 
Dreamweavers: Awakening
P J G Robbins

Dreamweavers: Awakening

By P J G Robbins

Copyright 2014 P J G Robbins

Smashwords Edition

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1

Drip... drip... drip...

The rhythmic sound was all that remained of the storm that had blown through the city so swiftly and decisively. Torrents of water flowed through the gutters, taking the contents of the flooded sewers and spreading them far and wide. An oppressive stench hung thickly in the air and, with most of the populace seeking refuge indoors, an eerie stillness prevailed. All in all, Ryan Butler could have picked a better night to find himself cowering in a shop doorway to escape the elements. And to hide from his pursuers.

The storm had caused rolling blackouts city-wide that had assisted his getaway, but he now had no idea where he was, nor which direction he had come from. Everything looked the same; grid-iron roads lined with run down mini-marts and pawn shops, all lit by garish neon signs that flickered and buzzed as the electricity sub-stations struggled to cope with demand. It was a stark and desolate place, seemingly devoid of life. The only creatures Ryan had encountered while he had been making his escape was the occasional mangy dog roaming the streets, foraging in the garbage down one of the foreboding alleyways that riddled the city.

It was like a scene out of one of the many computer games that Ryan enjoyed so much. He had played through such desolate suburban landscapes countless times; fighting terrorists, hijacking cars and fending off hordes of the undead at various points in his gaming career. Quite how he had managed to end up slap bang in the middle of such a scenario was anyone's guess, but the reality was far grimmer than he could ever have imagined. For a start, he had no weapon at his side. No shotgun. No sub-machinegun. No sniper rifle. Not even a baseball bat. Quite what he would have done had he been in possession of any of these, he was not entirely sure. He was deft with a keyboard and mouse, and deadly with a joypad, but the reality was that Ryan had never even held a real gun, let alone fired one. Still, it would have been a comfort to have had one alongside him just the same. When he had been confronted by the faceless mob the feeling of cold steel in his hand would have given him some confidence, even if he'd had no idea what to do with it.

The faceless mob; how true that statement was. Ever since he had arrived in the city they had been after him; a shambling group of its inhabitants devoid of any facial features whatsoever. What they wanted from a young lad like him, Ryan didn't know. He felt like he'd been running from them for days and, for the time being, was simply glad of the opportunity to get some rest. He pulled his jacket close in around him, as if it would keep the terrible night at bay, and kicked his feet up onto a pile of trash and old newspapers on the other side of the doorway.

'Gnnnh.... Whassat?'

Ryan jumped as the pile of refuse shifted beneath his feet. He pressed back into his corner, wide-eyed and afraid, ready to run for his life in a heartbeat. Slowly a shaggy head appeared from beneath a tabloid paper. Dark eyes within sunken sockets regarded him keenly.

'Got any booze?' asked the man eventually. Ryan began to wonder if the smell in the air really was coming from the sewers. He shook his head.

'Shame,' grunted the man, uncoiling himself from the foetal position. He yawned and stretched out his arms and legs. He was wearing a tatty tracksuit beneath an even more threadbare jacket. Somewhat surprisingly, he was clean-shaven.

'You... you've got a face,' stuttered Ryan, not taking his eyes off the man.

The vagrant put his hands up to his cheeks and patted around his eyes, nose and mouth, as if discovering them for the first time.

'So I have,' he said, relieved. 'Thanks for letting me know. I was worried they might come and take it while I was having a kip. Jolly good.'

'They?' said Ryan frowning. 'You mean...'

'... them fellas without any faces to call their own?' finished the man. 'Yup. Dunno why, but they can't abide a face round here. Even one as beautiful as mine.'

He gave a great, wheezing laugh that trailed away into a long, hacking cough. Ryan wrinkled his nose at the sound and looked away.

'Hey.'

The man tapped him on the shoulder and he turned back.

'They didn't follow you here did they?'

Ryan shook his head.

'I lost them when the power went down.'

The man relaxed.

'Oh good. Took me ages to shake them off. Had to head down into the sewers to get them off my tail. Now it seems that the sewers have come up here for the night, so I guess I don't smell so bad.'

At that moment the headlights of a car illuminated the street. Strange shadows jumped and flickered across the buildings in eerie synchrony, and they bowed their heads to escape the vehicle's angry glare. They were not, however, protected from the wave of sewage it threw up as it passed by and, as Ryan felt a stream of filth trickling down his neck, a long-suppressed rage suddenly ignited within him.

'Son of a...!' he yelled, jumping to his feet and punctuating his outburst by hurling a empty can of beer down the road in the direction the vehicle had gone.

He watched as the can skidded and clattered to a halt on the damp asphalt. There was no sign of the vehicle, yet it had passed only a second before and there were no side roads it could have turned down. Weird.

Ryan shivered as the brooding night took hold, and yearned for something familiar to appear that might take him away from this godforsaken place. He turned to sit back down and stopped. Across the street behind him the faceless hordes were massed. Hundreds, if not a thousand or more, standing in rank and file. Motionless. Staring at him.

He gave barely a thought to how a person with no face could actually stare. All he knew was that he could feel their malevolent gazes upon him and that he had to move. He started to run.

'Hey!' he heard the vagrant shout.

He imagined the dawning realisation on the man's face when he saw what was approaching. There was nothing Ryan could do. He was no hero. He had to save himself. There were footsteps behind him but he dared not look back. In the distance, almost disconnected from the world he now found himself in, he heard a faint scream.

Ryan knew he had to get off the streets; they afforded little cover and appeared to go on forever in a vast, featureless maze. He longed to get out of the city and find some countryside; somewhere with nooks and hollows where it would be easy to lie low and plan his next move. All he could do for now though, was run.

Suddenly an alleyway opened up to his right. It was hard to tell whether it had been there a moment before, but now it yawned invitingly at him. Ryan dived into it.

The sound of his footsteps resounded loudly off the dark walls. Or maybe it was his pursuers gaining on him. He passed several large bins and thought for a split-second about jumping inside one, but the faceless ones seemed to have a knack for finding him. Even with no eyes to see, nor nose to smell, nor ears to hear, they appeared to sense his presence.

The alley took a left turn and he followed it. More bins passed by, while above him the lowermost rungs of fire escapes hung agonisingly out of reach. Ahead of him he could see yet another road opening out and, beyond it, the dark mouth of another alleyway. He dashed across, catching fleeting glimpses of the faceless mob to either side of him; reaching out, clawing their way towards him.

In a heartbeat he was in the alley, surrounded by the clamour of footfalls on wet ground. He knew now that these were more than just his own. He willed himself forwards, but his heart sank as another wall appeared, looming out of the blackness in front of him. This time the alley took no turns.

Dead end.

Ryan slowed to a walk as he reached the foot of the wall. He almost expected to see 'Game Over' tagged all over it in spray paint. He had nowhere to run now. The echo of footfalls subsided and an uneasy stillness descended upon the alley. Slowly he turned round.

They were there; hundreds of them, again standing in rank and file, motionless and menacing. At their head stood a man with a shock of messy hair, wearing a tracksuit and a tatty jacket; the vagrant, now as faceless as the rest of them.

Ryan was desperate. He knew deep down that the last thing on earth he wanted right now was to become one of them. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out an old torch he'd been carrying. It had long since ceased to work and he wished it was something more substantial that could get him out of his predicament. In desperation, knowing it to be a hopeless gesture, he turned and tried to shine it at the top of the wall. If there was any way for him to get up there he had to find it.

_Click_ went the button.

There came a whirring noise and the whistle of something flying through the air. Puzzled, Ryan looked down at the torch and saw an impossibly long length of wire shooting from its end. He looked back up at the wall just in time to see something metallic sail over the top. The line went taut.

Ryan could not believe what he was seeing but, sensing that the crowd behind him were advancing, he thought he might as well make the most of it while he still had eyes in his head. He pressed the button again.

_Click_ it went, and with a swift jerk Ryan was launched into the air by his new-found grappling hook. He risked a look over his shoulder as he gained height and saw the faceless masses staring up at him – if indeed they could stare.

He shuddered and averted his gaze, realising with a sudden gut-twisting horror that he was almost at the top of the wall and that the line was pulled tightly across the parapet. He was going to lose his fingers if he tried to reel himself all the way in. He waited until the last possible moment before releasing the button.

Both his hands were clasped around the torch as he dangled over fifty feet above the waiting hordes. He bumped against the wall and almost lost his grip. He looked up at the top and knew that it was beyond his reach. He was well and truly stuck.

As he clung on for dear life he felt a dull ache rapidly growing in his arms. He desperately wanted to get over the top to safety, but if he released one of his hands he doubted the other would have enough strength left to support his weight. The dull ache intensified to a burning pain. How much longer could he hold on for?

