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Toby didn’t remember falling asleep.
Felt like a dream.
Dad said something.
“What?”
“Stand — up.”
Squeezed.
Thunder.
Eyes wouldn’t focus.
Dizzy.
Nauseated.
Not in bed.
Or his room.
He was sitting in a big wooden chair on a thin cushion.
His eyes focused.
Across the room, someone faced the other way, working on something. The metal-on-metal clang echoed off the gray stone walls.
Her long brown hair shimmered in the candlelight and flowed over a leather tunic.
Gigantic shadows danced with the flickering flames of several candles. The smoke rose into exposed rafters and a sharply slanted roof.
The walls were rough-hewn stones covered with weapons. A broadsword hung by a saber and rapier on one wall. A chain mace, spear, and a pike hung next to a crossbow, longbow, and quiver.
He turned to find a tapestry behind him: a man in a hero pose, looking up into the light, shirt in shreds, with two hands holding up some type of glowing green object.
A cold draft caressed Toby’s face. The tapestry moved in the breeze, revealing a window, stars, and a small pile of snow.
The scent of burning cedar mixed with the aroma of candle wax.
“Hello,” she said.
Toby looked up and felt his jaw drop. He tried to control his gaze.
He stood up, half expecting to be in his underwear.
No, but instead of pants, he wore some rough breeches and boots. And his shirt seemed more like a burlap sack.
She motioned toward the large wooden door and stopped at the worktable.
She picked up a sword; extensive scroll work flashed in the yellow candlelight. She turned the blade toward him.
He stepped back.
She giggled, put the blade into an ornate leather sheath, and turned the handle toward him.
He hesitated.
“Ye must have yer sword when ye meet Fatha.” Her accent made ‘sword’ sound like ‘sard.’
He caught a whiff of her perfume: mossy with floral notes, which prevented concentration on anything else.
“Ye coming?”
He followed her down a couple of poorly lit hallways.
Thunder rocked the castle.
Dust settled down from the ceiling.
“That’s rare,” he said.
“What?”
“Thunder snow.”
She kept walking. “That’s no’ thunder.”
Another blast drove them to their knees. More dust coated the floor.
She regained her feet, brushed her tunic, and started walking again.
Ears ringing, he said, “What was that?”
With a furrowed brow but not slowing her pace, “Ye honestly don’t know?”
Another blast, this one more distant, echoed through the halls.
“What-?”
Medieval soldiers came rattling up the hall.
Dad grabbed his arm.
Something squeezed.
The next blast made him sit up.
The world spun.
He probed the darkness, hearing only wind and rain.
Where did she go?
Heart pounded in his chest. He called her-
He didn’t know her name.
Another flash washed over the room, and just before the window-rattling boom, he recognized his new bedroom.
He flipped the light switch, but nothing happened.
His clock showed 2:35am.
Wow: no more pizza or castle movies at bedtime.
***
The following school day was no different, except no one assaulted him (bird or human), and no chest pains.
He saw a couple of the goons, but he wasn’t on their agenda today. A teacher said something to one of them, but their target said nothing.
Toby never reported anything, either. The teachers and police didn’t protect him as promised, and the goons could beat up Chase and/or slash Mom’s tires. Again.
After supper, he did homework while watching TV and playing that video game.
The yawns started coming in fits.
In the dream, Chase mumbles something
Back in the room with all the weapons.
Same dream?
No, Chase wasn’t in it before, and he heard children playing somewhere below. He looked at the edge of the tapestry to see sunlight.
She said, “Good morning,” but it sounded like ‘marnin.’
“Um... Morning.”
“Hungry?”
He almost said no, but his stomach disagreed. “I guess.”
He noticed a shield with red and blue fields, two crossed swords, and three roses in an arc across the top. She must have seen him looking. “Yer sword is ready, and I need to polish yer shield.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “Um, thanks.”
They walked into the hall. Many people crowded the corridor, a sharp contrast to the last dream’s deserted hallways.
Was this like that flying dream? He looked out the window and-
“Fatha wants to meet ye this time.”
“Um, sure.”
“Ye know what’s happening, right?”
His look must have answered.
