can do it automatically, but you'll have to take a drug, a potion if you will. It will put you out for fifteen hours, but also alter your brain chemistry so you can enter the other universe. However, it will keep you asleep until it wears off. I have to take it too, otherwise I could wake up before you do." She sidled across the mattress to give her room to get into bed.
"You mean we won't be able to wake up for all that time? Won't that make us vulnerable?"
"Vlad will watch over us," she said as Margaret crawled in beside her. "And I have my household guard."
"Indeed," he rumbled. "You will be as safe as babes in my arms." He spared them a wolfish grin.
"Behave yourself Thrall. So, are you ready or not?"
She flashed a worried look. "Not, but I'm intrigued. Let's do this."
Differel held up one hand and revealed a pair of small perfume bottles. "Drink this all down." She handed one to her, then pulled the stopper on her own. They downed their contents simultaneously.
Margaret licked her lips. "Mmmm, that was great! Tasted like honey."
Differel handed her bottle to her, and she placed both on the night table. "It's derived from mead. Now, lay down; it takes effect quickly, and you won't even realize it."
They maneuvered to stretch out supine, and she crossed her hands over her diaphragm.
"So, what is this place?" Her voice already sounded drowsy.
"Sort of a sword and sorcery fantasyland," she murmured as she felt herself drift. If Margaret replied, she missed it as she dropped into slumber.
Differel opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and energized. She sat up as Margaret did and they both got out bed.
"What went wrong?"
"Nothing. We're both Dreaming." She headed out of her bedroom; Vlad gave no indication he could see them.
Margaret fell in beside her. "This isn't like any dream I remember."
"No, 'Dreaming', with a capital 'D'. Mabuse believes it's an altered state of consciousness, one that can penetrate dimensional barriers and allow us to travel to the Dreamlands. We're not in the house anymore, or rather our bodies still are but our minds are already roaming. This is a staging area that allows us access to the Lands; like a hallway with many doors in it leading to other universes."
They made their way through the manor to the ground floor, then out into the back garden. Though they encountered servants and guards, none acknowledged their presence, or responded when Margaret tried to talk with them.
"Think of Dickens; 'they are but shadows'. Though I suppose we're really the shadows."
"You always did think too much, Dribble."
At the far end of the garden, before they reached the surrounding security fence, a path that shouldn't have been there led to an opening in the ground surrounded by rose bushes. Steps carved from living rock descended into the earth.
"These are the Seventy Steps to Lighter Slumber. They lead into the Dreamlands, by way of the Cavern of Flame."
"The what?"
"Think of it as a security checkpoint. You need to be cleared before you can enter. I doubt you'll have a problem, but I need to warn you. It's an idiosyncrasy of the Cavern that, even though we'll descend together, each of us will go through it alone. You'll be naked, but it's more like a bared soul. You'll encounter the guardians, but they won't harm you, so don't panic and attack them. If they let you pass, they can answer any question you might have. We'll meet up in the Dreamlands proper after descending the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber. Understood?"
"Yeah, sure; let's get this over with."
"After you, Maggot."
"As it should be, Dribble."
Margaret started down and she followed. Darkness closed in around them, and though only a couple of feet away, she soon lost sight of her frenemy. In typical dream distortion fashion, it seemed to take forever to reach the bottom, but when she did it felt like no time had passed. The cavern had at one time been natural, but it had long since been smoothed over and covered with colorful bas-reliefs. There were no furnishings or lamps, but inside an exit at the back of the cave stood a crystal pillar that encased a column of flame. It provided all the light and heat the cavern needed.
In the center stood two bearded priests wearing long, flowing colorful robes and ornate hats that looked like bishop mitres. They had a youthful appearance with dark hair and eyes, but they always seemed to exude a sense of age greater than she could comprehend. Their names were Nasht and Kaman-Thah, and they served as guardians and gatekeepers.
They bowed, which she returned. "Welcome back, Differel Van Helsing, to the Land of the Dreams of Men. We trust you are well?"
"I am, and I trust all is as it should be?"
"Everything and nothing."
"As always, the Lands are whatever you wish and will make of them."
She grinned; they never did give straight answers. They were probably driving Margaret mad.
That reminded her: "I came with a companion whom I wish to introduce to the Lands. Is she worthy?"
"She is worthy, and welcome."
"You shall meet her again in the Enchanted Woods."
She nodded her head. "Thank you." She hurried passed them and around the Pillar of Fire. On the other side lay a second smaller chamber that contained two tables of green malachite. One had clothing, the other weapons and equipment. The components of her costume never changed: braies for underwear, a long chemise and a pair of tight-fitting trousers, buckled boots, a sleeveless doublet with a high collar, an ascot and gloves, and a red great coat and matching hat with a wide floppy brim. A pair of glasses with large round rims rested on top of the folded apparel. From the other table she took a belt with two holstered pistols along with a pouch of paper cartridges, her