Desperate, he pressed the button again and was yanked upwards until his fingers met the wall. He felt a sickening scraping as the bricks bit into his flesh. Instinctively he released his grip on the torch and for a split-second he was free; far above the waiting mob and away from the accursed wall and the pain that it had caused. Free from his own weight. It was bliss.

Then he fell.

Little did Ryan Butler know that in that moment at the bottom of the wall, when all hope seemed to be lost, he had done something that would change his life forever. He had changed the course of his dreams.
2

Ryan awoke flat on his back in his bed. As the familiar shapes that made up his bedroom swam into view, he let out a huge sigh of relief. The faceless hordes were no more.

Sunlight was streaming on to his face through a gap in the curtains and he rolled away with a groan, his cheek ending up on a cool patch of pillow that felt blissfully soft against his skin. He was safe.

Suddenly the rasping blare of his alarm clock tore through his state of nirvana and he swung his right arm in a great arc, knocking it onto the floor. It kept ringing.

_Damn it_ , he thought, and reluctantly he rolled out of bed and flopped onto the carpet. He pressed the 'Snooze' button and the obnoxious noise ceased.

He sat back against his bed and sighed again. It was good to be in his bedroom; his fortress of boy-dom. His large flat-screen TV sat in front of him with his games consoles on the floor in front of it; one of the controllers was tantalisingly close. To the right, underneath the large skylight that looked down upon his bed, was a stereo with stacks of CDs on either side; mainly hip-hop and gangsta rap – anything that would annoy his mum. In the other corner of the room, close to the window on the far wall, sat his PC; the nerve centre of his room. For a fleeting moment he thought about switching that on instead, but suddenly he heard his mum's voice calling from just beyond his bedroom door.

'Darling, are you getting up? You know that it's school today?'

Ryan groaned.

The May Day bank holiday had come and gone all too soon. He had just gotten used to lying in bed until well past midday. Slowly he clambered to his feet, then almost sat straight back down again as his legs failed to provide their usual strength. Resting one arm on his bedside cabinet for support, he suddenly realised how hungry he was. It was like he hadn't eaten for a week, though the empty crisp packet beside his bed told a different story.

Gingerly he left his room, ignoring the shower, and headed straight downstairs for breakfast.

'Sleep well sweetheart?'

Ryan gave his mum a muffled grunt of acknowledgement but did not look up from his bowl of cereal. He had topped it off with a double helping of sugar and was shovelling it down at a phenomenal rate. He reached the bottom and, without pausing, helped himself to another bowlful and a splash of milk.

'Nice day today. You'll enjoy the walk in.'

That comment made Ryan stop and look up. His spoon dangled limply from his right hand.

'You're joking, right? You're dropping me in as usual.'

He tried to make it sound like a statement of fact that was non-negotiable.

'No way young man. You need the exercise.'

It was true; Ryan was still carrying a veritable bounty of weight over from Christmas, which an inordinate amount of Easter eggs had done little to help. In truth he had always been rather large, though he was often quick to point the finger elsewhere whenever the subject came up. Like now.

'I'm sorry I'm not built like Dad, Mum. I take after Uncle Jez who, may I remind you, comes from your side of the family.'

'That's Uncle Jeremy to you,' replied his mum curtly. 'And don't you start that tone with me. Uncle Jeremy has a thyroid problem, while you're just plain lazy.'

Ryan scowled at her and reached for the sugar bowl.

'And there'll be no more of that, thank you very much,' she added, whisking it from beneath his outstretched hand with remarkable speed.

Ryan hung his head and stared forlornly into his cereal, realising with discomfort how similar the little pieces of puffed wheat were to the faceless people of his dreams. He felt his mum's comforting arm around his shoulder and her soothing voice in his ear.

'There there darling. Your father will be home in a little over a week. Don't you want to show him what a big strong man you're growing up to be?'

'I guess so,' he shrugged.

Ryan's dad was an officer in the Royal Air Force who had been stationed out in the Gulf for the past eight months. He was often away, and while Ryan did miss him a lot when he was gone, part of him resented how high the bar of achievement had been set. His father was good looking, fit and successful. Ryan often wondered how he could ever fill his shoes. Uncle Jeremy's he could probably manage, but not his dad's.

He finished his bowl of cereal, which tasted bland without the extra kick of sugar, and headed back upstairs to get ready for school.

It truly was a majestic May morning. After a dreary April the weather was really trying to atone for it. The sky was clear and blue, while a fresh morning breeze was playfully scattering blossom across the gravel driveway, whipped from the plum trees that grew in the front garden.

Ryan lived in the small village of Picklewick, tucked away in a small vale in the Chiltern Hills on the outskirts of Hemel Hempstead. Despite the nature of his father's work, he had always lived there; the village was close enough to the RAF base for his dad to get there in minutes if the need arose.

There was next to nothing in the village aside from houses, so Ryan had to go to school down in the town. Picklewick had a lovely secluded feel to it, yet it was only a ten minute walk to the bypass and maybe fifteen more to the town centre, where Ryan's school was located. Having lost the argument about how he was getting there, Ryan closed the gate at the end of the drive and, with a rueful glance over his shoulder, trudged off down the road. He was just reaching into his bag to dig out his mobile phone when he heard a voice calling out to him from somewhere over to his right.

'Ryan! Ryan wait up!'

Ryan rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. He had hoped to get to school unnoticed. He was not in the best of moods and would have preferred to have been left alone, quietly cursing his mum for not driving him in. He turned and greeted the owner of the voice with a smile that he hoped didn't look too forced. Running down the driveway of the large house next to his, as if she didn't have a care in the world, was Daisy Rose.

Ryan had known her since birth. They had played together as toddlers, gone to nursery together and had even been in the same class at primary school. Their parents were old friends and often shared evenings out when Ryan's dad was around. His mum still considered Daisy to be Ryan's playmate and best friend, and while Daisy clearly shared that opinion, it had been some time since Ryan had felt the same way.

The problem was that most of the other kids thought Daisy was, well, a little odd. She appeared to spend most of her time away with the fairies, staring out of the classroom windows at school, and wandering through the woods and fields around Picklewick in her free time. It was so unlike all the other girls her age, who preferred to bitch and squabble endlessly; concerned more about their appearance and who was snogging whom, while showing little interest in things like reading and going for walks in the countryside. It was almost as if Daisy had been born a couple of hundred years too late; she would have found herself far more at home in a Jane Austen novel.

Today she was wearing the white blouse and blue skirt of her school uniform and, for a personal touch, had braided a number of bluebells into her raven hair, bringing out the colour of her blue eyes to startling effect. Ryan didn't know any other girl who would have considered doing such a thing, and he knew that it would only serve to cement her reputation as a weirdo. Still, Daisy, or Dizzy as she had become known, didn't appear to worry about anything, and so the thoughts of her fellow classmates would barely register.

'Hey Dizz,' said Ryan as she fell into step beside him. In the three years since they had started secondary school their relationship had changed. Ryan had found that any association with her was damaging to his own reputation and he did his best to distance himself from her inside of school. Daisy had taken his hints rather well, being contented in her own company and seemingly impossible to offend. They still saw one another occasionally outside of school, which secretly pleased Ryan. He knew her not to be a particularly odd person, rather one with different values and interests than most. Deep down he was reluctant to throw away the many years they had shared together, but school was a tortuous place at times. First impressions usually stuck and labels were difficult to shake. Ryan had no desire to become an outcast.

They wandered down the lane enjoying the sunshine and the freshness of the morning.

'How was your weekend?' asked Daisy as they went.

'All right,' grunted Ryan, flicking through a list of messages on his phone.

'What did you do with the bank holiday?'

'Uh, not a lot. Computer games and stuff. Eating and sleeping. The usual.'

'That's cool,' said Daisy.

Ryan could have said that he'd started a nuclear war and she would have probably said the same thing. Incidentally, that was pretty much what Ryan _had_ been doing, but Daisy did not share his enthusiasm for gaming and he did not have the energy for any long-winded explanations.

'Aren't you going to ask me what I did?' asked Daisy, watching in delight as a peacock butterfly flitted between them, almost entangling itself in Ryan's locks of curly brown hair, which writhed like tendrils in the breeze.

'I guess,' he replied. 'What...'

'I visited the Dream Isle,' blurted Daisy, before the question had a chance to leave his lips.

'Where's that? Cornwall or somewhere?' asked Ryan, feigning interest.

'No silly, it's not in England, or even in this world. At least, I don't think it is. Not really.'

Ryan looked up from his phone with a frown. This was just the sort of thing that had earned Daisy her reputation in the first place. Like on the first day of secondary school when she had introduced herself as Daisy Rose, claiming that her parents had thought her so beautiful that they had named her after two flowers.

'Please don't look at me like that,' said Daisy in earnest. 'I'm telling the truth.'

Ryan didn't doubt it. He wondered if Daisy even knew what a lie was, let alone what to do with one. It was just that with her over-active imagination the truth was sometimes a little tricky to get his head around.

