CHAPTER SEVEN

THE RIVER OF DREAMS

Leaving the hollow with Ariella, Puck, and Grimalkin, I was eerily reminded of another journey, one that was disturbingly similar to this. I believe the human saying was déjà vu, and it did seem strange, traveling with very nearly the same companions as before. Myself, Grimalkin, Robin Goodfellow…and a girl. It was strange; not very long ago, I’d thought Meghan reminded me of Ariella, but now, watching my old love glide through the mist as she led us out of the hollow, my only reflection was how similar—and how different—Ariella was to Meghan.

I pushed those thoughts away, focusing only on the task at hand. I could not let myself be distracted from my goal. I could not start comparing the two, the love from the past and the girl I would do anything for, because if I did I would go mad.

The Wolf joined us almost as soon as we left the hollow, materializing from the darkness without a sound. He sniffed Ariella curiously and wrinkled his muzzle at her, but she gazed at him calmly, as if she had expected him. No introductions were made, and the pair seemed to accept each other without reservation.

Leaving the hollow behind, we made our way through a forest of thorn trees, bristling and unfriendly, with bits of bone, fur and feathers impaled between them. Not only were the trees covered in thorns, the flowers, the ferns, even the rocks were all pointed and barbed, making it important to watch where we put our feet. Some of the trees had taken offense to our presence, or were simply bloodthirsty, for every so often they would take a swipe at us with a gleaming, bristling branch. I noticed, with a certain annoyance, that they left the Wolf completely alone, even moving aside for him to pass before taking a swat at me if I followed. After dodging several of these assaults, I finally grew tired of the game and drew my sword. When I sliced through the next thorny limb that whipped out at my face, the trees finally left us alone. For the most part.

“What is she like?” Ariella asked suddenly, surprising me. She had been quiet up until now, wordlessly leading the way until the closeness of the thorns forced her to ease back, to let me go first with my weapon. A longbow of gleaming white wood lay strapped to her back—she had always been a deadly archer—but the only blade she carried was a dagger.

Caught off guard by her question, I blinked at her, confused and wary. “I thought you already knew.”

“I knew of the girl, yes,” Ariella replied, ducking a vine covered in thin, needlelike barbs. “But only flashes. The visions never showed me more than that.”

Behind us, Puck’s gleeful whoop rang out as he dodged an attack, followed by the rustle of several trees that continued to swipe at him as he danced around. He was obviously enjoying himself, and probably stirring the forest’s ire to even greater heights, but at least his attention was elsewhere. Grimalkin had long disappeared into the thorny undergrowth, stating he would meet us on the other side, and the Wolf’s dark form was padding ahead, so it was just me and Ariella.

Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, I turned away, hacking through a suspicious-looking branch before it could lunge at me. “She’s…a lot like you,” I admitted, as the tree rattled in outrage. “Quiet, naive, a little reckless at times. Stubborn as a—” I stopped, suddenly self-conscious, feeling Ariella’s gaze on the back of my neck. “Why are you asking me this?”

She chuckled. “I just wanted to see if you would answer. Remember how difficult it was getting any real answers out of you before? Like pulling teeth.” I grunted and continued clearing the way, and she followed close behind. “Well, don’t stop there, Ash. Tell me more about this human.”

“Ari.” I paused, as memories rose up, both blissful and painful. Dancing with Meghan. Teaching her to fight. Being forced to walk away as she lay dying beneath the limbs of a great iron oak. A root took advantage of my moment of distraction and tried to trip me, but I sidestepped and moved us both away. “I can’t…talk about it right now,” I told Ariella, whose sympathetic gaze read far too much. “Ask me again some other time.”

* * *

AS WE LEFT THE FOREST of thorns, darkness fell very suddenly, as if we’d crossed some invisible barrier into Night. One moment, we were in the perpetual gray twilight of the wyldwood and the next, it was pitch-black except for the stars. And a new sound began to filter through the silence of the forest, faint at first but growing ever stronger. A constant murmur that slowly progressed to a dull roar, until we finally emerged from the trees to stand on the banks of a great black river.

“Wow,” Puck mused, standing beside me. “The River of Dreams. I’ve only seen it a few times before, but it never ceases to amaze me.”