“Come with me.” She led him through several corridors and into a kind of dining area, complete with the aroma of eggs and cooked meat.
Someone whispered, “Tobias.”
Toby turned, but everyone avoided his gaze.
More whispers spread across the dining area.
“Gi’ him some room,” said the girl, and people cowered.
She pointed to a table on one side of the room. The few people in line stepped aside, their eyes cast down.
Toby picked up a metal plate, fork, knife, and cup. She led the way to the serving line.
The food looked... less than appetizing.
She must have read his expression, “Food is always scarce.”
Several children grinned at him, giggled, darted behind their parent’s legs, and peeked at him again.
Their parents quickly averted their gaze.
She led him to a table next to a window, and they ate in silence.
The view outside the window revealed rolling hills to the east, some covered with snow-encrusted trees. The first green shoots of spring popped through the snow in several places.
Someone laughed and Toby’s blood went cold.
Toby stood up
“Surprised?” Raymond said. He wore that same stupid grin, like when his gang pulled Toby’s head from the toilet bowl.
A kid stood next to Raymond.
Wait. It was that little kid from behind the school. Behind Raymond stood two goons who watched the door while the three other goons used Toby like a toilet brush.
Dreams are so weird.
“You remember my cousin?” Raymond wrapped one of these stubby, meaty paws around the kid’s neck.
He scanned for other threats.
“Ye all right?” Lela asked.
A sea of faces looked at him.
“No one will harm us here.”
Yeah. You’re a dream.
She touched his arm, and they both jumped.
“Tobias?”
He glanced at her, then back at the room.
“Are ye finished?”
Confused, he followed her gaze toward the food. He gave a curt nod, and the plates disappeared.
“Has he seen father yet?” Raymond said.
Lela gave a quick, silent shake of her head.
Of course, they’re related. Wouldn’t be a nightmare without psychotic connections.
Toby stepped back further, head on a swivel.
He didn’t see any weapons.
Everyone stared at him.
Creepy, but nothing like that underwater cave dream.
Not that again.
He stood at the doorway.
Please, not the giant, red-legged spiders again.
“Ready?” she asked. “Fatha’ is waiting.”
He took a couple of hesitant steps.
She led the way.
Nothing ate her.
He looked down, expecting to see only his underwear.
Nope, though instead of pants, he wore-
“Ye coming?”
They walked back to that room with the big chair, the tapestry, and the sword.
She handed over the sword and shield.
Why does he need a weapon?
Would a dream sword do anything against giant dream spiders?
As they walked down the passages, he remembered the explosions but didn’t see any damage.
He smiled and shook his head: why is he worried about dream damage to a dream castle?
“Something funny?”
The smile melted away. “No.”
Up some stairs, and several turns later, she led him to a large room stuffed with random piles and stacks of books, scrolls, and various pieces of equipment
But something caught his eye: a golden globe with sharp blades sticking out in all directions. The ball floated like those magnetic toys at the novelty store, and metal inlays covered the wooden pedestal.
A small gust of wind came through an open window, and the orb rotated.
“You have good taste,” croaked a voice behind him.
Toby turned, and the face made him say, “Oh!”
The old man shook his head. His face was a patchwork of scar, like from a burn, and his eyes looked like an icy mist on a cold dead morning, but he was not blind.
What kind of stupid dream is this?
The tall old man shuffled and limped. “I am Sklavos. You will call me Teacher.” His eyes narrowed, and he extended an equally damaged right hand.
“Yes, sir, um, Teacher.” Toby gently closed his hand around the old, withered paw.
The hand clamped like a trap.
Teacher’s face remained unchanged as he increased the pressure.
“Hey!”
Teacher released, but his gaze remained locked on Toby, “Not as frail as I appear.”
“Yes, sir, um, no, sir. I mean... no, Teacher.” He rubbed his hand.
The old head nodded. “You are Tobias?”
He nodded. “Toby.”
“Toby is a pet’s name.”
“Tobias is a stupid name.”
Eyes flared, Lela said, “Ye will be respectful-”
“Lela.” Teacher said.
She stopped. She stepped back, head down. “Sorry, Fatha.”
Chase randomly appeared.