Water, Fire, Wind, Earth

Posted with permission from Metara.

 

 

Gonna write down my law in blood upon the street
To the cadence of a goose-step heavy metal beat
Wanna purify my race gonna turn up the heat
Just wanna make 'em die and make the job complete

-Alice Cooper

 

 

~*~* THE DREAM REALM ~*~*

The world we know is not the only reality. There are worlds within worlds and lives within lives: the universe is a Russian doll that opens out into infinite complexity. A leaf is a galaxy: a supernova is a mote of dust.

In a world within a world the crescent moon shines down on a scene of death.

The dream realm is silent. Not a breath disturbs the air. The sylphs no longer play here: only ghosts will dance in the wind henceforth. For this is a battlefield. Already the red and drifting dust begins to cover the scene as if it would hide the atrocity from prying eyes, but the people of dreams have long memories. This place will never be forgotten.

At the edge of the canyon something moves. It is a white beast the size of a deer, with cloven hooves and a single spiral horn.

Phalanx the unicorn walks to the edge of the cliff and stands there gazing down upon the devastation. His white pelt gleams pale and ghostly beneath the moonglow. His heart is already dead. It would be such a little thing, he thinks, to take one step further. What reason has he to remain when so many have already gone? For that is what Nightmaren believe. There is no afterlife in this realm: only a return to the fabric of dreams, the ether that permeates the realm. Phalanx desires nothing more than that peaceful oblivion. In his heart he names himself: coward, fugitive, kin-betrayer. He has failed his folk, his lady and his land.

With a heavy step he turns and walks away. He does not yet have the courage born of despair. He cannot throw himself from this peak.

I will find a place, thinks Phalanx, where no other Nightmaren will go. And I will remain there alone. I do not deserve to be among the folk of this realm.

His hooves are splintered and they bleed as he picks his way down through craggy rocks and spears of stone. He has been walking for a long time now without rest. No Nightmaren has spoken to him, none will find forgiveness in their hearts for him, for he betrayed his own folk and the memory of the Lady Rowan, and gave up the dreamers to the lord of Nightmares.

It is my fault, thinks Phalanx. All that has happened may be laid at my feet. The Wizeman's prisoners will curse my name.

From the caves of the hillside eyes watch him as he limps away. He is thirsty and tired. But none go out to him. The Nightmaren of the desert are afraid now and do not venture out of their safe havens. There are too many of the Wizeman's servants in this place.

Back in the canyon something glitters beneath the moon. There is a place where the ground is scorched as if a fire burned across it, smooth as if a wave pressed over it. Here, half buried by the drifting dust, something gleams golden, as if a flame has become solid and burns yet beneath the ground.

 

 

~*~* TWIN SEEDS ~*~*

Flying had become their favourite thing. They practiced endlessly, everywhere they could: getting to know each other until each could guess what the other would do before he did it.

It had not been easy, particularly for Reala. The merge technique was all about teamwork and Reala was not a team player. He had hated it at first - the presence of a dreamer's soul within his body felt like an invasion of his own sense of self. He did not trust easily and trust was the most vital part of what they had to do.

But over time he had grown used to the idea and to the sensation of another consciousness behind his eyes. Every minute he spent with Ross taught him that he and the dreamer were not so different after all. And they had made the discovery that when they moved together, synchronising their movements and sharing all that they knew, they were faster and stronger than ever before. This was NiGHTS's secret - this was how the sprite had defeated not only Reala but the Wizeman himself.

This was a part of Nightopia where few ever went: it was too hot for any but those of the fire element, and even they were not always comfortable in such a fierce and barren place. Here they were close to the core of fire that lay at the heart of the nightmare. The ground was black and blasted stone twisted into unnatural shapes. The sky flickered with crimson light against the backdrop of impenetrable clouds. Yellow fog hissed from mountainous vents and geysers: every so often as they flew they came across a crater or a bubbling river of molten stone. Reala, currently in control, glided gently through the hot dry air, dodging an occasional blast from a geyser. He loved the warmth of this place.

A group of impish mephits, Nightmaren of the fire element, were playing on the banked shore of one of the lava streams. As they came into view Reala sensed excitement from Ross.

Let's have some fun, the dreamer said.

He understood precisely what Ross meant by that. It was amazing how well synchronised their minds already were. They already possessed what was needed. Learning to fly as one entity was a question of mere mechanics.

The mephits had not seen him yet. Their attention was elsewhere: they were engrossed in their game as they bounded over the black rocks with ease if not with grace. Here in the home of their element they thought themselves safe. Reala dipped low between stone pillars and crept up on them, flying only a few feet above the ground.

When he was within twenty feet of them he threw himself into a drill-dash and charged. The mephits didn't see him until he was almost upon them: then with screams of fear they scattered. Smoothly Reala drew back to let Ross take over, so that he became for a few minutes a spectator in his own body. They had practiced this midair change many times now. The mephits were fast runners but they could not fly, and Ross had had enough practice now to be able to mingle quickness and strength. He rammed two of them into rocks and knocked a third into a molten pool: it surfaced a moment later with a splash and scream of rage. The remaining mephits grouped together swiftly to repel a further attack but he had already darted away; only the echo of laughter remained to taunt them.

Ross did not slow down until he had put a good distance between themselves and the enraged mephits. At last a more mountainous area appeared ahead; the dreamer chose a high peak and landed lightly and in a blurred moment they parted and stood facing each other, breathless and grinning.

"That was FUN," Ross said, and then smirked. "Man, we're gettin' too good at this."

Reala grinned back at him. "Then shall we try something new?"

"Hey, it's all cool with me. So what you got in mind?"

Something a little more edgy, he thought. It is all very well tormenting mephits but they are not much of a challenge for one such as I. It will be more interesting to fight something that can fight back.

He held out his hand: Ross slapped his own palm to Reala's and they came together once more. It was so easy now. Together they rose into the hot air and arrowed back across the lava plains. He guided them around in a wide circle, heading towards a huge crater in the blasted landscape. The edges of the lava lake were raised into a fringe of spiky mountains: they slipped between two peaks and glided gently down towards the crimson shore. The air wobbled in their sight.

Reala found what he was looking for at the northern end of the lava lake.

Whoa, said Ross in a tone of awe. Is that a dragon?

A wyrm, Reala corrected him. Dragons are of wind, not fire. But wyrms are their kin.

The wyrm was immense, one of the largest of its kind: its length was greater even than that of Gillwing although it was not as wide around the body. It lay coiled and sprawled along the curve of the shoreline, wreathed in drifting smoke, its coils twisting in and out of the hissing lava. The sinuous body was slick with pure white scales that now gleamed red in the light of the lake. Brilliant crimson spines ran the length of its back. Around its neck were three rings of polished black stone. Its massive Chinese-dragon head, fringed with a blood red mane, rested on a boulder: its eyes were closed as it dozed in the welcome heat of the nightmare. Reala knew the wyrm by both name and reputation - it was Scorch, an evil Nightmaren almost as old as Gillwing himself. If Scorch had not been so lazy he might have taken Gillwing's place by the side of the Wizeman.

He landed lightly on the ground beside the wyrm's glorious tasseled tail. It slept on unaware of his presence - or careless of it, one or the other.

Now there was uneasiness from Ross. He said: are you sure about this, man?

Reala grinned. What is the matter? he asked. Do you want to chase mephits forever? And he bent to the tassel and took a double handful of coarse red hair. The wyrm grumbled in its sleep and shifted its head a little on the stones. Reala waited until he was entirely sure that Scorch had settled once more - then he gathered his strength and gave the tail a hard yank. The hair tore loose in his grip.

A wyrm's tail was a tender thing. Scorch jerked awake and let out a deafening roar as he whipped round to snap at his tormentor. But Reala had already leaped back and was arrowing away across the lava fields. The wyrm roared again at the damage to his most beloved appendage, threw himself off the ground and gave chase. Scorch might be lazy most of the time but when his ire was roused he was a foe to be reckoned with. Reala glanced back and rolled quickly out of the way as the wyrm spat out a giant gout of fire.

Rousing Scorch had been the easy part. Now they had to do something much more difficult and dangerous: Reala knew he would need Ross's help. He conveyed to the dreamer as quickly as he could what it was they were to do, and felt Ross's astonishment and dawning pleasure.

This is crazy! exclaimed the dreamer.

Now we fly together, Reala told him: we must be swift.

Scorch was gaining on them. Another blast of flame licked out beneath them as they rose towards the sulphurous clouds. The wyrm followed without hesitation. Reala glanced back and saw gaping jaws only a few yards behind him. Now! he thought, and they doubled back so sharply that he felt the wrench in his spine. Scorch turned too, snapping - for one moment Reala's leg was actually in the monster's mouth. But the wyrm was not quite fast enough and his jaws closed on air. In that split second Reala slid past Scorch's face, arms outstretched, and snatched hold of the rough red mane. In a feat of acrobatics of which NiGHTS would have been proud, he swung himself over and straddled the vast muscled neck. He had aimed it perfectly - he had landed at the one point where Scorch's teeth could not reach them. They were riding a wyrm!