'Okay, sorry,' he said, deciding to humour her for the time being. 'Some sort of island, you said?'

'The Dream Isle,' repeated Daisy. Her eyes shone with such piercing intensity that it was clear she was very excited by what she was telling him. 'It's a place somewhere between here, the waking world, and the world you enter when you are asleep. It's the place from which all dreams originate.'

'Right,' said Ryan carefully. As much as he liked Daisy, she did come out with some really bizarre stuff sometimes. 'That makes sense, I guess.'

They crossed the bridge over the dual carriageway and followed the road that led down the hill and into town.

'I'm not sure how I got there,' continued Daisy. 'It only happened last night and I was not there for very long.'

'Oh, so you dreamt it,' said Ryan, finally cottoning on.

'Well I guess you could say that. I _was_ asleep at the time. But it is a place outside of your dreams where you end up when a dream finishes. It's difficult to explain.'

_And even more difficult to understand_ , thought Ryan.

He looked back down at his phone and started composing a message. Daisy had clearly been inspired by the dream she'd had, but to Ryan it was just that; a dream. Nothing more.

There was a period of silence as they headed down the hill into town.

'There were other people there,' said Daisy suddenly, not wishing to give up on Ryan so easily.

Ryan looked up again.

'Other people?' he repeated. He was not sure why this came as a surprise to him. There were always other people in his dreams. He shuddered again at the thought of the faceless mob and the vagrant who had not been able to get away from them.

' _Real_ people,' said Daisy mysteriously.

'Everyone in dreams seems real,' replied Ryan.

'No, no, I mean REAL. As in; other people who were asleep at the same time as me and sharing the same experience. People in London. People in the UK. Everywhere.'

'Look, I'm sure it seemed that way at the time,' said Ryan, unwittingly finding himself being drawn into the conversation. 'I'm always dreaming about other people.'

'So am I,' replied Daisy, enjoying his input. 'But this was different. I spoke to them and they told me all about it. They said that I should try and remember the place and not dismiss it as just a dream.'

'That sounds all a little too deep for this time in the morning,' said Ryan. 'Hey, we're nearly there now.'

'Oh, right, of course,' she replied, as if remembering an appointment that for some reason had slipped her mind. 'How silly of me. Here I've been babbling on about my weekend and I've barely given you a chance to tell me about yours. You'll have to fill me in on all the details later.'

They had almost reached the school gates now.

'Sure, fine, okay,' said Ryan, growing agitated. 'Later.'

'Later,' said Daisy, walking through the school gates and seemingly unaware that Ryan had stopped several paces back, next to one of the horse chestnut trees that lined the road.

He watched her go and breathed a big sigh. That had been a close one.

'BOO!'

The voice was accompanied by a pair of hands coming down swift and hard on his shoulders. He should have been expecting it; Jack Thomas did it to him at every opportunity, but it still caught him by surprise.

'Ha ha, got you,' said Jack as Ryan turned to face him.

'You wish,' Ryan replied, throwing a punch at Jack's arm. 'You do that every single day and you haven't got me yet.'

'Yeah right,' said his friend, returning the punch. 'You jumped like a big girl. You _always_ jump like a big girl.'

'Dream on mate.'

Their scuffle ended with Jack, who was much the taller and nimbler of the two, getting Ryan in a headlock and forcing him into submission. Red faced and panting, Ryan straightened himself and picked up his bag, which had dropped to the ground.

'I could have had you,' he said as they headed through the gates and into the courtyard that the main school buildings over-looked.

'Maybe if you worked out for a year or two,' replied Jack. 'Hey, what were you doing with Dizzy Rose? You two going out or what?'

'Get lost,' said Ryan indignantly. 'Something about maths homework. You know what she's like.' He spun his finger around his ear and went cross-eyed. 'Hey look, there's Sophie.'

They looked at one another and then rushed over towards a pretty blonde girl who was walking towards the doors to the main building on her own.

'Hey Soph,' said Ryan, pushing Jack aside at the last minute and falling into step beside her.

Sophie Richards had been in the same form group as Ryan and Jack since their first day in the school, and both of them had fancied her from that moment on. She was smart and athletic, as well as extraordinarily attractive, which made it all the more surprising that she gave either of them the time of day. Both boys put it down to their irresistible charms and her enjoyment of the double act they played around her, but the truth of it was that success was not always looked upon kindly in the classroom. Naturally the teachers were always full of praise for an exemplary student, but it was not something that sat well with the other pupils. The girls could be especially vicious and, though Sophie continued to shoot for the stars, she often found it tough to be accepted.

Ryan and Jack had no problems accepting her however, and Ryan was always jealous of his friend, who was in the top sets for English, History and French, which allowed him extra time with Sophie.

'Hey Ryan,' said Sophie distantly as they started to climb the main steps.

'How was your weekend?' Ryan asked. He felt Jack cuff him on the back of the head as he caught up, but tried to maintain his composure.

'All right thanks,' Sophie replied. 'Netball tournament on Saturday, which we lost, of course.'

'I'm sure you were great though,' said Jack, appearing suddenly on her other side.

_Suck up_ , thought Ryan. _You'll get a dead-arm for that later_.

'To be honest, we were all crap,' replied Sophie. 'It's a team game after all.'

'Well, the rest of the team are all fat and slow,' said Ryan, seeing his own chance to score some points.

Jack gave him a look, hinting that Ryan was a fine one to be pointing the finger about such things. In response, Ryan took one of his fingers and pointed it at Jack in a very different way.

Sophie giggled.

1-0 to Ryan.

Just as they were nearing the top step, a tall, gangling figure with a thick mop of blondish hair brushed past them.

'Look, it's your idiot brother,' said Jack, grinning at Sophie.

'Hey! Bambi!' called out Ryan, and almost on cue Billy Richards tripped over the edge of the large doormat that lay across the threshold.

Sophie laughed again. 'He's such a moron.'

2-0 to Ryan.

Following registration, Ryan and Jack headed their separate ways as double English was the first thing on their timetable. It was as dull and pointless as ever, and Ryan spent most of the time informing two of his other cronies, Scott 'Gibbo' Gibson and Darren 'The Bandit' Bennett, of his exploits storming Omaha Beach over the long weekend. Darren's nickname had followed him up from primary school, where he had thought it up. However, upon starting secondary school he had discovered that it opened him up to a whole world of ridicule and had been struggling to shake it off ever since. If he had taken the safe option and gone with 'Dazza' instead, things would have turned out a lot better for him.

By the time first break came round and Jack returned, Ryan found out the score was now a healthy 4-2 in his friend's favour.

'It doesn't count,' he protested.

'Does,' retorted Jack, savouring the bright pink colour Ryan's face was turning as their argument developed. 'She was in stitches for a full ten minutes. Miss Porter had to send her outside to calm down.'

'You've got no proof,' said Ryan defiantly. 'So it's still 2-0 to me.'

'As if. Go and ask her yourself. I dare you.'

Ryan looked at him uncertainly.

'Scared?' taunted Jack.

'No. But it still doesn't count. I don't make the rules.'

They bickered until the bell went to mark the end of break and then headed together to their maths lesson.

Lunch followed maths, and after that came a full afternoon of science that left Ryan's brain feeling numb and his body fatigued. Both boys argued about their score until they reached the school gate at the end of the day. Jack said goodbye in his usual way – giving Ryan a dead leg – and then headed off to his home in the centre of town. Ryan sighed and began limping grumpily up the hill that led back to Picklewick.

The weather was still gorgeous, but now the warmth of the day and the lack of any breeze gave the air a stuffy feel. Pollen was rife and Ryan thanked his stars that he'd never suffered from hay fever – although that hadn't stopped him from using it as an excuse for missing school on a number of occasions.

He had just crossed the bypass, where the road swung to the right and skirted the shoulder of the hill that hid Picklewick from the town, when, from a footpath to his left, Daisy appeared, carrying a bunch of wild flowers.

For a fleeting second Ryan thought about throwing himself into the undergrowth and waiting until she'd gone, but by the time the thought had registered she had already caught sight of him.

'Ryan!' she called out delightedly, running over to him. The bluebells in her hair were looking a little worse for wear and her knees were cut and dirty, presumably from foraging for her flowers. Even so, her eternal happiness shone through undimmed and it was impossible for Ryan not to crack a smile.

'Smell these, aren't they wonderful?' she said, thrusting the flowers in his face.

'Gerroff!' spluttered Ryan as an intoxicating mix of fragrances overwhelmed his sense of smell. He staggered on the spot for a moment with his arms slightly outstretched, before letting out an enormous sneeze that startled a nearby wood pigeon into flight.

'Sorry,' said Daisy giggling.

'I've told you before Dizz; blokes don't like flowers.'

'Sure they do. They just don't like to admit it because it spoils their image. It's just like you and me not socialising at school.'