I agreed with him, albeit silently. The surface of the river was black as night, reflecting the star-filled sky above and stretching on and on, until you couldn’t tell where the water ended and the sky began. Moons, comets and constellations rippled on the surface, and other, stranger things floated upon the misty black waters. Petals and book pages, butterfly wings and silver medals. The hilt of a sword stuck out of the water at an odd angle, the silver blade tangled with ribbons and spiderwebs. A coffin bobbed to the surface, covered in dead lilies, before sinking into the depths once more. The debris of human imagination, floating through the dark waters of dream and nightmare. Swarms of fireflies and will-o’-the-wisps floated and bobbed above the waves like moving stars, adding to the confusion. This was the last familiar border of the wyldwood. Beyond the river was the Deep Wyld, the vast, uncharted territory of the Nevernever, where legends and primeval myths roamed or slept, where the darkest and most ancient creatures lurked in obscurity.

The Wolf gazed across the water, calm, unruffled, almost bored. I had the feeling he had seen the River of Dreams many times before, and wondered how far downstream he had been, if he made his home in the Deep Wyld himself.

I looked at Ariella. “Where to now, Ari?”

The lights of the river reflected in her eyes, and will-o’-the-wisps darted around her, burrowing into her hair. Standing there on the riverbank, glowing and wraithlike, she looked as insubstantial as mist. Raising a pale, delicate hand, she pointed downstream.

“We follow the river. It will take us where we need to go.”

“Into the Deep Wyld.”

“Yes.”

“How far?” The River of Dreams supposedly ran forever; no one had ever been to the end of it, at least, no one who had survived to tell the tale.

Her eyes were as distant as the stars overhead. “Until we reach the edge of the world.”

I nodded. Whatever it took, I was ready, even if it was impossible. “Let’s get going, then.”

A familiar gray cat sat on a barrel half-submerged in the mud at the river’s edge, lazily swatting at fireflies that bobbed overhead. As we approached, a large wooden raft, covered in algae and trailing ribbons of weed, broke from a cluster of branches and floated toward us, unmanned. The planks were wide and sturdy, the logs holding it up thick and enormous, and it was large enough for even an enormous wolf to sit comfortably. A long wooden pole rested at the back, half-underwater.

“Oh, hey—look at that,” Puck said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. “Seems like the river knew we were coming. I’ll drive.”

I put my arm out as he started forward. “Not a chance.”

“Psh. You never let me do anything.”

The Wolf curled his lip in distaste, eyeing the raft as if it might lunge at him. “You expect to reach the End of the World on that? Do you know the things that live in the River of Dreams? And we’re not even at the nightmare stretch yet.”

“Aw, is the Big Bad Wolfie afraid of a few nasty fish?”

The Wolf gave him a baleful stare. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen some of the fish in the Deep Wyld, Goodfellow. But more important, how will you ever reach the End of the World if I bite your head off?”

“It’s all right,” Ariella said quietly before we could respond. “I’ve seen us…following the river to the end. This is the way we need to go.”

The Wolf snorted. “Foolish,” he growled, but hopped lightly onto the wooden planks. The raft rocked under his weight, splashing water over the edge, but held. “Well?” He turned, glaring back at us. “Are we going to get this absurdity under way, or not?”

I helped Ariella into the boat, then stepped onto the platform near the back, grabbing the long wooden pole. As Puck entered, looking pensive, I nodded at Grimalkin, still sitting on the barrel. “You coming or not, cait sith?”

He gave the raft a dubious glance, curling his whiskers. “I suppose I must if I wish to see you to the End of the World.” Standing, he tensed his muscles to leap off the barrel, but hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “Although, I will issue this one warning. If I end up in the river because some idiot decides to rock the boat—” he flattened his ears at Puck, who gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence “—I know several witches who would be happy to bring down a particularly potent curse on said idiot’s head.”

“Wow, if I had a favor for every time someone said that to me…”

Grimalkin did not look amused. Shooting Puck one last feline glare, he leaped to the edge of the raft, walked gracefully along the edge, and sat at the bow, facing out like a haughty figurehead. I gave the pole a push, and the raft moved smoothly into the River of Dreams, gliding toward the End of the World.