Scorch was furious. He threw himself into all kinds of wild contortions, whipping through the air, then went howling towards the ground. Reala hung on - there was nothing else he could do now. At the last minute the wyrm twisted and shot back up again. They blasted through thick yellow cloud that made him cough and choke - and then were out again in open air, streaking over the hot black landscape. The speed drew tears from his eyes. He squinted ahead blinking and grinning hugely: he had always wanted to do this, but before now he had never dared.

Ross let out a whoop of glee as he took control. "This ROCKS!" And then he did something that Reala would never have thought of alone - he leaned forward and shifted his grip on Scorch's mane so that his two hands gripped separate bundles of hair on the left and right side. With his left hand he yanked hard, dragging Scorch's head to one side. And the massive wyrm turned obediently under him.

They rode the wyrm for hours, forcing him on at top speed by hauling on his mane whenever he began to flag: in any case there was no way to get off while he was this angry. At last the wyrm collapsed on the ground and lay there flat and sprawled against the hot rough stones. Ross gave his mane one or two hard tugs, but this produced nothing but a whine.

Time to go, Reala suggested. Ross agreed with him: it was best to leave before the wyrm regained any of his strength. They tensed and then let go of the mane. At once Scorch reared his head back to snap at them, but they were already flying swiftly to the north. The wyrm spat a weak and irritated tongue of fire which did not reach them, and then lay down where he was, closing his eyes and groaning in abject exhaustion.

That was awesome, Ross said as they flew. Reala said nothing in response, but grinned: he was out of breath and his heart was still pounding. That was probably not something to try again in a hurry - but still he would never forget the feeling when the massive wyrm bent to their will. They were good at this. They were really good.

Perhaps it would soon be time to head for Nightopia. To find NiGHTS.

He thought back to the audience earlier that day: he had taken Ross to the court of the Wizeman to present the dreamer to his lord. The Wizeman had been very pleased, not only with Reala but with Ross who stood on the floor of the chamber, surrounded by a ring of black fire, and looked up at the vast efreet with no outward sign of fear. Only Reala, who knew him well by now, could see the stiffness in the dreamer's back and neck.

"So you're the leader, huh?" asked Ross. He propped his hands on his hips as one of the stone hands came swooping down to transfix him in its gaze. "Reala's told me all about you."

"Good," said the Wizeman, and the sound of his voice did visibly unnerve the dreamer. Ross shifted his feet and swallowed once. Even so Reala was impressed: few Nightmaren could remain so calm before the lord of nightmares. The hand moved slowly around Ross to examine him from all angles. "And you have flown with him?"

"Yeah." Ross made a tight nervous grin.

"Does he please you?"

"What?"

"Has my servant treated you well?" said the Wizeman. "Do you ... like him?"

Ross looked uncomfortable at the question. "Uh, yeah," he said. "It's cool. We're cool."

Another hand swooped down out of the darkness and hovered before Reala. "This was well done," said the Wizeman. "You have fulfilled my expectations." In answer Reala merely bowed though his heart exulted at such praise.

The Wizeman's attention returned to Ross. He spoke again: magma seething far beneath the surface of the world. "What else has Reala told you? Do you know of one called NiGHTS?"

"Yeah," said Ross. "He's the one who broke up your outfit last time." There was a dark look in the boy's eyes. Here was another place where Ross and Reala thought alike: to betray your leader was an unforgivable sin. Ross lifted his head and looked the efreet in the eye - one of them anyway. "That's what you brought me here for, right? You want me and Reala to sort this guy out." And he grinned. "No problem. We can handle it."

Reala sensed the Wizeman's surprise at this.

"Reala," said the mighty efreet. "What have you told him?"

"The truth, lord," he answered.

"All of it?"

"Not all of it, lord." Reala glanced toward Ross who was looking up at him anxiously.

"Speak on," said the Wizeman.

"I ... did not mention the fate of the dreamer realm, lord. Was that wrong?"

The Wizeman was silent for a minute. "No," he said at last. "It was not wrong. Everything must happen in its rightful place. But he must be told. We cannot keep it from him much longer." And he added: "Now we shall discover how well you have obeyed my command."

"Yes, lord," Reala said, looking down.

"Ross," said the efreet, and the hand swept back to hover before the dreamer. "It is time you learned what our war has to do with you. The truth is that the war is being fought over the dreamer's world. It is my will that we, the Nightmaren, should possess your world as well as our own. The dreamers shall become my subjects as have the Nightmaren before them. I will be ruler of all."

For a long time Ross said nothing. But at last he looked up, and he was grinning. "Cool by me. My world's got it coming."

 

 

~*~* THE DOLL'S HOUSE ~*~*

There was a part of the nightmare that was different to any other. Of all the dream realm it corresponded most clearly to something that might exist in the dreamer's world - indeed it had been crafted with the dreamers in mind. It was dark. Broken toys lay scattered about the tiled floor that was ankle deep in dust. Spidery silk drapes covered the tall windows and let in only a poor and ghostly light. Everything was too big - or was it that the observer in this place became too small?

A giant grinning jack-in-the-box bounced gently on its spring. There was a wrongness about this toy: aside from the holes and general decrepitude it did not look like a friendly thing. The shadow it left upon the floor wriggled like a snake.

Sometimes the laughter of a child seemed to echo in the dank and musty space.

In the center of the vast chamber, glittering in a single shaft of light, was a giant toybox painted in bright primary shades that were somehow indefinably wrong. There was something greenish and decayed about the colours, as if the box had been buried and dug up. An old fashioned china doll lay draped over the edge of the box. Its face was polished bone in the corpse-light: its eyes were dark holes. Spiders had spun their webs over its lacy petticoats so that it seemed almost to grow out of the box.

This was Jackle's dream: the reason that children feared the dark. In the darkness things were different. The dusty lights-out silence of this place seemed to swallow sound - you knew in your heart that a scream would not be heard. Or worse, it would be heard, but not heeded.

Something rustled in the rafters and a shadow flitted batlike across the floor. Jackle landed on the head of the jack-in-the-box and crouched there as the spring bobbed beneath him. His eyes were fixed on something that lay on the dusty floor in another shaft of light. In a moment he permitted himself a smile. She was there just as he had left her - as if he should have doubted it. They laughed at him but in their hearts they feared him: feared the power of his nightmare, the darkest and most primal of all dreams. Nobody would enter his dream without an invitation, not even Reala.

Reala! His fists clenched. Reala was the reason he had been away so long. He knew the truth of what had happened with Reala's dreamer - how the dreamer had actually saved the life of the Nightmaren general. Jackle had really hoped that his wraiths would manage to do away with Reala this time. It had been an excellent plan, and it should have worked. But the djinn seemed to have the dream's own luck.

And now Reala had managed to merge with his dreamer. Not only that but the Wizeman had congratulated him personally! Yes - Jackle had been loitering outside the door during Reala's audience with the lord of nightmares. He'd heard it all. The Wizeman had never spoken to HIM with such warmth and affection.

Jackle would have done anything - he would have killed - for a single word of approval from his lord. Why was Reala always the favourite? Why did that painted clown get all the attention? It wasn't fair.

I must find out how he did it, Jackle thought bitterly. I have to have this power!

News travelled fast in the nightmare. He already knew what Reala and his dreamer had done today, and he was so jealous he could barely breathe. They had tamed a wyrm! Ridden it like a beast of burden! Not even the Wizeman would have dared-!

He glanced down again at what lay on the floor of his nightmare. The dark haired girl wore cut off denim shorts and a v-necked sleeveless shirt. Her long gleaming hair coiled free in artful tangles. She slept on, icy cold, awaiting the moment when Jackle might awaken her.

This girl, he thought. This girl is the key. With the power that sleeps in her I will finish Reala once and for all. And then I alone will be the Wizeman's servant. He will appreciate me then.

It was time to make a start. Jackle gazed at the unconscious girl, thinking in a detached fashion that she was rather pretty for a dreamer. Then he reached down into himself and called the ideya of her dream. It rose obediently and began to circle him, and he caught it in his hands and stared into the warm green glow.

 

 

~*~* NORTHERN WOODS ~*~*

The stream made a silver sound as it ran between high banks of flowering moss. It was getting late and a blue twilight lay soft over everything, so that shadows were dark and velvety and the air hummed with silence.