Ryan opened his mouth to protest that it wasn't nearly the same thing, but then realised that she was actually dead right. He stuttered a feeble response before falling silent.

'So tell me more about your weekend,' said Daisy as they began walking again.

'Nothing much to tell,' replied Ryan. 'Mum was out most of the time and I stayed in my room playing games.'

'With Jack Thomas and the other boys?'

'No, they were all busy doing stuff with their families.'

'So you spent the whole weekend alone? Didn't you go outside? The weather was lovely.'

'No, of course not,' snorted Ryan. 'What's there that's fun to do outside?'

'Oh loads of stuff Ryan. Don't you remember when we were younger and we used to search for rabbit burrows and dig them up? Or when we built dens in the wood out of dead branches and leaves? Or the trips down to Snake Lake? There are endless possibilities.'

'You still do all of that?' asked Ryan, surprised.

'Of course. Except digging out the burrows. That's unfair on the poor bunnies.'

'I didn't realise,' said Ryan. 'I thought we grew out of that long ago.'

'You did maybe, but I can't see how you can grow out of enjoying the outdoors. It's always there waiting with something new and exciting to show you.'

'Yeah yeah, there's a big wide world out there and all that. I spent half the weekend fighting my way through northern Europe and the other half in the Middle East assassinating terrorists. I'm out there exploring it any chance I get.'

'But you're not _really_ experiencing it though,' replied Daisy. 'You don't get the smells or a sense of scale on a TV screen. You don't get to soak up the atmosphere.'

'What atmosphere is there in the middle of a wood?' asked Ryan. 'I bet I have far more fun playing my games than you do wandering about outside.'

'Maybe,' said Daisy dreamily. 'But I don't think I could spend all that time sitting in front of a screen. I'd be missing the outdoors too much.'

'Well, you should give it a go at some point. You might be surprised.'

'Only if you promise to come for a walk in the woods with me.'

There was a reluctant pause before Ryan said, 'Deal.'

Ryan rested his military mind that evening and went for something that required reactions rather than thought. His brain was still suffering from the science lesson earlier that day and he unwound by racing obscenely expensive cars through the streets of every major city he could manage, before finally succumbing to weariness and heading off to bed. His mum had been out all evening and the only evidence that he'd had any dinner was a tell-tale packet of crisps and an empty ice cream tub at the foot of his bed. His clothes were strewn across the bedroom floor and his curtains had only been pulled half shut. All in all it was a typical evening for Ryan Butler.
3

The wheels of the rickety old train squealed in protest as it lurched away from Hemel Hempstead station; one of the several remaining stops before it pulled into its final destination at London Euston. Long streaks of rain lashed at the dirty windows as the lights of the town slipped by. Ryan sat down in the deserted carriage and stared at his reflection in the window.

His features looked strange; twisted and distorted, as if the glass was not uniform and he was looking into one of those weird mirrors found at funfairs. As he moved his head around, different parts of his face bulged and receded, giving the impression that it was pulsating.

With a shriek of brakes that almost caused Ryan to jump off his seat, the train pulled into the next stop; Apsley. The rain-washed platform was completely deserted and the large footbridge spanning both sections of track stood forlornly in the dim light. A row of torches along its length burned defiantly in the face of the worsening weather.

_Weird_ , thought Ryan. _Why are they using fire as a source of light when they could be using electricity? Especially in this weather_.

Suddenly a piercing whistle split the air and the carriage lurched forwards. Then came the struggling pant of the locomotive trying to find some purchase on the slick rails.

_That sounded like a steam engine_ , thought Ryan, growing more perplexed. He pressed his face up against the window to try and see further forwards, but the track was dead straight and with the night deepening it was hopeless.

The train finally found some grip and it began to move again. Huge clouds of steam came billowing past the window, all but obscuring any glimpse of the outside world. Ryan was beginning to wonder whether or not he had boarded the right train. It had looked perfectly normal when it had pulled up. The sign on the front had read 'London Euston', and there had been the usual beeping alarm when the doors had closed. All perfectly normal. The seats were reassuringly tatty where numerous passengers had rested their feet on the bolsters, and there were empty cans of beer and unwanted newspapers strewn everywhere. All perfectly normal.

The train slowed once more as it pulled into Kings Langley and Ryan caught a fleeting glimpse of a solitary passenger on the platform. However, his carriage stopped several metres further on and Ryan remained alone.

A nagging curiosity drew him closer to the carriage door which, to his surprise, he found to be fitted with an old-fashioned sash window. As the train stopped with a final jolt, he pulled the window down and peered out. To his even greater surprise, the carriage he was standing in was now painted in burgundy and cream, rather than the green and purple it had been when he had boarded.

Far down the platform, illuminated by an ancient street lamp that was caked in soot, sat an old steam engine. It was painted in the same dark red hue as the lower half of the carriages and steam was pouring forth from its cylinders. Ryan looked on in fascination as it fought for grip on the wet rails; held back by the weight of its load. Finally it began to move again and an utterly perplexed Ryan went to return to his seat. He stopped in his tracks immediately, for the grim old interior was gone, replaced by an exquisitely finished carriage that looked like it had been taken straight out of an old black and white film.

Varnished wooden panelling and etched glass windows prevailed throughout, with small reading lights at each of the tables and deeply buttoned leather seats that were the same colour as the locomotive. It reminded Ryan of the drawing room in his grandparents' house, where his grandad used to sit in a great armchair and read Ryan stories while puffing away on his pipe. The brass fittings gleamed and the air smelt astonishingly fresh for something so ancient-looking.

Ryan seated himself at one of the tables and took it all in. It may not have felt familiar, but it was undeniably an improvement. The lights flickered as the train entered the tunnel that would lead to his stop; Watford Junction. He was almost sorry that his journey was nearly over, for he had become transfixed by the new world that had wrapped itself around him.

There was a loud clattering coming from the still-open window, as the noises in the tunnel collided and poured into the carriage. Ryan got up to close it, but was surprised to find a man standing there staring distantly into the rushing blackness beyond. He seemed to notice Ryan's gaze upon him and turned slowly to face him. Ryan let slip a small gasp of shock. It was the same face that had peered out at him from beneath a pile of tatty newspapers the night before.

The man walked over and took a seat opposite him without a word. Ryan sat back down and there were several long seconds of uneasy silence.

'Nice train this,' said the man eventually.

He was dressed in a morning suit with a white rose attached to the left breast, and his long hair was slicked back behind his ears. He looked to be in a much better state than he had been the night before. For one, he was in possession of a face again.

'Yeah,' said Ryan, staring dumbly at the man. It sounded lame, but it was all his mouth would allow to come out.

'So,' said the man, pulling a folded newspaper out of the briefcase he was carrying and opening it. 'What brings you to travel on this service?'

Ryan thought for a moment.

'I'm heading into Watford. I can't really remember why. I'm sure there was some reason.'

'Watford?' grunted the man, his face buried in his paper. 'I'm not sure this service stops there.'

'Sure it does,' said Ryan uncertainly. 'It's stopped at all the other stations.'

The man merely grunted and turned to the next page, settling back into his seat. Outside, the walls of the tunnel seemed to be growing lighter.

_Strange_ , thought Ryan. _It's still night-time_.

All of a sudden, the carriage left the tunnel and was filled with dazzling light that poured through the windows in a blinding stream. Ryan's eyes had become accustomed to the dimly lit carriage and it was a while before he could even look at his own hands again.

When his vision had returned to normal, he peered out of the window and was gobsmacked by what greeted his eyes. The sky was a cloudless palette of blues, fading from pale to dark the further from the horizon he looked. Beneath it, almost mirroring its colour, but sparkling brilliantly in the sunlight, was an ocean that stretched out into eternity.

Ryan went back to the open window and craned his neck out into the rushing air. Behind them, far below, lay the British Isles. They looked much the same as they had done in Ryan's geography books. What the books hadn't shown him, however, was the train line that came arcing into the sky from somewhere in the region of London. Ryan turned his head and saw the gleaming locomotive powering onwards along the shiny rails, which stretched out into the heavens and beyond. He stared for a while in disbelief, trying in vain to make sense of it.

Back in the carriage, the man had not even looked up from his paper.

'What is this?' asked Ryan, staggering back and slumping down into his chair.

'This?' repeated the man, peering over the top of his newspaper at the bewildered boy. 'It was a train the last time I looked.'

Ryan sat up, slightly annoyed.

'You know that's not what I meant,' he growled. 'I mean, a moment ago we were about to arrive at Watford Junction and now suddenly we're steaming out over the Atlantic. What the hell's going on?'

'Oh right,' said the man, seemingly pretending to have misunderstood. 'You're on the Railway to Heaven.'

'The Railw... you're having a laugh.'

The man put down his paper, carefully folding it back into its original shape, and leant forwards with his fingers steepled.