* * *

FOR A WHILE, THE RIVER was smooth. Except for the occasional bump of dream debris colliding with the raft, we slid through the water with hardly a ripple. More strange objects floated by us: love letters and wristwatches, stuffed animals and limp balloons. Once, Puck reached down and snatched up a faded copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, grinned like an idiot and tossed it back into the river.

How long we floated down the river, I didn’t know. The night sky, both above and around us, never lightened. The Wolf lay down, put his head on his enormous paws and dozed. Puck and Ariella spoke quietly in the center of the raft, catching up on many years of separation. They sounded at ease with each other, comfortable and content, and Ariella’s laughter floated up occasionally, something I hadn’t heard in a long, long time. It made me smile, but I didn’t join them in reminiscing. Things were still shaky between Puck and me; I knew the dark, lingering memories of the hollow had pushed both of us to the edge that night, and we had, temporarily, put it behind us again, but I didn’t trust myself just yet. Besides, I was lost in my own thoughts. Ariella’s previous question had reminded me of the girl I was doing this for. I wondered where she was, what she was doing at that very moment. I wondered if she thought of me, too.

“Prince.” Grimalkin’s voice suddenly drifted up from near my feet. I looked down at the cait sith, standing beside me. “I suggest we stop for a bit,” he said, waving his tail to keep his balance as the raft bobbed up and down in the current. “I am weary of sitting in one place, and I am not the only one.” He nodded to where Ariella and Puck sat together on the planks. Ariella was slumped against Puck’s shoulder, dozing quietly. I felt a tiny twinge of anger, seeing them like that, but Puck glanced back at me, offered a tiny, rueful shrug, and I squashed it down. It was ridiculous to be jealous, to feel anything. That part of my life was gone. I might regret it, I might wish it were different, but I could not bring it back. I’d known that for a long time.

I steered the raft to the bank, toward a sandy bar beneath ancient, moss-covered trees. As Puck and I pulled it to shore, Ariella woke, gazing around blearily.

“Where—”

“Relax, Ari. We’re just stopping for a bit.” Puck released the boat and stretched, raising long limbs over his head. “You know, it’s always rafts and skinny little pole boats that you have to suffer through on these types of trips. Why can’t we travel to the End of the World in a yacht?”

The Wolf leaped off the raft and stretched, baring his fangs in an enormous yawn. Shaking water from his fur, he looked around at the enormous trees and panted a grin. “I’m off to hunt,” he stated simply. “It shouldn’t take long.” He glanced back at me, wrinkling his long muzzle. “I’d advise you not to venture into the forest, little prince. You’re in the Deep Wyld now, and I’d hate to come back to find you all eaten. Well, except for the cat. He can get himself eaten anytime he wants.” With that, he turned and bounded off, his black form merging with the shadows.

A few seconds later, we realized Grimalkin had also vanished. He’d probably slipped away into the forest as soon as the boat had touched ground, with no explanation and no hint to when he’d return. That left the three of us, alone.

“You know, we could just leave them,” Puck suggested, grinning to show he wasn’t completely serious. “What? Don’t give me that look, Ari. Wolfman is probably right at home, and we couldn’t get rid of Furball even if we wanted to. We’d be halfway to the End of the World and find him sleeping at the bottom of the boat.”

Ariella continued to frown disapprovingly, and Puck threw up his hands. “Fine. Guess we’re stuck here until their furry highnesses deign to show up again.” He eyed each of us in turn, then sighed. “Right, then. Camp. Food. Fire. I’ll get right on that.”

* * *

NOT LONG AFTER, a cheerful fire crackled in a shallow pit, trying valiantly to throw back the darkness, failing to do so. The shadows seemed thicker near the River of Dreams, as if Night itself had taken offense to the flickering campfire and was crowding the edges of the light, seeking to swallow it whole. Light was an intruder here, much as we were.