They had been travelling for hours: first flying down the slopes of Frozen Bell, and then walking along the bank of the Mystic Forest river. The trees grew too thickly here to fly. NiGHTS hated that, but there were too many rogue Nightmaren moving around and he did not want to risk quitting the cover of the trees. He was tired: he would have liked to have rested but something drove him onwards into the heart of the forest. In any case there was nothing to go back to. The Wind Guardian had torn down his own tower.

That made him think. He and Amy were running away. Even the mighty dragon was a fugitive now: weakened and wounded, alone without his fellow Guardians, he could not fight the Wizeman. NiGHTS knew that the destruction of the Tor was an admission of defeat.

What would happen to the dream realm now? Who would oppose the Wizeman? If even Donovan was going into hiding, what chance did one lone sprite have? What use was NiGHTS? There were no Red dreamers now, and he could not hope for their coming: the dreamer's path was closed. And his friends were gone - taken to the nightmare to become prisoners of the Wizeman. The forest was silent and abandoned. There was not a single sylph on the wind, nor a single fairy in the long grass.

"NiGHTS?" said Amy. She was walking beside him: they had separated when they entered the forest. Now she reached out and touched his arm. "You look sad."

I am sad, he thought. He looked away.

After a moment she put her arm around him. "At least we've got each other, right?"

That was true, and he was glad of it. He didn't think he could cope with being alone right now. He didn't in all honesty like being on his own - he was much happier when there were sylphs or nixies around to play with. That was part of what was so upsetting: Nightopia had never felt so empty. He had not seen a single friendly Nightmaren since they had come down off the hills. For a while he had even toyed with the idea of leaving - but where would he go? Where could he go? The dreamer's world was not for him: he would die there in that unfamiliar air.

The Wizeman must be stopped, he thought, and suddenly that thought gave him a little comfort. That was what he needed to do. It seemed impossible right now - but he had to do it, so somehow or other he must find a way. That meant going to the nightmare as he had done before, and facing the Wizeman in battle - as he had also done before. And Amy had promised to help him do this. No, it was not time to despair.

Walking on they pushed through a stand of bushes and came out by a swampy pool, where a dip in the terrain had formed a kind of natural dam in the river. "Just a minute," Amy said, and broke away and slithered down the bank. She knelt there on the wet bare soil and scooped up water in her cupped hands. After a moment he glided down and joined her: he was tired too and the water called to him. He waded out past her and dived headlong.

NiGHTS loved flying, but he liked swimming almost as much. The pool was murky and surprisingly deep: he swam down through a maze of twisted roots until his groping hands touched a thick soft sludge. He would have preferred clearer water - there was too much of the earth element in this place - but even so the touch of liquid on his body was comforting to him. He flicked his tail and turned, heading upwards to a place where the surface darted and trembled, agitated by something that splashed.

Amy saw something rising and jumped back with a squeal as his head broke the surface. He blinked water out of his eyes and smiled at her.

She breathed out slowly. "You scared the life out of me!"

In answer he rolled over onto his back and beat up a rush of water with his tail. She squealed again and scrambled back up the bank.

"What was that for? I'm all wet now!"

"What's wrong with that?" he asked. "It's water. Water's nice."

"It's cold and muddy too." Amy brushed at the front of her shirt and made a sour face. "Thanks a lot."

"Come and swim," he said, and rolled over again, and dived.

She wouldn't do it, he thought as he swam down again. He felt a little regretful for that. Amy moved through the dream realm like a foreigner, wilfully blind and deaf as she blundered about: she had gained some understanding of the wind recently but she still didn't seem to grasp exactly what it was all about. She was frightened to let go of the ground. Claris and Elliot had been the same. But at last when he had no longer been there to help them, they had learned to fly - they had come to the Wizeman's fortress to rescue him. He hoped Amy would be able to do the same. He hoped she wouldn't need to.

The muddy currents of the water spoke to him as did the wind. He beat along the bottom of the pool, blinded by mud. He was getting tired of swimming now - this water was too dank and stagnant for his tastes. He would go back to Amy, and they would go on, deeper into the forest until they found a safe place to wait out the night.

"NiGHTS?"

The voice was very close. He whipped round as a shape formed out of the gloomy murk. A greenish eel-like body twisted up from the mud and two round yellow eyes blinked at him. The creature's head was flat and mouthy like a catfish, fringed with brilliant blue whiskers that ruffled gently in the currents. Water and fire, he thought: a selkie. It made sense - only one of such confused elements could be happy in such a confused and murky environment.

The selkie blinked at him. "It is you, isn't it? They said you had been captured."

He shrugged, and looked her up and down - he recognised her now. Her name was Cedilla: he had met her once or twice as a friend of Finestill's. As selkies went she wasn't too bad.

"What's happening up there?" Cedilla asked. "Do you know?" He shook his head. "I've been hearing all sorts of strange rumours," she said after a moment. "The Wizeman's servants are all over Nightopia. They're looking for you, you know."

He nodded and swam on through the subterranean maze of roots. The selkie kept pace beside him for a little while and then slipped away as soundlessly as she had come. Her voice floated back to him through the gloom: "Puffy isn't far away. You should stick to water, NiGHTS."

Puffy! He'd left Amy on her own! Swiftly he turned and swam up towards the light. He had come further than he had thought - he surfaced on the other side of the pool. Amy was sitting on a giant tree root that twisted out over the water. She looked bored. NiGHTS swam over and hauled himself up beside her, not bothering to change his shape this time.

"Did you have fun?" she asked, annoyed. He ignored her for the moment - he was listening intently to the wind. For a moment he hoped that the selkie had been exaggerating or was simply wrong, but then he sensed it: Nightmaren, wind Nightmaren, close to them.

"We have to swim," he said.

"Swim? Why? Haven't you had enough?" She folded her arms. "I'm not swimming, so there. It's muddy and it's cold."

"No, you don't understand..." NiGHTS glanced over his shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure how many other Nightmaren there were - the trees got in the way of his sense. They were closing in, though, he was sure of that. "Please," he said, "we have to hurry. It's Puffy."

"It's what?"

"She's coming! Please!"

It was the urgency in his eyes that persuaded her. Amy stared at him for a second and then slithered off the root and landed in waist deep water. She made no sound but shivered at the cold of it. NiGHTS joined her and took her hand: he towed her out into the middle of the pool. He didn't want to merge with her here - that would bring every Nightmaren for miles down on them. As it was, with luck he and Amy would be able to follow the river out of trouble. Only one of the Wizeman's henchmen had a water bond. It was the safest element to trust.

In the undergrowth branches snapped and leaves rustled. Something large was moving through the forest. NiGHTS looked back nervously. Two mephits were first to appear: cackling they tore down the bushes in their way. The leader let out a whoop as he spotted the two heads bobbing in the water. And now here came Puffy herself, smashing down small trees as she forced her way through. The evil sylph could move with speed and grace through air, but in the dense forest she was a clumsy bulk.

No wraiths yet, NiGHTS thought with relief. Mephits and sylphs would not follow him into water. His fingers tightened on Amy's and he dived dragging her down with her, hearing Puffy's shout of rage in the moment before the water swallowed them both. Now what? He wriggled past tree roots with difficulty - Amy was dragging on his arm and slowing him down. He had to find the way out of this pool and back into the main river, but the water was so thick with mud that he could barely see.

Cedilla twisted out of the roots and looked him in the face: her yellow eyes gleamed like headlamps. "This way," she said. He followed her down into a tangled maze of muck and overgrown weeds.

 

 

Above, Puffy hovered over the stagnant pool and glared down. The murky depths were opaque and told her nothing; and this part of the forest was filled with waterways - the sprite could be anywhere by now. Was there any point spreading out along the banks? NiGHTS could stay underwater indefinitely.

She gestured to one of the mephits. "You! Find Gulpo. Quick!" The mephit fled.

 

 

The way was blocked. Roots and submerged branches had twisted together to form a natural dam. This was what had caused the pool to form. NiGHTS pressed his hands against it and felt it creak. Beyond was clear running water - he could feel its presence like sunlight on the skin.

The passage was deep and dark and full of silt. Above them the tree roots had woven together so that it was a little like being underground. No... he would not think about that, not yet. In the blind darkness he felt around for an opening and could not find one. Against his will the panic began to rise... and Amy touched his arm. She said nothing but her mere presence comforted him a little: at least he was not alone in the darkness.

Cedilla's eyes glowed suddenly misty through the drifting haze. The selkie nodded her head downward and to the left, and Amy took his hand and pulled him that way. They kicked down together through water so thick that it was almost mud. His outstretched fingers sank deep into silt: the bottom of the tunnel. Now the selkie slipped forward and abruptly vanished. NiGHTS reached out after her and his fingertips encountered a space where there should not have been one. There was a gap in the dam where a large root curved upwards. He explored it with his free hand and then tugged on Amy's arm, guiding her down to the same place. She found it, felt around, and in the thick darkness he felt her nod. He pushed forward and got his head out into clear blue water - with some effort he managed to wriggle free, then turned and reached back into the dank hole. Amy's fingers gripped his convulsively and, bracing himself against the dam, he pulled her out into the open river. She popped free in a cloud of mud and root fibres and wanted to kick for the surface, but he held her back and shook his head at her. Puffy was still up there.