'Ryan. You're dead,' he said, without any hint of emotion.

Ryan looked him in the eye and then burst out laughing. The fact that the man knew his name had not even registered.

'I ain't dead,' he said, lying back in his chair. Something in the air, some tension maybe, had evaporated and he felt a lot more relaxed.

'I'm afraid you are,' said the man, equally deadpan.

'Whatever,' said Ryan, leaning over to stare out of the window again. 'I'm still here aren't I?'

'And where do you suppose 'here' is?' questioned the man, his dark features and even darker eyes impassive. 'Surely you don't find it normal to be sitting in an old steam train that is heading out over a vast sea on an unsupported stretch of track?'

Ryan turned back to him, his face dark with worry again.

'Okay, so suppose I am... dead.' The word suddenly left a vile taste on his lips. 'Where are we going?'

'Like I said; this is the Railway to Heaven. Next stop; the pearly gates.'

'Well, I ain't going to heaven,' protested Ryan. 'It looks dead boring. I'd rather be heading to hell instead.'

'That could be arranged,' said the man sternly. 'It's heading there afterwards so just stay on board.'

At this, Ryan's token defiance gave way and was replaced with a rising panic.

'I can't stay here,' he said, climbing to his feet again. 'I'm too young. I've got stuff to do with my life. I'm getting out of here.'

'Easy Ryan,' said the man as the boy made for the door. 'All you need to do is just stay on this train and everything will be fine. It's a great place you're heading for. Honestly, you'll love it there.'

Ryan already had his arm out of the window and was gripping the handle outside.

'I don't believe you,' he shouted. 'I'm not supposed to be here. It's not my time.'

'Ryan please, it really is your time. Stay here with me and everything will be okay. I promise.'

Ryan glanced out of the window and saw the diminishing form of the United Kingdom far below. He made a decision.

He didn't expect the door to open so quickly, so had no time to release his grip on the handle before it doubled back on itself, wrenching him out of the carriage and trapping his arm against the outer wall. He gave a howl of pain as it took his full, and not inconsiderable, weight. He dangled helplessly, trying to kick his feet onto something solid in order to take some of the strain off it.

'Give me your hand,' came the man's voice, and Ryan craned his neck round to see him leaning out of the doorway, reaching out to him.

'It's stuck,' cried Ryan.

'The other one,' said the man calmly.

Their eyes met for a split-second, and in the same instant Ryan's feet found some grip.

'Actually, I'll be just fine,' he said, and in one swift motion he kicked hard against the side of the carriage, wrenching the door off its hinges and tumbling away into the void below.

He caught a final, fleeting glimpse of the man's face looking both concerned and disappointed, before the train span out of his vision and he was falling... falling... falling...
4

Ryan's mind was back in the waking world well before his body had a chance to register what was going on. Part of him had been aware that it was just a dream while it had been happening, yet it had been so vivid that an element of doubt had crept in, even as the train had been steaming across the sky with him on board.

The same man had been there. Who was he? Could he be trusted? And what did he want with Ryan? Suddenly something clicked into place; the man had known his name. How? Okay, so it was a dream, and stranger things had happened, but it still gave Ryan an uneasy feeling.

He rolled over and looked at his alarm clock. It was 5:47am; over an hour until it would finally go off. Ryan felt quite refreshed by his sleep but, like the previous morning, was starving hungry. The prospect of drifting off and potentially coming face to face with the man again was not enticing, so after a few minutes of deliberation he got up and headed downstairs.

'Ryan? Ryan honey, what are you doing up so early?'

His mum was clearly bemused to find him out of bed before her. Ryan had just finished his fourth bowl of cereal and was on to cooking some toast.

'I'm fine mum,' he grunted as she entered the kitchen.

'Jesus Ryan, didn't you feed yourself properly last night?'

'No mum, _you_ didn't feed me last night, remember?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'You were out all night, weren't you?'

A curious look crossed her face that Ryan only caught the tail end of.

'Yes, I was next door at Uncle David and Auntie Jen's. I left a note on the fridge to let you know and to tell you what to do about dinner.'

Daisy's parents weren't really Ryan's aunt and uncle, but they had been referred to in that way all his life. His mum pulled an old envelope from under a fridge magnet – depicting the Parthenon in Athens – and gave it to Ryan.

'Oh...' he started, but his mum cut him down.

'I don't need that attitude from you at this time in the morning, Ryan. In fact, I could do without it full-stop. You make it sound like I don't think about you; like I don't care.'

Ryan never reacted well to someone raising their voice to him, and he was about to throw something back at her when he saw the look on her face. It was almost as though someone had died.

'Mum?' he said quietly. 'Is everything okay?'

'Yes dear, just fine,' she said, but the tears welling up in her eyes betrayed her.

'You sure?'

'Yes Ryan,' she said curtly, trying in vain to hide her emotions. 'Just go to school will you. And try to behave yourself.'

Ryan stared at her for a moment, unsure of how he should be feeling. Eventually his defiant nature stepped in.

'Fine,' he said angrily, slamming his knife down onto the table and marching out of the door, leaving his uneaten toast behind.

A moment later he heard his mum burst into tears.

A little while after the confrontation in the kitchen, Ryan found himself standing by the gate at the end of Daisy's drive. As much as his boyish pride did not want him to admit it, he was in need of the company. The weather was a little more grey and cloudy than it had been the previous day, but as soon as Daisy appeared, skipping towards him as carefree as ever, it seemed all the brighter.

'Hey Dizz,' he called as she approached.

'Morning Ryan,' she beamed. 'Guess what?'

Ryan unlatched the gate and let her through.

'What?'

'I went there again.'

'I'm sorry, went where?'

Ryan had prepared a whole speech about how funny his mum had been with him, but Daisy's cheerful manner had caught him off guard.

'The Dream Isle, silly. You remember yesterday?'

'Oh right, of course,' said Ryan uncertainly. 'Err... so that was last night I guess. When you were sleeping?'

'That's right. I met this lovely man called Tristram. Well, he was mostly man... Anyway, he showed me the way to this huge tower that sits right in the middle of the island. He said that there were people like me there; people who had also found out how to reach the Dream Isle. But he said that he couldn't come with me because he had an important mission to attend to.'

'Mission?' repeated Ryan, scratching his head. He could see Daisy's tale lasting all the way to school and he wasn't really in the mood for it.

'Yes, something about helping someone work through their dreams,' she said distantly. 'I didn't really understand. Anyhow, I followed his directions and eventually I arrived at the entrance to this place. Oh Ryan! It really is amazing. The view from up there was beautiful; there are rivers of dreams pouring out of the sides of the building and threading down through valleys towards the sea. I've never seen anything like it.'

'Yeah, sounds great. Listen, were your folks okay with you this morning?'

'Yes, of course. Why?'

'Well, my mum was acting really weird just now. She seemed quite upset about something.'

'She was fine when I got back from my flute lesson,' Daisy replied. 'She had dinner with my parents and they chatted away into the evening.'

'Weird,' said Ryan thoughtfully. 'Something's bugging her. Maybe it's her time-of-the-month.'

'Time for what?'

Ryan looked at her incredulously. She really had led a sheltered life.

'Forget it,' he said.

'Oh, you mean she could be on her period,' said Daisy, finally picking up the loose thread. 'Well, I can get a little emotional when mine comes around, so I suppose it could be.'

'Dizz, there are some things you should really keep to yourself.'

'What? You're not getting squeamish on me now, are you Ryan?'

She playfully punched him on the arm.

'No, of course not. It's just girls' stuff, you know? Like the flowers yesterday.'

'Oh, I see. I'll try not to bring it up again.'

'You'd better not.'

'Well, you'll have to catch me to stop me!' shouted Daisy suddenly, and she sprinted across the bridge over the bypass and on down the hill. It was a game they always used to play when they were younger, but had not done for a long while.

'That doesn't even make sense!' protested Ryan, but something compelled him to chase after her anyway. He finally caught up with her at the top end of the road that led past their school, where she had stopped to wait for him.

'Wow, you nearly had me there,' she said.

'Don't lie,' panted Ryan. 'I can't run and you know it.'

'Full marks for trying then,' she grinned, as Ryan wiped his sweaty brow on his sleeve. 'I guess I've got to go now,' she added, looking over her shoulder at the school gates in the distance.

'I guess so,' replied Ryan.

'See you after school then?'

'I've got footy practice today,' said Ryan, holding up his gym bag.

'Oh, well I may see you later anyway. Have a good day!'

She turned and skipped off down the path, leaving Ryan to catch his breath.

'We haven't got PE first thing,' said Ryan, as he and Jack sat in registration, debating which week of their timetable they were on.