Ariella sat cross-legged in the sand, idly poking the fire with a stick, while Puck and I attended to the business of finding food. Puck had somehow fashioned a pole from glamour, a stick, and a tangle of string from his pocket, but fishing in the River of Dreams was proving to be a strange and frustrating affair. He managed to pull a couple fish out of the river early, but they were odd, unnatural things: long and black like eels, with oversize teeth that snapped at us when we tried to handle them and bit through the sticks we tried to spear them with. We finally decided it wasn’t worth the hassle of a lost finger and let them flop back into the river. His other catches included a yellow boot, a giant turtle that asked us for a pocket watch, and what looked like a large, normal catfish. That is, until it started sobbing enormous tears, begging us to return it to its family. I might’ve ignored the wailing fish and stuck it over the fire anyway, but the softhearted Goodfellow let it go.

“You realize you’ve just been duped by a fish,” I said, watching the catfish grin at me before slipping into the dark waters, lost from view. Puck shrugged.

“Hey, it was going to name one of its grandfish after me,” he said, tossing the line into the water again. “That’s one of my rules, you know. I refuse to eat anything that names its kid after me.”

“Fish don’t have children,” I deadpanned. “Fish have fry.”

“Even so.”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes and stepped back from the edge. “I’m done with this. Let me know if you manage to catch anything useful.”

I wandered back to the fire, where Ariella looked up and smiled faintly, as if she knew exactly how the fishing had gone.

“Here,” she said, and tossed me a round, pinkish globe. I caught it automatically, blinking as I realized what it was. A peach, fuzzy and soft and nearly the size of my fist. I glanced beside her and saw she had a whole basket of them.

“Where did you find these?” I asked in amazement. She chuckled.

“The river,” she replied, nodding to the dark, glittering water. “You can find almost anything a human would dream of, provided you know what to look for. While you and Puck have been wrestling with nightmares, I just keep an eye on the surface and let the dream debris come.”

“Sounds like you’ve done this before,” I said, taking a seat beside her.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I’ve never been to the river in person. But as a seer I can sometimes see into dreams, whether they be faery or mortal. Dreamwalking, I believe it’s called. And sometimes, I can even shape those dreams, make a person see what I want them to.”

“Like you did with mine.”

She was silent a moment, gazing back into the fire. “Yes,” she murmured finally. “I’m sorry, Ash. But I wanted you to see what would’ve happened if Meghan had lost. I wanted you to understand why I chose what I did, even though I knew it would hurt.”

“Did you…” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “Did you see my dreams…before?” Before I found Meghan, before I learned to freeze out my emotions—the nightmares that kept me awake at night, because I knew closing my eyes would force me to live that day over and over again.

Ariella shivered, drawing her knees to her chest, and nodded. “I wished I could have helped you.” She sighed, resting her chin on a knee. “Between you and Puck, it was all I could do not to let you know I was still alive.”

I frowned. Puck had had nightmares, too? I pushed that thought away, unwilling to dwell on it. If he had been suffering like me, good. He deserved it. “So,” I asked, changing the subject, “what comes next?”

Ariella sighed. “I don’t know,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Everything is so hazy now. I’ve never been this far into the wyldwood.”

“I haven’t, either.”

“But that doesn’t worry you, does it?” She hugged herself and gazed out over the river. “You’ll do whatever it takes, won’t you? You’ve always been that way. Completely fearless.” She shivered again and closed her eyes, seeming to sink into herself. “I wish I could be like that.”

“I’m not fearless,” I told her. “There are a lot of things that scare me.” Failure. My own savage, Unseelie nature. Being unable to save those I had sworn to protect. Having my heart ripped from me once more. “I’m not fearless,” I said again. “Not by a long shot.”

Ariella gave me a sideways glance, as if she knew what I was thinking. “Yes, but you aren’t afraid of the things the rest of us are afraid of,” she said wryly. “The things that should terrify you don’t.”

“Like what?” I challenged, mostly to get her talking, to argue with me as she had before. This new Ariella, quiet and sad, bowed under the weight of terrible knowledge and countless secrets, was more than I could take. I wanted her to laugh again, to smile like she used to. Grinning, I bit into the peach, adopting a careless, defiant posture. “Name something you think I should be afraid of.”

“Dragons,” Ariella said immediately, making me snort. “Giants, hydras, manticores. Take your pick. Not only do you lack a healthy respect for them, you go charging into their lairs to challenge them to a fight.”