"NiGHTS?" Cedilla coiled through the water and looked at both of them curiously. "You should go now," she said after a moment. "Head for the waterfall. But hurry!"

He smiled his thanks. The selkie backed away and, snake-like, wriggled out of sight through the hole in the dam. Her finned tail beat up another cloud from the muddy bottom of the river. When it settled there was no sign of her - just the dark hole in the tangle of roots.

NiGHTS looked back at Amy: she wore a bewildered, startled expression. She mouthed something at him and bubbles popped upwards.

"What is it?" he said.

But Amy just made more bubbles. There wasn't time for this. He glanced at her one more time and then tugged gently on her hand. She swam with him, slow and clumsy, fumbling through the water. He tried not to feel impatient: she was doing her best. But then a shadow crossed the water surface and he knew he could not wait for her. He let go of her hand. Amy stared at him as he held out both of his hands to her - then understanding dawned in her eyes and she held out her own. They merged.

He had hoped to avoid this. In the moment after they came together he felt the river ringing like a silver bell - no Nightmaren bound to water would have missed that.

NiGHTS? Amy said. What's happening to me?

He didn't understand the question. And in any case he had bigger worries. "Stay back," he said aloud. "I'll handle this." He felt her draw back to become a small presence in one corner of his mind - then he beat his tail and sped off along the course of the river, swimming as fast as he could. How far away was the waterfall? Underwater he wasn't sure - he had not swum often in the river and these sharp twists and bends were unfamiliar. He butted head-first through a tangle of waterweed and came out draped with green fronds.

There was no sign of any pursuit and after a while he began to relax. He swam on at a less frantic pace, taking the time now to listen to the water. The world is still, it told him: there is nothing here to fear. At last he dared to stop and lift his head above the surface. Nothing.

They had come a long way: the river was wider here and moved faster. The trees too were different - they were flat-leafed lowland trees, standing well apart from each other. NiGHTS swam to the bank and hauled himself out. The world blurred as he and Amy separated, and then they were sitting side by side on the bank, dripping with water.

"Are they gone?" Amy asked breathless. "Are we safe now?"

He shook his head. "They'll follow. We should go." When he held out his hand she did not take it: she just looked at him.

"What's happening to me?" she said again.

He blinked. "I don't understand."

"I was underwater with you for five, maybe ten minutes. And earlier - when we were in that lake with the whale. What's happened to me? How come I didn't drown?"

"Drown?" he said, laughing. "Water Nightmaren don't drown."

"In case you'd forgotten, I'm not a Nightmaren! I'm human!" She seemed genuinely angry; he was baffled.

"Did you WANT to drown?" he asked.

"No, of course not, but I just..." Amy looked close to tears. "Am I going to turn into a Nightmaren?"

"I don't think so," he said truthfully.

"Are you sure?"

He hated that sort of question. "Claris and Elliot didn't," he said.

"Sorry," Amy said and sniffed hard. "It's just, this isn't fun any more." She made a weak smile then. "I guess we should go on."

NiGHTS nodded. He got to his feet and she stood with him, and together they began to walk along the mossy bank. He kept his awareness open, listening for any sign of other Nightmaren on the wind. Almost at once he had them - they were some miles back but heading along the same stream. And there were others a little way ahead. He halted and looked around wondering what to do.

"Let's cross the river," Amy said. "I think it's clear on the other side."

He glanced at her and then concentrated. She was right - most of the activity was on this side of the river. NiGHTS looked back the way they had come and then took Amy's hand again and waded back into the river with her. For ten or twelve yards they swam and then came up on the opposite bank to fight their way through thick bushes.

Some distance away there was another larger river - one of the main tributaries. NiGHTS traced it in his mind and realised that it would lead them straighter than the stream along which they had been travelling. The only trouble was getting to it through the overgrown terrain. Vines and branches grew so thick about them that there was no question of flying. He began to struggle through the undergrowth on foot. After a minute Amy pushed in front of him. "I'm stronger," she said, "let me." And she started breaking a path. He followed thankfully.

Abruptly he sensed Puffy's signature in the wind - and at the same time she became aware of him. She was coming straight for them, mowing down anything in her way. NiGHTS heard the cracking of branches to the north of their position. "Hurry!" he said, pushing Amy forward. "She's coming!" They stumbled out of the trees together and found themselves on a grassy slope that led down towards the big river. The sun, red and flaming, was low in the sky before them: their shadows stretched out long and black. Puffy burst out of the dark trees and came bounding down after them, singing in victory. Why was she so confident? NiGHTS wondered. She couldn't catch them before they reached the water's edge. With Amy he skidded down the bank into the shallow water - and stopped dead: a vast blue-green hump rose out of the middle of the river. Gulpo opened his man-trap jaws and grinned as waves of water poured off his scaly back.

Puffy was taking her time now as she made her way down to them. "Time to surrender, little sprite," she sang.

He gripped Amy's hand and stared around, trying desperately to think of something else to try. He could not fly and he could not swim. This was it...

The fairies rose out of the grass like a swarm of bees. There were hundreds of them, all shapes and sizes, a prismatic cloud of sparkling bodies. Puffy squealed and backed off trying to shield her eyes from the diving bodies. In the river Gulpo was thrashing about, beating up fountains of foam.

"NiGHTS!" The voice was familiar. A golden fairy fluttered out of the storm and blinked ruby eyes at them both. "Quickly!" Chime said. "Follow me!" And she turned and shot off to the south. NiGHTS and Amy glanced at each other - an unspoken communication and they ran after the fleeing fairy. Behind them there were shouts and confused cries as the Wizeman's servants tried to fight enemies too fast and small to be caught.

Chime buzzed back to them for a moment. "Hurry!" she said, and was gone again in a burst of glitter. They ran hand in hand through a stand of trees into another clearing where a stone monument stood - passed it by and ran on into more trees and across a rickety wooden bridge. Chime's glowing tail bobbed like a lantern in the darkening forest.

Suddenly they came out onto the bank of another much larger stream. The foaming water surged around rocks that rose like jagged teeth. NiGHTS glanced ahead and saw a peculiar kind of cut-off in the river - it was the waterfall. He tugged at Amy's hand and hurried with her along the riverbank until they stood together on the edge of a rocky cliff, watching the water tumble down a hundred feet or more into a deep rounded bowl. They had made it. But now what?

"Dive, NiGHTS!" Chime said urgently as she circled them. "Quick - she's coming!"

Dive into the waterfall? Even for him that was dangerous: there would be hidden rocks in those clouds of foam. He glanced quickly at Amy and her fingers tightened on his. Her face was white.

"Hurry!" begged Chime.

"On the count of three?" suggested Amy. Her voice shook a little. He nodded, and she began to count. "One... two..."

"NiGHTS!" came Puffy's faint and furious voice.

"Three!" shouted Amy, and they let go of each other's hands and jumped. There was a moment of knotted fear as they fell towards the bubbling cauldron of white foam - everything stopped - and then NiGHTS hit the water with a crash that knocked him stupid. The side of his head slammed against something that knocked him sideways and he heard a ringing like a cathedral bell. He struggled to right himself, then something grabbed him around the middle and he was being dragged down into a dark place...

 

 

~*~* ??? ~*~*

"NiGHTS? NiGHTS, are you okay?"

It was Amy's voice. Someone was shaking him gently. He cracked his eyes open a little, saw nothing immediately dangerous, and opened them all the way. Then he sat up.

He was on the shore of a small lake. The sound of crashing water filled his head: in front of him the waterfall was thundering down. Sunlight shining through it filled the air with rainbow light. I am behind the waterfall, NiGHTS realised as he looked around: the cavern was huge, glittering with quartz crystals and bristling like a strange forest with stalactites and growths of stone. Everywhere water dripped or poured or collected in clear pools. He had never known this place was here.

"Are you okay?" Amy asked again. She looked worried. "I think you hit your head on something."

"I shouldn't worry about that," said a different voice. NiGHTS glanced behind him and saw the familiar horned and fish-scaled face of a kirin, fringed with rough dark hair. Pilaster grinned. "NiGHTS here has a very hard head," he said. "Isn't that right?"

NiGHTS smiled weakly.

"Don't look so surprised," Pilaster said. "Not everyone got caught napping in the Mystic Forest cave, you know. Some of us managed to follow the underground river. It led us here."