Roughdown School operated a two-week timetable, but a lot of the core subjects were on the same day, week-to-week. Sometimes they filled single times slots, other times double. Tuesday afternoon was always double science, which was normally so numbing that Ryan could never recall what had gone on before it. This meant that come Wednesday morning there was usually an argument over whether PE came in the first or second time slot.

'Yes we have,' replied Jack for the third time. 'We're on Week B. See; we had double maths yesterday morning between break and lunch. If it was Week A it would have been a single, and we would have had Religious Studies as well.'

'Oh I don't know,' said Ryan exasperatedly. 'You know how science does my head in.'

'Yeah, it was pretty bad yesterday, wasn't it?' agreed Jack.

'I can't believe we've got PE now,' Ryan groaned, laying his head on the desk and staring vacantly at a girl called Louise Chapman, who was seated further along. She was possibly the smallest girl in the entire school, including all the lower year groups. Still, she was perfectly formed, and more developed than most, so in Ryan's eyes she was all right.

'I wonder what he'll make us do?' he added, referring to their PE teacher, Mr Brackley.

'Well, it's summer term now, so that means cricket,' said Jack with a smile.

'Or athletics,' added Ryan gloomily. 'Knowing my luck it'll be high jump or something even stupider.'

As it turned out, they had the joy of a cross-country run to endure, which pleased neither of them. The hills up behind the school in the direction of Picklewick were challenging to say the least, and Ryan was reduced to a walk within yards of leaving the school gates. Jack fared better, being a good all-round sportsman, but with the air turning muggy and the prospect of rain about, his spirits were also low by the time they had finished.

The weather turned just before break time, forcing them to convene inside and watch as a swift downpour drenched the playing field outside.

'You're going to get filthy later,' laughed Jack.

Ryan played in goal for his year group. He was not the most mobile player, but he had no problems making himself large when a striker was bearing down on him. His reactions were also remarkably good, possibly as a result of all the computer games he played.

'Look at it,' he said. 'There's going to be about a foot of water in the box by the time we get to play.'

'Did you bring your swim shorts?' laughed Jack.

'Sod off,' replied Ryan. 'If you boys do your job there'll be no need for me to get dirty.'

'We'll make sure a couple get through. We wouldn't want you to get bored.'

'You don't normally need to let them,' smirked Ryan. 'They just nutmeg you and run straight past.'

Jack gave him a shove, which was almost enough to knock Ryan off the table they were sitting on.

'You still coming round later?' asked Ryan, regaining himself.

'Yeah. I think Gibbo and the Bandit are still up for it too.'

'Good stuff. I've got something you're gonna want to see.'

'Is it your mum naked?'

This time Ryan shoved Jack, and it was hard enough to send him off the edge of the table and tumbling over a chair. As they both fell around in fits of laughter the bell went and they headed to their geography class.

The weather cleared up around noon and by the time the final bell went and their football practice arrived, the sun was out and they were able to enjoy themselves. They trained for three quarters of an hour, followed by a twenty minute match, during which Ryan made up for his poor run earlier that day by keeping a clean sheet.

They left school in their PE kits and began the long trudge up the hill to Ryan's house. Gibbo and Dazza had stuck around to watch them.

'You guys did all right today,' said Dazza as they headed out of the gates.

'Yeah, considering they were playing the year below us,' laughed Gibbo.

'Well, they've got a tournament coming up and old Brackley thought they needed a challenge,' said Jack.

'And you didn't even manage to beat them,' said Gibbo.

'They're only a year below us and they're quick little buggers,' retorted Jack.

'Plus, they didn't manage to score either,' said Ryan, pointing to himself.

'Well, you're probably the only one who did his job,' said Dazza, changing his tune.

'What's his job? Being fat enough to take up the whole goal?' asked Gibbo.

'Hey, if it works, it works,' shrugged Ryan.

'Oi, check this out,' said Dazza, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket and showing it to Gibbo.

'You didn't?' said Gibbo with a broad grin on his face. 'When did you take that?'

'What?' said Ryan and Jack together, scrambling over one another to get a look.

'I snuck a picture of Miss Ward in geography today,' smirked Dazza triumphantly.

'No way,' said Jack, grabbing the phone and peering at the tiny image. 'You did as well. God, her jugs look amazing in that top.'

'Damn right they do,' declared Dazza. 'You've got fatty over there to thank for that. I took it when she came over to help him.'

'Let me see!' shouted Ryan, grabbing Jack round the arms and trying to wrestle the phone from him.

'I think you already had a good look,' exclaimed Jack triumphantly, wrenching an arm free and holding up the phone to the others. They took one look and fell about laughing.

'Give it here!' said Ryan, releasing his grip and snatching the phone out of his hand. The picture showed Miss Ward, their Australian geography teacher and another girl of their dreams, leaning down and pointing at Ryan's work. Ryan, on the other hand, was looking somewhere else entirely. From his seat across the table, Dazza had got a perfect view down her top.

'Great work,' Ryan grinned. 'Hey, send it over to me and we'll blow it up on the computer when we get back.'

'I like your thinking,' said Jack. 'I guess we should all thank our stars that he took one of Miss Ward and not Mr Brackley's backside.'

'Yeah, Bandit!' cried Gibbo.

Dazza snatched his phone back as the banter continued all the way back to Ryan's house.

'Shoes off all of you,' said Ryan's mum as they trooped through the front door.

'Yes Mrs Butler,' said Gibbo, flashing his best smile.

'And try not to get too much mud on Ryan's bed sheets,' she continued. 'Any of you boys want a drink?'

'Oh yes please,' said Jack, giving Gibbo a sly wink.

'Fruit juice or fizz?'

'Fizz will be fine,' said Ryan, noticing the odd glances passing between his friends. 'Come on guys.'

He led them upstairs, missing their lingering stares as his mum headed off to the kitchen.

'Mate, your mum is fit,' declared Gibbo, when the door to Ryan's room was closed.

'Shut it, moron,' said Ryan, chucking his bag on the floor and flicking on his PC.

'No seriously,' added Dazza. 'Sod Miss Ward, your mum's a honey.'

'I hate to say it, but they're right,' said Jack. 'If I was your dad I'd leave the army and spend my entire life at home.'

'Will you all shut up about my mum! She can probably hear every word you're saying. Anyway, he's in the RAF, not the army.'

'Same difference,' said Jack, kicking back onto Ryan's bed. 'Hey, I wouldn't be worried about mud on your bed sheets. There's far worse on here.'

Gibbo and Dazza burst out laughing. Ryan just shook his head.

'Anyway, I thought you said you had some sort of surprise here for us,' said Jack. 'It wasn't your mum was it?'

Ryan glared at him.

'You're reusing your jokes already, mate,' he said. 'And if you mention her one more time I won't bother showing you. Dazza, the computer's fired up. Stick that photo on it would you?'

Ryan headed over to his large TV, underneath which sat several state-of-the-art games consoles. Next to them was a grey plastic box of similar size.

'What the hell is that?' asked Gibbo, coming over and picking up one of the joypads plugged into the front of it.

'It's a classic machine,' said Ryan, turning it on. 'Old-school gaming at its best.'

'Where did you get that?' asked Jack, sitting up excitedly.

'Found it in the loft. It used to be my dad's.'

'Looks a bit tacky if you ask me,' said Gibbo, prodding one of the buttons.

'It's not all about nice curves, you know,' said Ryan.

At that moment there was a knock at the door and Ryan's mum came in with their drinks and some bags of crisps. The other boys exchanged smirks, while Ryan glowered at them. As she door shut behind her, his friends all fell into fits of hysterics again.

'To be fair mate, it _is_ all about nice curves,' said Jack, wiping tears from his eyes.

'Shut up and grab a controller,' said Ryan.

Much to Gibbo's surprise and delight they spent the next three hours enjoying some of the most hilarious multiplayer gaming they had ever experienced. With pizza supplied by Ryan's mum, they were whooping and laughing until the other lads' parents arrived to take them home. With many a wry comment and knowing glance they left, and Ryan, having threatened to punch each of their lights out, headed back up to his room for another hour or so of gaming and to check out in more detail the picture Dazza had taken of Miss Ward.
5

The shimmering waters of a vast ocean spread out enticingly for as far as the eye could see. A heavy swell pounded the cliff-face, throwing up a thick curtain of spray that took the morning sunlight and broke it into a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour. Far beneath Ryan the foamy waters surged and ebbed, revealing a dark secret; the jagged rocks of a weathered coastline. From his vantage point on the highest crest of the cliff, Ryan marvelled at the brutal display of raw energy playing out beneath him. With every crashing wave he felt the blood in his veins race, as his heart synchronised itself with the ocean.

He had never felt more alive, which made it all the more bizarre that he was contemplating the seemingly impossible; to dive out beyond the deadly rocks and churning waters, into the big wide blue beyond. His mind told him to forget it; he would plummet like a stone and break on the rocks like one of the waves, his flesh torn asunder by the relentless forces at work. But something else inside willed him to do it. Whether it was just some compulsive fantasy, or perhaps a reckless determination to overcome the odds, he had a vision in his mind of soaring gracefully out over the rocks and arrowing into the water, like one of the many cormorants circling below.