“I have a healthy respect for manticores,” I argued. “And I avoid picking fights with dragons. You’re lumping me together with Goodfellow.”

“Regardless—” Ariella mock-glared at me “—it’s not the same. I have a healthy respect for kelpies, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever go swimming with one.” She wrinkled her nose at me. “Not like you and Puck, seeing how long you could stay on that kelpie’s back without drowning or getting eaten.”

I shrugged. “I know my abilities. Why should I fear something that probably can’t kill me?”

Ariella sighed. “You’re missing the point. Or, perhaps you’re making it for me, I’m not sure.” She shook her head, giving me a lopsided smile, and for a moment, it was like old times again. Me, Puck, and Ariella, braving unknown territory, not knowing what was to come.

I was suddenly aware of how close Ariella was, our shoulders barely touching. She seemed to realize it as well, for we gazed at each other, hardly breathing. The river flowed by us, and farther downstream Puck was shouting something, but for a quiet heartbeat it was just me and Ariella and nothing else.

A yell interrupted us. Puck was on the banks of the river, pulling and yanking at his line, his face intense. From the looks of it, whatever was on the other end was enormous, making the string lurch up and down as it fought. In the center of the river, the water boiled up like a geyser, and Puck yanked harder on the string. Then, with an explosion of debris and mist, a huge serpentine form rose fifteen feet into the air, towering over Puck, holding the line in a curved talon. Blue, green and silver scales glinted in the moonlight as a dragon lowered its massive horned head—mane and moustache rippling behind it—to glare at Puck with somber gold eyes.

“Oh,” Puck said in a breathless voice, staring at it from where he sat in the mud and sand. “Um. Hey.”

The eyes blinked. The solemn gaze shifted to Puck’s left hand, narrowing. Puck looked down. “Oh, the hook.” He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry ’bout that. No harm done, right?”

The dragon snorted, filling the breeze with the scent of fish and cherry blossoms. Rippling like sea waves, it turned and coiled through the air, skimming the surface of the River of Dreams, before it sank beneath the depths once more.

Puck stood, dusted himself off, and sauntered toward us. “Well, that was…interesting.” He grinned. “Guess I’ve been officially slapped on the wrist for fishing in the River of Dreams without a license. Hey, is that a peach?”

* * *

THE WOLF APPEARED sometime later, gliding from the dark with no warning whatsoever, pacing up to the fire. Puck and Ariella were both asleep, peach pits scattered about, and I had taken first watch, sitting on a log with my sword in my lap. Grimalkin had not yet returned, but no one was really worried. It was an unspoken knowledge about the cait sith: he would reappear when it was time to leave.

The Wolf padded into the flickering light and flopped down across from me with a huff. A few feet away, Puck stirred, muttering something about peaches and dragons, but didn’t wake.

The Wolf and I watched each other over the dying campfire for several minutes. “So,” the Wolf began with a flash of bright fangs, “this quest of yours. You never told me much about it, little prince. It would be nice to know the reason behind this insane journey down the River of Dreams. I know you want to reach the End of the World, but I don’t know why. What lies at the End of the World that is so important?”

“The Testing Grounds,” I said quietly, seeing no reason to hide the fact. The Wolf pricked his ears.

“The Testing Grounds,” he repeated, unsurprised, and nodded. “I suspected as much. Then, if you wish to go to the Testing Grounds, you must be looking for something.” He paused, eyeing me over the flames, eyes glowing in the darkness. “Something you lack. Something very important. Your Name? No.” He shook his head, talking more to himself than to me. “I have a feeling you already know your True Name. What, then? You have power. You have immortality, in a sense…” He paused, and his yellow-green eyes turned gleeful. “Ahhh, yes, I know why. There is only one thing left.” He looked up, smiling wickedly. “You’re here because of the girl, aren’t you? You’re hoping to earn a soul.”

I gave him a cold stare. “What do you know about that?”

The Wolf barked a laugh, and Ariella stirred. “I know you are a fool, boy,” he said, lowering his voice to a low rumble. “Souls are not meant for us. They tie you to the world, make you mortal, make you like them. Being human…it will drive you mad, little prince. Especially one like you.”