Us? NiGHTS thought and looked around, seeing what he had not at first. Fairies zipped and darted between the looming rock formations; a couple of nixies squatted nearby, watching him with large wet eyes. In the waterfall several nymphs were playing, leaping in and out of the foaming cascade. There was even a kobold sitting hunched like a wise sage upon a boulder, although it was not Finestill.

There was something else too. In the center of the lake a pedestal rose up out of the water. A spot of blue-green light gleamed there, casting glittering reflections on the lapping water all around. He blinked and stared harder, his eyes widening.

Pilaster's expression was suddenly sad. "I brought it back from Stick Canyon," he said. "I don't really know why."

NiGHTS said nothing. He couldn't take his eyes off the scale of a siren. That was what was lighting up this massive cavern: the scale of Barachois shining like sunlight through water. Even sitting over here he could feel the power of it spreading in steady waves - hiding the massive cavern from the awareness of evil Nightmaren. The place, and the scale, were sacred to the water element. And slowly he understood. The Guardian of Water had passed away but somehow Barachois's power continued in this relic.

Maybe there were others, one for each of the Guardians. In fact there had to be. If not for Wind, then at least for Earth and Fire.

Behind him there were whispers: Pilaster, Gurry the nixie, others. He felt curious eyes upon his back.

"What's he doing? He's been standing there for ages."

"He gets like that sometimes. I've seen him do it before."

"Do you think he got hit on the head too hard?"

"Some say he's a bit, you know. Simple."

"Don't be horrible," Amy said sharply.

"What's wrong?" That was a fairy: Tilde. "He doesn't understand anyway. He can't talk."

NiGHTS turned round. "Yes I can," he said, and the cavern fell silent. In the shocked hush he looked around sweeping the assembled Nightmaren with his gaze. Not many of them would meet his eyes: Pilaster looked up steadily, as did Chime. He glanced at Amy for a moment and then sighed. "Listen. All of you listen. We need your help ..."

 

 

It was time to make a stand, he said. The Wizeman had to be stopped, and that meant that the Nightmaren of the dream realm had to stand up to him. There was no alternative. If nothing else, they could take comfort in this - they knew what they must do, so all they needed to do now was find a way to do it.

"But we tried that," Pilaster said, pawing the ground. "Phalanx tried it. Have you forgotten already?" There were dubious mumbles of agreement.

NiGHTS sighed. "It's no good going up against him that way. He's too strong, and he has too many powerful servants. Phalanx made a mistake."

"So how can we fight him? How can we tackle something like him?"

"We can't. So that's why we're not going to."

"You're contradicting yourself," said a fairy.

"No, you're just not listening." NiGHTS sighed again and rubbed at his forehead. This was tough, and they weren't helping! Getting Nightmaren to cooperate was like herding cats. How could he draw them the picture he saw in his mind? "Listen," he said again at last. "We have to do these things. We have to free the dreamers and the Wizeman's prisoners, and we have to find the other relics and bring them here. If the Wizeman gets hold of them he will add the powers of a Guardian to his own power, and we can't let that happen. But we can't do all this by marching into the nightmare with an army. We have to work together, we have to talk to each other, and we have to be secret." He glanced up at the cavern, then around at the ring of bright eyes. "This is a good place: we can use it. And there must be others - you all must know of others. Hiding places that the Wizeman's servants don't know about. The Mystic Forest cave only got discovered because Phalanx was tricked." He smiled. "The Wizeman can't get to us if he doesn't know where we are. Don't you see?"

"Guerilla warfare," Amy muttered, looking thoughtful. Unexpectedly many of the Nightmaren turned to her.

"What's that mean?" asked a nixie.

She blushed. "Um ... it's something I remembered, that's all. It's what you call it when people, like, hide in jungles. When there's someone you can't fight head on because there aren't enough of you."

"Do you know how to do it?" asked someone else. Amy laughed uneasily.

"She knows a lot of things," NiGHTS said. He sat down on a handy boulder as all eyes turned his way once more. "She healed the Wind Guardian after the battle. He was badly hurt but she fixed him up with Vendaval's scarf."

"HOW?" Pilaster asked, incredulous. There was a babble of excited voices.

"Oh God," Amy said nervously. "I just tied a few bandages, that's all. I'm not some kind of miracle worker." Her words had no effect: the Nightmaren were staring at her as they might at one who could do magic. To them it was magic that healing could be effected with nothing more than a bit of silk.

NiGHTS smiled to himself. He knew now how it worked, her healing skill: he had flown with her and shared a few of her memories. But it made it no less wondrous what she had done - and, he thought as he looked around at the gathered Nightmaren, it was what they needed, a small miracle or two. It might give them back a little hope to think that they had magic on their side.

"Who knows what's happening outside?" he asked. "Don't tell rumours - just say what you know. Who's still free and able to help us?"

Several things emerged over the next hour. A fairy had heard it from a sylph that the griffins had retreated as a body to the most inaccessible parts of Frozen Bell. Those fierce wind elementals had certainly not given up the fight - no servant of the Wizeman could get near their remote eyries. Someone else believed that the trolls and goblins of Stick Canyon were holding out in the vast labyrinth of caves below the mountains. Mystic Forest was still full of those who had escaped Jackle's trap or had never entered into it - and there were still plenty of sylphs about, although they had mostly been keeping out of sight.

NiGHTS took charge: after some initial complaints the others seemed glad to have someone giving orders. They had lacked purpose for too long and it gave them heart to have a clear goal in sight. He sent off Chime and several other fairies to find the griffins and anyone else who might listen, and spread the word. The others were to do various things - forage for food, find out exactly where the Wizeman's henchmen were concentrated, locate other possible sanctuaries.

"What about you?" Pilaster asked.

"I'm going to Stick Canyon," NiGHTS said. "I'm going to try and find the other relics. Maybe something of Campanile's will be there too."

"Alone?" The kirin looked horrified.

He glanced towards Amy who had sat silent through most of this. She looked up at the same time and smiled bravely. "Not alone," NiGHTS said, smiling back.

After all, he thought, there is one thing we have that the Wizeman doesn't. We have a dreamer on our side. That will give us the edge.

 

 

~*~* STICK CANYON (MIDNIGHT) ~*~*

The sky was clear and a heavy moon hung low over the eastern plains. The wind was dry and hot, scented with the desert, tasting of sand and fire. It was good flying weather - if you were a djinn. Reala would like it. NiGHTS wasn't keen. He was edgy despite Amy's presence as he flew low over rocky terrain.

Stick Canyon ... He had never liked the place much. Earth and fire were the two elements with which he did not get on and the hot arid canyon mingled both of them. It was a place for mephits and goblins and trolls, Nightmaren of the fire element - not for sprites. It was also one of the closest places to the nightmare and bad dreams were forever bleeding out of the dark places to the north and east.

You're uneasy, said Amy. What's wrong?

Mentally he shrugged: It's a dangerous place.

It was also very quiet, and that was another thing he didn't like. Given that Stick Canyon was so close to the nightmare it should have been humming with activity: surely the Wizeman would want to use the canyon as a gathering place for his forces. But the place seemed empty. He hadn't even seen a single sylph since quitting the low lands.

They passed a tower of rickety steel. It creaked with every breath of wind but, unlike the Wind Guardian's tor, it did not seem to be moving with it; rather it was precarious and unstable, shifting dangerously to one side. The canyon was full of such strange constructions, and littered also with their ruins.

He knew they were approaching the battlefield before he saw it. There was an area where the wind would not blow - a blindness in the elements as if they knew the horror that had occurred and refused to accept it. He and Amy swept over the edge of a cliff and saw the ravine laid stark and bare under the pale moonlight. There was no sign of bodies now: the dream had reclaimed them. But something invisible and dark was in the air, like the tension before a thunderstorm, and it tasted of blood. He felt Amy shudder.

And still there was no sound.

They landed at the ravine's western end and separated - then they just stood together, looking around and trying not to breathe too deeply of the tainted air. It felt unclean here: oily.

"What a terrible place," Amy said softly.

He nodded. It would take a long time for the canyon to heal its wounds. What had happened here had hurt the place as much as it had hurt the Nightmaren. Memories had sunk into the stone and would only be absolved through time.

Amy sighed. "Well," she said at last, "where do we look? And what are we looking for?"

"I don't know."

To her credit she did not complain. She looked at him for a moment with eyebrows raised, then shrugged. "Better make a start then." And she walked away scuffing up red dust with the toes of her battered white trainers.

They searched in silence, wandering back and forth across the canyon floor: moving slowly away from each other and then nearer as they became nervous. It was too quiet - too peaceful. There were ghosts in the wind. Climbing over the lip of a small crater NiGHTS saw the smashed ruins of a stone hand lying at the bottom: he shuddered and drew back quickly. There was no life in the broken thing and the eye was dark and dead, but even so it was unnerving to be so close to something of the Wizeman's.