It wasn't as if it was a completely ludicrous idea. Even as he had been walking up to the cliff-edge he had seen a figure clear the rocks in a seemingly effortless dive. It must have been the greatest feeling in the world.

_I can make it_ , he thought. _It's not that far. And if they could do it, then why not me?_

His eyes fixed upon a point just beyond the last of the rocks, where the dark shapes of submerged peril diminished and the water was clear.

'I can make it.'

He said it out loud this time, declaring it to the sea in defiance. It would not claim him. He would become its master.

He took a few steps back and his landing zone disappeared from view. All that remained were the calm, shimmering waters stretching away to the horizon, with no hint of the danger that lay beneath. He steeled his nerve. This was it. Then he ran forwards and jumped.

He had been right; it _was_ the best feeling in the world. In the split-second before gravity took over he felt immortal; hanging in mid-air with only the sea lying before him like a rippling silken sheet. It looked so inviting.

Then he began to fall. He knew it would happen; it was only natural. He looked down and began focussing on his target patch of water, his mind calculating by the second exactly where he would be landing.

_I'm not going to make it_ , he realised with a gut-churning horror. Something had gone terribly wrong. He was falling far too fast and, though he was still moving forwards, he didn't have enough vertical distance left to allow him to clear the rocks.

He chanced a swift, rueful look back up at the cliff behind him, where only seconds ago it had seemed like such a good idea. How had the other man done it? It had looked so easy. He turned his gaze back to the rocks, which were rapidly increasing in size as they rushed up to meet him. Even the nesting seabirds would do little to soften the impact. He was going to die. In a last bitter attempt to save his pride, he spread his arms like wings and imagined himself to be one of the birds; soaring out over the waters, alive and free.

A sudden blast of air and salty spray hit him in the face as yet another wave crashed into the rocks. The force of it was immense, blasting upwards and slowing his descent. He felt the air rushing beneath him and there was real substance there; something to push against. He flapped his arms and felt his body surge forward, accompanied by a thrill that sent tingles to the furthest reaches of his body. He was going to make it!

There was barely fifty feet of descent left, but he was in control now, his trajectory flattening out with every passing millisecond. For a fleeting moment he thought he saw a figure standing on the rocks watching him, then suddenly he was free from the danger, soaring out over the clear, blue water. With the buzz of victory racing through him, he locked his arms out in front of his head and speared into the sea with barely a splash.

What a rush!

It was dark under the waves; much darker than he had imagined when he had viewed them from up on the cliff-top. And it was getting darker by the second, for he was still descending. He had no idea how fast he had been going when he had hit the water, but Ryan had barely slowed at all on impact. A feeling of fresh dread swept over him.

_What if I hit the bottom?_ he thought.

He spread his arms and legs as wide as he could, and with relief he felt the drag of the water slowing him down. Beneath him yawned an immeasurable blackness, waiting to swallow him up in its vast, gaping maw. What lay beyond, he dared not imagine. He kicked out with his legs, which were finally in their rightful place beneath him, and at last managed to arrest his descent. But he was still moving.

Currents fought over him like hyenas over a carcass, pushing him this way and that, disorientating him and inexorably driving him back towards the waiting rocks. In a few seconds he would be dashed against them, pinned by the overwhelming forces battering his body until he suffocated. Then he would be left to the fish.

He was lost.

Or was he?

Kicking hard with his feet again, he righted himself from the ungainly position he had been thrown into and found that he could use his arms to maintain his attitude. He kicked again and was launched forwards with impossible ease. He found himself able to glide through the currents like a fish, with the water seemingly having little effect on him. With renewed hope and vigour, he aimed for the surface and kicked hard. Its rippling belly lay enticingly before him; close now, just a few kicks away. With one last titanic effort he reached it, bursting through triumphantly into glorious, dazzling sunlight.

Slowly Ryan awoke. A groggy mist lay across his vision and he rubbed his eyes to try and clear them. His hands felt cold and hard against his face. Away to his right came the sound of trickling water.

_It must be raining outside_ , he thought. _Mum had better not make me walk to school today_.

He rolled onto his side and immediately recoiled as something sharp prickled against his face. Had he left something on his pillow last night? He squinted in the half-light to see what it was, but the shape was indistinct. He reached across to turn on his bedside light but his hand was met with more prickles. Confused, he sat up, and as he did so something brushed against the top of his head.

_This is getting weird_ , he thought. _Clearly I'm not in my bed. Maybe I'm on the floor._

He reached out tentatively to his left and found the prickly thing again. It was a bush.

_I don't remember having one of those in my room_ , he thought.

He clambered to his feet and heard the crackle of twigs and leaves beneath him.

I must be still dreaming. But what is this place?

He looked up and saw hints of moonlight filtering through a thick canopy of trees. Reasoning that the sound of running water was coming from a river rather than a window pane, he set out towards it in the hope that the trees would thin out close to its edge and he would be able to get his bearings.

The ground was thick with brush and sloped steeply away to his left into a jungle of indeterminable size. There were many trees grouped in thick clumps, with vines entwining their trunks to form an impassable barrier. Ryan followed the only way it was possible for him to go, and within a few metres the watercourse appeared. It came tumbling over a series of rocky ledges, skipping away merrily down the slope. The moonlight shimmered in its many facets, and had he been inclined to look closer he would have seen something deeper and more mysterious within its waters. But Ryan did not notice. He was standing by the water's edge looking out over one of the most astonishing vistas he had ever laid eyes upon.

The trees had opened out to reveal a vast crater several miles across. He was standing about halfway up one of its sides, and even by the light of the moon he could make out other streams and rivers carving their way down its heavily-forested flanks. The top of the crater did not appear to be an abrupt edge, but rather a smooth, gradual transition from a flat, unseen land beyond. It was like a great whirlpool in the earth, getting steeper and steeper, until all the rivers were left with nothing but gravity to guide them and they cascaded into a huge circular lake in the centre. It was a breathtaking sight.

For many minutes Ryan stood taking it in. It was as if he had stumbled back into pre-history and he could imagine all manner of strange and marvellous beasts roaming this lost world. It came as quite a surprise when voice broke through the chatter of the water.

'Nice view, isn't it?'

Ryan turned to see a strange-looking creature standing on the far side of the stream. Half man, half bull – like the Minotaurs of myth – he peered at Ryan with keen yellow eyes that stood out dramatically against the wan shades of night.

'Not bad at all,' Ryan replied, thankful for confirmation that he _was_ still dreaming.

'What brings you here?' asked the bull-man.

Ryan was taken aback.

'I don't know,' he said frowning. 'I don't even know where 'here' is. I presume it is a place my mind has just conjured up. Last thing I knew, I was swimming for my life. And now I'm here.'

'Interesting,' said the bull-man, striding across a number of stepping-stones until he was only a few feet away. He was enormous in stature, the blackened tips of his horns towering over Ryan, yet the boy did not feel intimidated.

'Who are you?' Ryan asked.

'My name is Damocles, and you are right and wrong about this place. Yes, you are dreaming. But no, you have not imagined it. This land existed before you got here and it will continue to exist when you are gone. Welcome to Rasputin's realm.'

'Rasputin?' repeated Ryan.

'He is the creator of all you can see; the trees, the rocks, the dreams flowing by us now.'

'Dreams?' said Ryan sharply. Something Daisy Rose had said to him resonated in the back of his mind.

'That is correct. This is the place where all your dreams play out. As the waters ebb and flow, so too do the tales held within them. Every possibility is played out as they travel from the great sea at the edge of this land, to the lake in the centre that you see now. Look closely at the water and you'll see some passing us by.'

Ryan did so, and the strange texture to the water, which he had dismissed as a trick of the light, turned out to be a multitude of moving images flowing by, like fluid TV screens depicting what was going on inside.

'I don't get it,' said Ryan bluntly. 'Am I looking into people's minds?'

He found the images mesmerising. It was like watching fence posts out of a car window; you knew that loads were passing by, but it was impossible to focus on one for more than a second.

'In a manner of speaking,' replied Damocles. 'I know it must seem strange to you.'

'But if these are all dreams of people who are sleeping, am I awake or asleep myself?'

'Okay, okay, this is going to require some explanation, and I'm probably not the right person to give it to you. Rasputin is keen to see you, and if he can't set you straight then no-one can.'

'He knows of me?' said Ryan, confused.

'Of course,' replied the bull-man. 'He knows everything that goes on here. There are precious few people blessed with the ability to reach this realm, so he insists on meeting each new arrival in person. By your leave, I would like to take you to him.'

Damocles gave a small bow, which still left him more than a head taller than Ryan.