“What do you mean?”

The Wolf blinked slowly. “I could tell you,” he said quietly, “but it would not sway you. I can smell your determination. I know you will see this through to the end. So why waste the breath?” He yawned and sat up, testing the breeze. “The cat is close. Pity he didn’t get lost.”

I turned just as Grimalkin emerged from the bushes nearby, giving me a bored look. “If you are waiting for sunrise, prince, you are wasting your time,” he announced without preamble, and strode past me with his tail in the air. “The light will not penetrate this far into the Deep Wyld, and we have attracted too much attention sitting around here.” He did not look back as he trotted in the direction of the raft. “Wake the others,” he commanded, his voice drifting back to us. “It is time for us to go.”

The Wolf and I shared a look over the flames.

“I could eat him now,” he offered seriously. I bit down a smirk.

“Maybe later,” I said, and got up to rouse the others.

PUCK WOKE EASILY when I kicked him in the ribs, rolling upright with a wounded yelp, making the Wolf grin with appreciation. “Ow!” he snarled. “Dammit, ice-boy, why don’t you just stick a knife in my ribs and be done with it?”

“I’ve thought about it,” I replied, and knelt to wake Ariella, curled up on her cloak by the fire. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she reminded me, always, of a sleeping cat. She stirred as I touched her shoulder, opening turquoise eyes to blink up at me sleepily.

“Time to go?” she murmured.

And, very suddenly, my breath caught. She looked vulnerable, lying there in the sand, her hair a silver curtain around her head. She looked slight and delicate and breakable, and I wanted to protect her. I wanted to pull her close and shield her from all the dangers in the world, and the realization made my stomach churn.

“Come on,” I said, offering a hand to help her up. Her fingers were soft as I drew her to her feet. “The all-knowing cait sith has returned, and we’ve been ordered to move out.”

That made her smile, as I’d hoped it would, and for half a heartbeat we stood there, gazing at each other in the sand, our faces a breath apart. Her fingers tightened on mine, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed, that Ariella had never died, that we’d returned to a time when we were both happy, where there were no blood oaths between friends and no vow that stood between us.

But, yearning for the impossible didn’t make it so.

Guiltily, I pulled away, breaking eye contact, and Ariella dropped her hands, a shadow darkening her face. Without speaking, we followed Puck toward the raft, where Grimalkin already sat on the edge, thumping his tail with impatience. Behind us, the Wolf trailed silently, but I could feel his ancient, knowing gaze on my back.

Under Grimalkin’s impatient glare, we climbed aboard the raft, shoved off, and the current moved us out into the river once more. No one spoke, though I didn’t miss the cold, angry looks I was receiving from Puck, nor the subtle glances Ariella was shooting my way. I ignored them both, keeping my gaze straight ahead and my eyes trained on the river.

Not long after that, the River of Dreams picked up speed. No longer sleepy and tranquil, it rushed along as if it were fleeing something, a dark and faceless terror that chased it through the night. The debris that floated in the water and knocked against the raft had taken on a macabre feel. Coffins bobbed to the surface, knives and plastic doll heads went spinning by, hockey masks and clown shoes thumped against the front of the boat.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Puck mused, as I barely avoided a collision with a broken tombstone that lurched out of the water. It was the first thing he’d said for several miles, which I thought might be some sort of a record. “What happened to the flowers and butterflies and all the shiny, pretty dream stuff?”

“We’re nearing the nightmare stretch,” the Wolf rumbled ominously. “I told you. You’re not going to like what you see.”

“Freaking fantastic.” Puck shot him a look. “And, uh, does anyone else hear drums?”

“That isn’t funny, Puck,” Ariella chided, but at that moment an arrow thunked into one of the logs, causing everyone to jerk upright.

I looked to the riverbank. Small, pale things scurried through the bushes and undergrowth, keeping pace with the raft. I caught glimpses of round, red eyes, short, bulbous tails and dark cloaks, but it was difficult to see anything through the trees and shadows.

“Okay, natives definitely not friendly,” Puck mused, ducking as another arrow shot overhead. “Hey, cat, any idea what kind of nasties we’ve pissed off so royally?”