Those fools, he thought sadly: those poor silly fools. He did not blame Phalanx for the disaster. The unicorn had been doing what he thought right, and even the two Guardians of wind and water had followed him. But you could not defeat the Wizeman that way - as well to stand at the base of a mountain and kick it.

"NiGHTS?" Amy called softly. "Over here." She was standing under the shadow of the cliff, nearly invisible in an intense darkness. He glided over to her: she pointed down. The ground here was strange - scorched and yet smoothed over.

"Campanile," he said, understanding, "and Barachois." Then he spotted something nearly buried by the drifting dust: he knelt down and swept at it, baring to view a thing that glistened with gold fire.

The feather gleamed so brightly under the moon that it might have been made of light - but when he lifted it it was heavy and metallic to the touch, faintly warm. He held it in both hands and felt the tremble of power: it was fire, neither good nor evil, the rarefied essence of the element. Campanile's betrayal of the Guardians was nothing to do with this pure thing.

"Is that it?" Amy asked. He nodded.

From the top of the cliff a pebble rattled down, bounding off ledges, spinning through the air: it clattered onto a pile of rubble which shifted beneath it. He jumped and looked up hastily but the distant line of sky looked clear. "We should go," he said. "Now."

"NiGHTS..." Suddenly she grabbed his hand and gripped it painfully. Her eyes were wide as she stared over his shoulder. "NiGHTS, over there!"

A dark thing crouched in a patch of moonlight: a coal, a streaked hunch of muscle. Its eyes flared green as death in the shadow of its face. It sat quite still, grinning, baring teeth like splintered bone. Blood-coloured talons flexed and furrowed the dust.

Earth and fire, NiGHTS thought, and wanted to curse himself for his stupidity. He had trusted the wind to warn him of danger instead of keeping open his own eyes. All around them now the goblins were closing in, a ring of nightmarish shapes. Clawz lifted his head a little and snuffed the air; they both heard his sigh of pleasure.

"Did not think to see you here again, little sprite." His voice was a rolling self-satisfied purr, a hot twist at the back of the throat.

"NiGHTS?" Amy said very quietly. "What is he?"

"One of the Wizeman's servants," he answered without taking his eyes off the goblin.

Clawz's heavy head swung slowly, glancing at both of them in turn. His eyes fixed on the feather in NiGHTS's hands. "Don't think of flying. We will pin you before you make a move." He chuckled throatily. The goblins crept closer: some stalking on two legs, some bellying on all fours. "That's a pretty toy," Clawz said. "Give it me."

"No," NiGHTS said.

"Then I'll take it off your dead body." His claws raked the dirt.

Amy nudged him. "Maybe we should. They might let us go."

"Listen to the pretty lady," Clawz purred.

"No," NiGHTS said again, and thought of something from the dreamer world that would explain it - there must be no surrender, not to this Nightmaren. Even Reala would have been better than Clawz. He looked at Amy with wide eyes. "Have you ever seen a cat play with a baby bird?"

She drew in a sharp breath: she understood.

"Birds?" said Clawz. With oily grace he rose to his feet and padded towards them. A few paces away he ceased and sat down again. The red slashes smouldered in his coal coloured pelt. He was pleased. "Are you a bird, NiGHTS? Give me the shining feather. Then we'll play." His head dropped low: the bunched muscles of his back and shoulders rippled beneath his fur. He would spring, NiGHTS thought, and was already planning his own response.

From above there was a high scream and something flashed across the face of the moon. Clawz looked up snarling and huffing hot breath through his bristling teeth. The griffin dived, and the goblin leaped on his hind legs to meet it: they met in a flurry of feathers and flashing talons and were rolling in the dirt.

"GO!" roared a voice. Other feathered shapes were swooping down now out of the clear sky. Goblins scattered and ran for the shelter of caves.

NiGHTS held out his hand - Amy grabbed it - there was no time to merge. Lifting her bodily he leaped from the earth and flew, charging at the moon. A goblin sprang at their heels but was slammed aside by the sweeping pass of a griffin. Then they were safe out of the earthbound creatures' range, and the griffins were swooping in from all sides. There was a general impression of big bodies: of dusty rustling feathers, yellow eyes, the hot healthy scent of powerful predators.

"Foolhardy, NiGHTS, coming here alone. Even for you, that's foolhardy." The speaker was one of the largest present: though his untidy plumage was gray streaked with white, his body was hale, and the golden eyes now turned towards them pierced the night. His eagle's beak was turned down in a permanent frown but the eyes sparkled with humour. He was the one who had tackled Clawz. "I am Aegis. We got your message and came to find you!"

"Incoming!" called another griffin. The flock spread out with military discipline and formed an inverted v. Looking back NiGHTS saw sylphs and gargoyles rising out of the ravine, a boiling cloud of evil Nightmaren. There were perhaps twelve or fourteen griffins.

"Don't worry," Aegis said coasting alongside. "We're faster than them. Care for a ride?"

"Hurry!" Amy urged, clinging to his arm. They slid sideways on the wind. Her weight pulled him off balance, threatened to drag him back to earth and the waiting death. She twisted her body desperately as a goblin leaped for her dangling legs.

With a vast effort NiGHTS swung the girl upwards and against Aegis's side. She grabbed for the rough feathers and hauled herself up, taking care not to get in the way of the pounding wings. Another griffin swooped down for him and he scrambled onto its back, then lay full length and wrapped one arm around the feathered neck. The body beneath him was hot and full of power.

"Hold on to that feather!" Aegis warned. "Here we go!"

 

 

Once more the ravine was empty and bleak under the moonlight.

Clawz limped across the dusty ground, leaving a trail of padded footprints: often he stopped to lick at his shoulder.

He had wanted that pretty feather. He would have given it to the Wizeman - perhaps that might have made up for his previous mistakes. He had been soundly beaten for his failure in Twin Seeds Tower, when NiGHTS had come and, despite his best efforts, had eluded both him and Reala. His duty guarding the canyon had been another kind of punishment: it was a job, the Wizeman said, that even Clawz could not screw up.

But he'd screwed up nonetheless. NiGHTS - of all people, NiGHTS! - had come here, and once again Clawz had failed to capture the rebellious sprite. Even the dreamer, the final dreamer, had been within his grasp, and he had failed. The lord of nightmares would not be pleased when word came back.

So Clawz wandered back and forth across the canyon, afraid to go back and explain himself. He knew he would be in for yet another beating and the bruises had not yet healed from the last one.

He paused now and looked around: his wanderings had led him into a narrower part of the canyon, the dead end where the fiercest fighting had taken place. The ground was buckled and broken, seared with fire and smashed up by the hammering of the Wizeman's hands. Clawz snuffed at the ground and scented the last faint traces of violence. He could smell the Wizeman here: sulphur and hot stone. And there was another scent too, a strange one, like the scent before a thunderstorm - it made his head buzz... He snuffed at it again. The Wind Guardian. Clawz looked up and saw the damage to the towering cliffs: the stones were cracked and tilted, the canyon floor littered with rock falls. So this was where his lord had fought with a dragon. And had won, if the rumours were to be believed. It was dragon blood that Clawz could smell.

Nose to ground he began to trace the scent across the canyon floor. In a massive gouge across the ground he found its source. Clawz slid in a shower of dirt down into the hole, and padded over to the place where it lay. It was a surprisingly small thing, less than a foot long: a silvery crescent curve that ended in a needle point. A dragon's claw.

How very interesting.

Clawz sniffed it and then pushed his nose right up against it, rolling it over. He received a small static shock that made him jump and yelp. More cautiously he batted at it with a paw and sent it clattering among the stones. He played with it growing steadily more daring: threw it up and pounced on it, chased it as it tumbled away.

Eventually he tired of the thing. Crouching still as stone, he stared at it as if it were a mouse. He was thinking hard. The shining feather NiGHTS had found... he had wanted it because it was pretty, nothing more than that. But even then he had been interested in the peculiar aura of that thing. This silver claw gave off a similar sensation: the one had been like a hidden fire that could be felt on the skin but not seen, the other was a tense electric thrill - lightning on distant hills.

Clawz sat back on his hind legs and scooped up the thing: he held it up in his red talons so that it shone against the moonlight. A faint breeze, the first he had felt in the canyon, ruffled his heavy black fur, and he started to grin again baring teeth the colour of old bone.

He would give his toy to the Wizeman. As he held it he could feel its importance - he knew his lord would be pleased.

 

 

~*~* THE COURT OF THE WIZEMAN ~*~*

Heat, heavy and oppressive, stifled the air. Tongues of black flame licked up the gloomy walls of the massive chamber. In a circle of black fire the silver claw lay, gleaming with ethereal light. Behind it squatted the striped goblin, bellying obsequiously on the searing ground, stretching out his crimson claws to rake at the hard tiled floor.

