Read Online Waking in Dreamland by Jody Lynne Nye - Free Book Online
Authors: Jody Lynne Nye
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king sighed. Roan explained what he had found.
“They must be stopped, Roan,” the king said. “You must go after them.”
“I will, Your Majesty,” Roan said. “I will follow Brom at once on foot. The steeds will come back soon, but we cannot risk waiting. I’ll try and pick up the trail.” He started to shift out of his colorful court robes and back into a practical traveling suit. “It’s a good thing I didn’t unpack yet.” He felt in his pocket for his all-purpose knife.
“Go,” Byron said, his noble brow creased with worry. “I and the whole of the Dreamland are relying on you!”
Roan bowed. He was honored to be trusted, but his thoughts were troubled. He was already thinking ahead.
“You’ll need help,” Bergold said gravely, appearing at his elbow. His floating clothes became a sensible tweed suit with a gored skirt, and his silk slippers turned into brown leather brogues. “I’d better get some traveling things together. Bless me! What does one pack to save the world?”
“Everything,” said Thomasen, throwing up his hands in a rare show of agitation. “Great Night! I don’t know what to do! How many of them were there? Should we send men-at-arms?”
“The radar on the roof shows nothing,” a guard panted. “I ran up to look, but they haven’t seen a thing.”
“They’ve pulled reality around themselves with the crucible,” Roan said. “They’re going to make it as hard as possible to find them.”
“But where are they going?” demanded Micah, wringing his hands around the head of his staff. “I have no records for the Hall of the Sleepers. Brom has made his assumptions from innuendo, not fact.”
“May we see the map?” Roan asked the Royal Geographer. She opened up the huge chart, and they scanned it.
“I see nothing that indicates the location of the Hall,” Micah said, elbowing between Roan and Romney. “What is it that Brom thinks he sees here?”
“We must stop them long before they get there,” Captain Spar said. “You can ask Brom where it is when I haul him back in chains.”
“You, you, and you, prepare food, supplies, tents, and weapons,” the king said, pointing at his guards. “This is a serious act of premeditated mayhem. We do not know how far they are prepared to go to defend this unspeakable behavior. I will welcome volunteers to accompany Roan.” There was a chorus of voices, and dozens came forward. Princess Leonora stood up, too, towering above the others on her pedestal.
“I want to go, Daddy,” she said.
“No!” Roan exclaimed, then realized by the startled look on her face that he had failed in tact. A storm began brewing in her eyes, changing them from hazel to a darkly dangerous gray. Roan had to defuse her temper, and quickly. He had embarrassed her before her parents and her people. He knew she would not stand for that.
“Your Highness,” he began, stressing her title and bowing deeply before her, “it’s too dangerous for you to abandon the capital. You’re the heir to the kingdom.”
“One that won’t exist for me to inherit if Brom and his idiots destroy it!” Leonora said, dismissing danger with an angry wave of her hand. She appealed to her father. “Daddy, please! I want to help.”
“Your Majesty,” Roan said, equally insistent, “there’s no time.”
“My dear, you can’t go,” the king said, reaching up and taking his daughter’s hand. “It’s impossible.”
Leonora looked from one to the other, disengaged her hand from her father’s. The marble pedestal shrank into the floor, and she stalked off it, her face a stiff mask. She threw open the silk curtains and marched through them. Her train of courtiers bustled away behind her. The king and queen exchanged glances, and Her Majesty slipped off her throne to follow her daughter, clucking maternally to herself as she went. Her doctors and ladies streamed away in her wake.
Roan’s heart sank. He knew he’d have to face a flood of
“They must be stopped, Roan,” the king said. “You must go after them.”
“I will, Your Majesty,” Roan said. “I will follow Brom at once on foot. The steeds will come back soon, but we cannot risk waiting. I’ll try and pick up the trail.” He started to shift out of his colorful court robes and back into a practical traveling suit. “It’s a good thing I didn’t unpack yet.” He felt in his pocket for his all-purpose knife.
“Go,” Byron said, his noble brow creased with worry. “I and the whole of the Dreamland are relying on you!”
Roan bowed. He was honored to be trusted, but his thoughts were troubled. He was already thinking ahead.
“You’ll need help,” Bergold said gravely, appearing at his elbow. His floating clothes became a sensible tweed suit with a gored skirt, and his silk slippers turned into brown leather brogues. “I’d better get some traveling things together. Bless me! What does one pack to save the world?”
“Everything,” said Thomasen, throwing up his hands in a rare show of agitation. “Great Night! I don’t know what to do! How many of them were there? Should we send men-at-arms?”
“The radar on the roof shows nothing,” a guard panted. “I ran up to look, but they haven’t seen a thing.”
“They’ve pulled reality around themselves with the crucible,” Roan said. “They’re going to make it as hard as possible to find them.”
“But where are they going?” demanded Micah, wringing his hands around the head of his staff. “I have no records for the Hall of the Sleepers. Brom has made his assumptions from innuendo, not fact.”
“May we see the map?” Roan asked the Royal Geographer. She opened up the huge chart, and they scanned it.
“I see nothing that indicates the location of the Hall,” Micah said, elbowing between Roan and Romney. “What is it that Brom thinks he sees here?”
“We must stop them long before they get there,” Captain Spar said. “You can ask Brom where it is when I haul him back in chains.”
“You, you, and you, prepare food, supplies, tents, and weapons,” the king said, pointing at his guards. “This is a serious act of premeditated mayhem. We do not know how far they are prepared to go to defend this unspeakable behavior. I will welcome volunteers to accompany Roan.” There was a chorus of voices, and dozens came forward. Princess Leonora stood up, too, towering above the others on her pedestal.
“I want to go, Daddy,” she said.
“No!” Roan exclaimed, then realized by the startled look on her face that he had failed in tact. A storm began brewing in her eyes, changing them from hazel to a darkly dangerous gray. Roan had to defuse her temper, and quickly. He had embarrassed her before her parents and her people. He knew she would not stand for that.
“Your Highness,” he began, stressing her title and bowing deeply before her, “it’s too dangerous for you to abandon the capital. You’re the heir to the kingdom.”
“One that won’t exist for me to inherit if Brom and his idiots destroy it!” Leonora said, dismissing danger with an angry wave of her hand. She appealed to her father. “Daddy, please! I want to help.”
“Your Majesty,” Roan said, equally insistent, “there’s no time.”
“My dear, you can’t go,” the king said, reaching up and taking his daughter’s hand. “It’s impossible.”
Leonora looked from one to the other, disengaged her hand from her father’s. The marble pedestal shrank into the floor, and she stalked off it, her face a stiff mask. She threw open the silk curtains and marched through them. Her train of courtiers bustled away behind her. The king and queen exchanged glances, and Her Majesty slipped off her throne to follow her daughter, clucking maternally to herself as she went. Her doctors and ladies streamed away in her wake.
Roan’s heart sank. He knew he’d have to face a flood of
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