Grimalkin, of course, had vanished. More darts filled the air, lodging into the planks or flying past us into the water, some barely missing us. “Dammit,” Puck snarled, “we’re sitting ducks out here.”

With a snarl, the Wolf rose and launched himself, making the raft spin wildly as he landed like a boulder in the river. Fighting the current, he struck powerfully for the shore, ignoring the debris that slammed into him, the water rushing over his body, failing to drag him down.

I smacked another arrow down with my sword and pulled glamour from the air, feeling it swirl around me. With a sharp gesture, I sent a flurry of ice darts into the bushes lining the riverbank. The shards ripped through the leaves, shredding them as they passed, and painful shrieks rose into the air.

Ariella stood, her bow in hand, pulling back the string. She didn’t have a quiver, but glamour shimmered around her, and a gleaming ice arrow formed between her fingers just as she released the string. It flew into the bushes with a thump, and a small, pale body tumbled out of the ferns into the river.

“Nice shot, Ari,” Puck crowed as the Wolf drew close to shore. The hail of arrows thinned, and the marauders shrieked as the Wolf dragged his dripping black form out of the water and shook vigorously. Yelping, they fled, scattering into the bushes, and the Wolf lunged after them with a roar. “Go get ’em, Wolfman!” Puck cheered, as the attackers vanished into the trees. “Looks like he scared them off, whatever they were.”

I saw movement on the banks ahead and narrowed my eyes. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

Something small and pale like the other forms scrambled onto a rock jutting out over the water. Seen clearly, it looked like a squat, bipedal newt with slimy white skin and a froglike mouth full of teeth. Its beady eyes were filmy and blue, unlike the bright crimson of the others, and it wore a strange headdress on its naked skull.

Raising a staff in both claws, it started chanting.

“That can’t be good,” Puck muttered.

“Ari,” I called, ducking as another hail of darts flew at us from the bush. The natives were definitely protecting their shaman. “Take him down now!”

Ari pulled back and released an arrow, a perfect shot that would’ve gone right through the shaman’s chest had another creature not leaped in front of him, taking the lethal blow itself. I flung a hail of shards at him, but several newt creatures sprang up and huddled around him, shrieking as the darts tore into them, but not moving. The chanting continued as the raft drifted by, taking us out of reach.

Around us, the water started to boil.

I drew my sword as a monstrous coil broke the surface of the river, black and shiny and thicker than my waist. Puck yelped, and Ariella cringed back. A huge head reared out of the water with a screech and an explosion of nightmare debris. Not a snake or a dragon; this monster had a round, lipless mouth lined with sharp teeth, built for sucking instead of biting. A giant lamprey, and where there was one, there were usually more.

“Puck!” I yelled, as the raft spun wildly and two more giant eels rose out of the water. “If we end up in the water, we’re dead! Don’t let them crush the boat!”

The first lamprey lunged at me, snaking in for an attack. I stood my ground and slashed upward with my blade, cutting through its fleshy maw. The lamprey screamed and reared back, mouth split in two, thrashing wildly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ariella shoot an arrow right into the mouth of another eel, which convulsed fiercely and sank back into the depths. The third lunged for Puck, mouth gaping, but at the last moment Puck leaped aside, and the lamprey struck the boat instead, razor teeth sinking into the wood. It started to pull back, but not before Puck’s dagger flashed down, stabbing the top of its head.

Shrieking, the eel coiled its entire body around the raft, squeezing hard. The planks creaked and started to snap in places as the mortally wounded lamprey clung to it with the strength of death. I spun and sliced through a coil, cutting it in two, but with a final snap, the raft splintered, flying outward in an explosion of wood and dumping me into the river.

The current caught me instantly, dragging me down. Still clutching my sword, I fought to the surface, calling out for Ariella and Puck. I could see the lamprey as it sank below the surface, coiled around the remains of the raft, but my companions were nowhere to be seen.

Something struck me in the back of the head. My vision went dark for a moment, and I fought to keep my head above water, knowing that if I lost consciousness now, I would die. Briefly, I hoped Puck, Ariella and Grimalkin were all right; that they would survive, even if I did not.

Then the current pulled me under again, and the River of Dreams took me away.