Three giant stone hands observed him, one facing and two flanking. Their eyes flared a poisonous green in the darkness, mirroring the luminescent gleam in the goblin's own eyes.

"This is an interesting thing," said the Wizeman.

Ecstatic with joy, Clawz purred, rolled on the hot floor to expose his softer belly to his master, a cat begging to be stroked. "I brought it straight to you, lord. A gift! A gift for my noble master!"

A hand swept down, snatched the silver claw and tossed it to fly winking and glittering in the air. Another hand caught it and held it up between thumb and forefinger. The Wizeman examined the shining thing with deep fascination, turning it so that its brilliant surface reflected the flickering shadows of the dark fire filling the hall.

"One thing puzzles me, though." And the goblin ceased its playful writhing, rolled over, stared up into the darkness with wide green glowing eyes. A stone hand hovered, gazing down. "Why," said the Wizeman, "did you not recover the other shining thing?"

Clawz's ears flattened.

"Do you think that I am unaware of what happened in the canyon? I see all that happens in my realm. The sprite came there, under your very nose, and took a golden feather from the battlefield. And you LET HIM ESCAPE!" The Wizeman's voice rose to a roar: an erupting volcano. A hand flashed out and swatted the goblin up in the air so that his body bounced against the wall and slid down it.

"He had help," Clawz whimpered, raising himself awkwardly on his front legs. He cowered back against the wall a thing of spiked fur and flaring eyes as three stone hands swept close. "Griffins guarded him, lord! I cannot fly - how was I to give chase?"

"He escaped because you wasted time playing with him," the Wizeman answered in a voice that burned with cold. "Once again you have failed me. I have no use for those who fail me."

Abject in terror the goblin pressed its back to the wall.

"If you had come back empty-handed, Clawz, I would have killed you. But -" and once more the silver claw gleamed as it was held up to the light "-because you have brought me this shining thing, I will be merciful towards you. One more chance I shall give you; one more task you will perform for me. Fail in this and you will die."

"I will do it, lord, anything!"

"Then go," said the Wizeman. "Find Reala and give him this message. There are three more of these shining things, and I would have them all for my own. All is ready; all is prepared. I will loose Reala upon the dream realm, and he will bring me the golden feather. And NiGHTS..." the voice dwindled into a long burning hiss.

Hurriedly the goblin rose to his feet and slunk out.

 

 

~*~* REALA'S DREAM ~*~*

In the nightmare it was raining - and in the nightmare it rained with attitude. Reala's domed pavilion sat squarely in the center of a stubborn dry spot half a mile wide: all around, walls of black and seething cloud cloaked the sky. Lightning flickered now and again, and even here the hiss of rain was audible.

Reala loathed such weather; it hardly needed to be said. Rain could not touch him here in his domain, but the stormy gusting wind was chill and damp and he hated it. He curled up between the tall arms of his throne and shivered. Below on the tiled floor, Ross prowled back and forth, bored and irritable. The rain had grounded them both for the time being.

Yet even in such miserable conditions Reala could not help but feel hopeful. He could admit it now: the bond with the dreamer was changing him in ways he did not fully understand. But he no longer feared such change. He had successfully merged with a dreamer and had not lost his own sense of self; though close, they were not one.

He yawned hugely. True sleep was a thing unknown to Nightmaren, who were themselves inhabitants of a dream world, but they did require rest from time to time. Reala's body was tired - and small wonder, for he and Ross must have flown for dozens of miles by now, back and forth across the nightmare. They both knew that there was much work still to be done: but both of them were confident now. They made a good team.

Suddenly an unwelcome presence intruded on his meditations. Something was coming. He sat up, stretched and then stood; on the tiled floor below Ross looked up at him, perhaps sensing the same thing. A spark in the darkness, somewhere out there, was leaping through the rain: bounding hundreds of feet at a time from island to remote island as it sought a way to come to his domain. Anger stirred in him. Who would disturb him here? Who would dare? None but the Wizeman... and in that moment he sighed. A message, then. There could be no other reason.

Reala stayed quite still for a few moments, seeking the distant fiery flare of another Nightmaren's spirit. Then he lifted his arms and glided down through the chilly air to land beside his dreamer. They waited. The fire-sense, a sight beyond the seeing, showed them how the goblin paused on every barren rock to cast about for another foothold, often striking the ground with a claw, or hissing in fear and anger as he gazed down into the void beneath. Clawz was flightless. The only way he could cross the skies of the nightmare was by jumping, using the floating islands as stepping stones.

"It is a punishment," Reala said, and Ross looked up at him. He remained still, folding his arms as he stared out into the clouds. "He has displeased our lord. Now his loyalty is tested."

"Remind me not to upset the boss, then," Ross said. Reala glanced at him, startled, and saw a grin on the boy's face. Did his dreamer jest at the expense of the Lord of Nightmares? That was a dangerous game to play. Reala wasn't sure what he thought of that - it was rather too close to insubordination for his liking. But Ross seemed to sense his unease, for he shrugged and looked away.

Clawz had reached the last stepping stone. There was nowhere else to go and still a half-mile expanse of empty space lay between the goblin and his objective. Reala sensed his agitation as he paced the length of the tiny island, buffeted by wind and gusting rain. Could he jump so far? If he misjudged the distance the nightmare would take him, and not even the Guardians could tell where he would end up. He will turn back, Reala thought: he will go away from here. But then he felt Clawz's sudden flare: the other Nightmaren had sensed his presence even though the clouding rain, and knew that he was home. Reala's fire-sense saw the goblin as an expanding globe of heat as he gathered his strength for the attempt.

A tiny black fleck soared out of the encircling clouds and through the empty space of sky. It was a prodigious leap for any flightless Nightmaren: but it was not enough. Reala watched the speck slow and begin to fall, and Ross glanced at him as if waiting for something.

"Shouldn't we..?" the boy said.

Clawz's outstretched talons, crimson-bright, flashed out and caught at the very edge of the pavilion, a ridge of rough uncut stone. They dragged for a moment and then caught. With a mighty effort the goblin hauled himself up onto the tiled floor and then just crouched there, his ears flat against his sooty pelt and his green eyes flaring wildly. Heaving breaths shook his muscled body.

Reala waited in silence.

"...urgent..." Clawz gasped out at last, finding the strength to speak. "...from the master... message..."

"Speak it," Reala said.

They watched the goblin draw himself up, recover a little composure. He stared at them both with eyes that flared like marshfire and cast a greenish radiance upon the tiles at his feet. "The nightmare lord commands you," he said. "You and your dreamer. You must hunt."

At last! Reala thought, and the heat of his joy made Ross flinch and step back. "What is our quarry?" he asked, though in truth he already knew.

Clawz's head hung low. "The sprite," he said in a fierce voice. "He has stolen a precious thing from our master's domain: a feather that fell from the wing of the Fire Guardian. You are to retrieve it."

"So once again my lord calls upon me to correct your mistakes," Reala answered, hearing what had not been said aloud. "Very well!" And he turned to Ross with a bright sharp grin and held out his hand. "Come! We fly tonight!"

 

 

~*~* THE DREAM REALM: MIDNIGHT SKIES ~*~*

Riding on the back of a griffin was a new experience for NiGHTS. He clutched at the coarse feathers of his new ally's mane and leaned forward to peer over, down at the ground that flashed past far below. He could not help but be impressed: he knew that he was more agile than these earth-bonded Nightmaren who pounded their way through the sky in a storm of wings, but he could not have matched their speed.

Swifter than any sylph or gargoyle, the untiring griffins had escaped the canyon easily: and once they reached the cooler wetter lands it was easy enough to shake off the hardiest of their pursuers in a bank of cloud. Now they soared over the lake in a long steady glide beneath the silver moon. Streams and rivers were white ribbons in the darkened valleys.

One by one their escorts left them, breaking away from the flock to rise towards the distant mountains of Frozen Bell. At last only two remained: Aegis and the one who carried NiGHTS now, a massive golden creature with plumage as brilliant as autumn. NiGHTS did not know his name.

"Well, my friends!" Aegis said in a ringing voice. "Where would you go?"

NiGHTS and Amy exchanged a look. "Mystic Forest, please," Amy said a little hesitantly. "That is, if you're not too tired..."

"Tired? Why, we've barely begun!" The griffin demonstrated his freshness by a series of swift banking turns that made Amy cling tight to his feathered ruff. He had made his point: he circled for a moment then settled back into steady flight. "Mystic Forest it shall be." Suddenly the bright eye glanced towards NiGHTS. "But first I would have words with you, sprite. Solemn words for a solemn occasion. You know of what I speak."

NiGHTS nodded silently. He closed his eyes for a moment to think, and then sighed. "We're in a corner."

"We are indeed," Aegis said gravely. "But all storms pass in the end, NiGHTS - don't forget that! Sooner or later there will be a blue sky. We'll just have to weather this storm and do what we can." His powerful voice was gentle now, and sad. "That may be little enough, but at least you're not alone this time. Take heart! We, at least, are ready and willing." He paused for a moment and looked away, concentrating on the flight. When he glanced around again there was an odd spark in his eye. "And there is... that."

The griffin's gaze was on the golden feather. NiGHTS still clutched it tight in his left hand: he had almost forgotten about it in the excitement of their escape. Now, he held it up and watched the sparkle of the moonlight on its bright stem.

"It belonged to a Guardian, didn't it?" Aegis said, and laughed at the look in the sprite's eyes. "Don't look so startled! I can feel the power in it just as well as you can. So Campanile died, and that relic was left behind..."

"It's something to do with the covenant," NiGHTS said quietly.

"Covenant?" broke in Amy. Both of them looked up, caught unawares by the question: it was Aegis who answered.

"The covenant," he said, "was a sacred promise made by the four Guardians of Water, Fire, Wind and Earth, each the greatest of their element. They swore to use their powers to help and to heal, and never to set one element above the others. Not even the Wizeman dared to break covenant, for the one who did so would be cursed for all time. There could be no return to the fabric of dreams for such a one - no rebirth, just an ending."

"And Campanile... the Fire Guardian... she's the one who broke the covenant," Amy said slowly. "Now I think I understand."

"Campanile's treachery is the reason the Wizeman can raise his own hand against us," Aegis answered with a grim look. "The covenant forbade him to strike directly against the dream realm, though he could send his servants. But Campanile joined his cause and brought the doom down upon herself... and the breaking of the covenant loosed the bonds upon all the Guardians, and all those who had once been Guardians. So the Wizeman is free of his ancient vow."

"But why would she do something like that?" the girl asked. "It makes no sense!"

"Perhaps you have to be fire to understand," NiGHTS said, thinking of another Nightmaren... a spirit of wind and fire.

They were nearing the forest now: the horizon was a mass of darkest green against the starry midnight of the sky. Below them the first scrubby trees were sprouting from the hillside. The griffins veered towards a massive rocky outcrop shrouded in fir and blue-oak.

"It is something I have wondered ever since the battle," Aegis said. "If the oath of the Guardians is gone... where did it go?"

Amy blinked. "What do you mean? It was just a kind of promise. If it's gone it's gone, right?"

"Not necessarily," the griffin answered. "A word has power. Sometimes a word is power. And the power in that shining feather that you hold, NiGHTS... it is something like a Guardian, but yet it is not the same. I confess, I don't understand it. But I think it may well be the most important thing in the dream realm. If the covenant could be renewed, and if four could be found to bear that responsibility..."

"Then the Wizeman would be bound," NiGHTS said, and with a kind of wonder he saw the first faint glimmer of hope that he had seen since before the battle.

"Then you have your path!" Aegis cried, and swept forward, rushing towards a high cliff where a river fell like silver light. NiGHTS's mount followed: he squinted his eyes against the speed of their descent, was buffeted by feathers, heard the fierce and joyful cry of a griffin, and then felt the jarring thud as his own griffin landed square on all four feet. They were at rest.

A little dizzy, he slid off the griffin's back and stood on solid ground - unusually glad to find it there. His mount twisted its head and looked at him out of bright yellow eyes, the mouth seeming, as it always did, to smile.

"Thank you," NiGHTS said, and bowed. Amy, flushed and grinning, did the same before coming to stand by him. They linked hands.

Aegis stood proud before them, a magnificent feathered beast whose half-spread wings glowed silver in the moonlight. His golden eyes were alight with power and life. "We will seek for other relics of the Guardians," he said, dipping his great head a little. "Our wings and talons are at your service, NiGHTS, and at that of your dreamer." His eyes went to Amy for a moment. "If you need us, you have but to call, and we shall answer. The Wizeman does not frighten us!" NiGHTS bowed again, but the griffin had already leaped from the lofty cliff and was soaring away into the darkened sky. For a moment he and his companion turned so that they were silhouetted against the moon, and a voice drifted back: "Go where the wind takes you..." Then they were gone.

"Wow," Amy said softly. "They're beautiful... I'm glad they're on our side and not his."

NiGHTS nodded. He had been impressed too. The only griffins he had known personally were those who lived in or near Spring Valley: Parse and Fulcrum, mainly. Those of the icy heights had a reputation for being proud and strange, and now that he had met them, their sheer wildness left him a little breathless.

He looked down at the golden feather in his hands. The feather of Campanile. Could Aegis be right? If there was a way to reinstate the covenant...

"We must find the others," he said. "It's very important."

"Then we'll do that." Amy put her hand on his shoulder. "We've got two already - how hard can it be?"

He smiled back at her. Suddenly a gust of wind tugged at them both and Amy stumbled - NiGHTS reached out and caught her with his free hand. It reminded him that they were standing high on an exposed clifftop: Amy could not stay here for too long. Now, where were they exactly? He knew this hill as a familiar landmark. So the river must be... there... and the waterfall...

"We have to fly," he said. "But it's not far."

Amy nodded and held out her hand. He reached out his own.

And then stopped, and turned to the east where a streak of fire split the sky. A hot desert wind stung his eyes and tore at Amy's hair. She had frozen in the same attitude, but now her head turned and she looked at him. "It's him," she said softly.

"Not just him," NiGHTS said as the djinn descended, though he could barely believe what he sensed from the wind. But in another moment he knew it to be truth. Reala touched down gently on the clifftop, and grinned at him, and the smile was new and strange on that painted face.

"Merge," Reala/dreamer said, almost kindly.

NiGHTS backed away until he bumped into Amy. Their hands found each other and gripped tight.

"Merge, NiGHTS, and fight us. Or give us the feather. Either way, you die."

He kept staring, trying to understand. Reala merged with a dreamer? A dreamer in league with the Wizeman? Either way, it made no sense at all.

"NiGHTS?" Amy whispered.

They couldn't flee unless they merged - Reala/dreamer would easily overtake NiGHTS alone, and anyway, Amy couldn't fly. But if they merged they would have to fight, and Reala/dreamer had ideya. And Amy... though they had flown together she had not yet fought with him, and he knew that they were not ready. This was not a battle NiGHTS could win. But there was no choice. He would have to try.

Her fingers tightened on his. With his free hand he slipped the feather into his shirt for safekeeping, and then in a swirl of wind they came together as one.

Reala gave them no quarter. Without a second's pause he was flying at them headfirst, spinning in a deadly drill-dash to ram them. NiGHTS flung himself to the left - but Amy had already tried to dodge right. There was a moment of confusion and pain and then a far greater pain as Reala cannoned into them. NiGHTS felt the gem on his chest drive hard against his body: it hurt like the slice of a knife. Out of control he toppled backwards into empty space, listening to the howl of the wind as he plunged down the side of the cliff. Reala dove after him. Dizzy with pain NiGHTS watched the golden flare grow larger and larger in his sight.

As his consciousness flickered Amy took control and pulled them out of the suicide dive. She hurled herself at the rock and hung there, clutching grimly at the crumbling stones and scrabbling for a foothold. Reala shot past them and had to swoop around in a wide circle to correct his own descent.

Slowly NiGHTS's head cleared. His fingers stung sharply and there was a warm wetness creeping down his chest. It took a real mental effort to reclaim control of his body, but he did so - and then let go of the earth and gave himself back to the wind.

They're too strong, he thought and cursed his own lack of foresight. Why hadn't he and Amy prepared? They've been training together. We have to escape, find water. He just hoped that the ancient trick would work one more time. Reala/dreamer might well follow him into water if they were as good together as they seemed to be. He had no idea what the effect of merging would be on Reala.

Here they came again! A tight fast curve, supremely controlled: he had never seen Reala fly like this. The djinn's fighting style was usually loose and undisciplined, glorying in displays of power. He wasn't blustering tonight - all he wanted was to win. NiGHTS took off directly upwards, straining for speed to escape the golden flare rising swiftly under him. Fear flooded his body with warmth and drowned the pain of his bruises.

Reala's hard head slammed into the small of his back and he was thrown for a second time against the rock surface. This time he heard it shatter. He fell again in a rain of earth and pebbles, and Reala flashed down in hot pursuit. The djinn's sudden laughter burned in the night.

Fly! Amy begged, but he couldn't: it hurt too much. Gravity dragged him downwards for the hated earth to claim him. The feather was slipping free of his shirt and he lacked the strength to snatch at it. Reala's taloned hands were outstretched in readiness to claim the prize as it spun free. NiGHTS gazed up into the djinn's brilliant blue eyes and felt a strange sense of knowingness in that look. But before he could pursue the thought, his own eyes failed him and the stars slipped away into darkness...

 

 

Amy suddenly realised she was alone.