'Is it far?' the boy asked.

'A little way,' the bull-man replied. 'You see the tower in the middle of the lake down there?'

He pointed downstream and Ryan saw for the first time the ghostly silhouette of a huge building, its sheer walls rising out of the water as though the land around it had been flooded. Eight equally spaced buttresses protruded into the water, forming a huge star shape, and from deep within the walls rose a gigantic tower. Its tapered octagonal sides were perfectly smooth, and yet they caught little of the moonlight illuminating the rest of the crater. The tower was crowned with a large orb, with spiky protrusions that made it look like a medieval mace. Ryan wondered how he had failed to spot it before.

'Looks like a bit of a trek,' he mused.

'Fear not,' said Damocles. 'I know this land better than anyone, save Rasputin himself. I will lead you there by the swiftest route.'

'Okay then,' Ryan shrugged. 'Take me to your leader.'

Damocles' eyes narrowed.

'Right,' he grunted. He gestured for Ryan to head across the stream and down the far side, keeping out of the trees and following its course as it skipped down the slope.

'I think I've got a friend who's been here,' said Ryan conversationally as they went.

'Really?' said Damocles, the tone of his gruff voice showing genuine interest.

'Yeah, she was telling me about it the other day. I thought she was barmy if I'm honest, but I guess now I believe her.'

'Interesting,' said the bull-man. 'And did she describe this place to you? Is that why it seems familiar?'

'Kind of. She said something about a tower, I think, but I got the impression it was on top of a hill, not down in the middle of a huge hole.'

Ryan suddenly felt the intensity of Damocles' stare on his back, and he turned to find that the bull-man had stopped a few yards behind and appeared to be deep in thought. There was something in those yellow eyes that Ryan couldn't quite read.

'It must have been a misunderstanding,' Damocles said eventually. 'As I said; only a select few people are able to find their way here, so it surprises me that you know someone who has. Anyway, it matters not. I'm sure Rasputin took good care of her. Carry on.'

As Ryan turned to proceed a shadow swept silently across the moon. It passed by in an instant, but behind him Damocles gave a deep, burbling growl.

'Keep on this path for another hundred yards, then turn right and head into the jungle. You will see a large upright stone marking the way. I will catch up with you shortly.'

'Why? What's the mat...' started Ryan, but then he noticed what had caught Damocles attention. A creature with huge black wings was swooping down the stream towards them at an incredible pace. It would be on them in seconds. As Damocles tensed his huge upper torso for the impact, Ryan turned and ran.

The moonlight led him down the stream from rock to rock without incident. Behind him came the sounds of an almighty scuffle, but he dared not chance a look, for fear of tripping and being overcome by the winged creature. Soon he saw the standing stone Damocles had mentioned and he rushed headlong into a dark passage that yawned to his right, leading into the dense jungle.

The trail was narrow and overgrown, making progress difficult. This was exacerbated by the darkness that once again surrounded him. Branches and vines lashed his face and he had to lift his feet high to avoid tripping on the many roots that criss-crossed the ground. Despite the downward gradient, the going was precarious and tiring, not to mention disorientating, and he was glad when the darkness ahead of him grew several shades lighter, indicating that he was close to reaching another opening in the canopy. There came the sound of rushing water too, much louder and more dramatic than before, and as he burst free of the foliage he was met this time with a river stretching across his path. It flowed swiftly to his left before disappearing over a steep precipice.

Whether or not he had taken a wrong turn, Ryan did not know, but his way was blocked and the path was lost. Slowly he edged towards the cliff and looked down. Far below, the water met the land again on the ever-steepening slopes of the crater, before finally disappearing in a tumbling torrent into the central lake. Quite how Damocles expected him to navigate through such unforgiving terrain was a mystery.

'Ryan Butler.'

It was a different voice; smoother and not as deep as that of Damocles. There was something familiar about it, and yet Ryan had a dreadful feeling that it belonged to the winged creature he'd been fleeing from. Slowly he turned to face the stranger.

'How do you kn...' he started, but upon seeing the man's face his jaw fell open, hanging limp and useless.

It was the same man he had met in his dreams on the previous two nights. This time he was only wearing a pair of black trousers. No shoes, no shirt; nothing else.

'You!' gasped Ryan, taking a step back towards the cliff edge. The man took a step forwards.

'Ryan listen,' he said earnestly. 'You have reached a place beyond your understanding and you are in danger.'

'How do you know my name?' shouted Ryan, his body tensed and ready, he hoped, for any eventuality.

'I know a lot about you Ryan. I have been watching over you for a while now and keeping you safe, but more than that I cannot say at this time.'

'Keeping me safe?' cried Ryan incredulously. 'You did a great job against those faceless people. And what about when I was hanging out the side of that train?'

'As I recall you rejected my aid on the train, and as for the faceless mob; it was either you or me, and I seem to remember you being the one who got away. Now, I need you to trust me.'

'Why?' asked Ryan defiantly. 'What's wrong with this place? I was doing just fine before you got here.'

'Were you?' asked the man, taking another step forward. From the size of his upper torso he would have no problem overpowering Ryan.

'Yes I was,' replied the boy. 'Damocles was leading me to meet a guy called Rasputin. What's wrong with that?'

The man gave him a dark look, and from behind his shoulders spread two enormous, black-feathered wings. Ryan realised suddenly that the man wasn't actually wearing trousers, but that his legs were covered in feathers too.

'You have no idea where you are or who you are dealing with,' the man said, growing impatient. 'I'm sure that beast failed to tell you who Rasputin is and what he does.'

'Well, neither have you actually, and I'll take my own chances from now on.'

Ryan was standing on the brink of the cliff with the rushing water pouring over the edge beside him. He took a brief glance over his shoulder. It was a long way down.

'Ryan don't,' said the man.

'Screw you,' he replied. And he jumped.

For the second time that evening, Ryan felt the wonderfully-liberating feeling of freefall. Beside him the waters of the river fell in a massive shimmering curtain, within which a thousand dreams played out. Below him they smashed into the slope, carving through a thick swathe of jungle in a tumbling mess of white foam. Ryan wondered what would happen when he hit the water. He was now certain that it wasn't deep enough to prevent him from ploughing into the bottom. Perhaps a combination of the fish and bird abilities he had gained in his previous dream would save him? He tried to clear his mind and imagine himself soaring out across the land towards the mighty tower at its centre.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something plunging down to meet him. As his tumbling body rotated to face it, he knew that the man had followed him. He felt stupid; the man had wings for God's sake. Of course he could follow him.

Banking round in a great arc, the man glided towards him at great speed. Ryan wasn't able to turn fast enough and was helpless as a pair of strong arms seized him, sweeping him away from the pouring waters and up into the dark sky.

'Let me go!' Ryan shouted as he watched the land below him diminish.

'I wouldn't recommend that,' said his captor. 'This is for your own good Ryan. This is not the sort of place to be spending idle time. I'm taking you somewhere safe.'

'I _was_ safe before you got here,' protested Ryan again, struggling to turn his head and look him in the face.

'Keep still,' scolded the man. 'You've picked a tricky enough avatar for me to carry as it is.'

'Avatar?' repeated Ryan. 'What the hell are you on about?'

The man laughed. It seemed inappropriate at such a juncture and did nothing to improve Ryan's humour.

'Haven't you seen yourself?' asked the man incredulously. 'Take a good look at your hands.'

Ryan did so. Where skin and flesh normally resided, there was metal. His fingers, his hands and even his arms were made of the hard, shiny material, which glinted in the moonlight. He peered at the flat surface of his forearm and found an angular, robotic face staring back at him. Its features were vaguely his own and mirrored the bemused expression he was wearing.

'What is this? What's going on?' he asked, still staring at his arms.

'It's how you appear in this world. It's like an idealised representation of you; a reflection of your personality and how you see yourself.'

'A robot?' frowned Ryan. 'I suppose that's pretty cool. But why...?'

'Hey, I'll explain more when I can. Right now we've got company.'

Ryan craned his metallic neck and saw two dark shapes closing in on them rapidly.

'What are they?'

'Trouble,' replied the man. 'I can't out-pace them with you. We're going to have to go lower and try to lose them in the canopy. This could get a bit sketchy. Hang on.'

They had almost climbed level with the flat land surrounding the crater, but they were still some distance away from it. With a rush of air they dived, swooping towards the dense jungle at great speed. At the last possible minute the winged man levelled out, causing Ryan's dangling feet to brush the topmost branches of the trees. Unseen to him, their pursuers followed.

The man flew even lower. They were now beneath the canopy, threading their way through a deep gully of green. Suddenly the waters of a dark river appeared beneath them and they dived even further. It was like the best – and worst – rollercoaster Ryan had ever been on. Twisting and banking at every unseen turn, his mind struggled to register the rushing scenery that whipped past them at an impossible rate.

'You're insane,' he shouted. 'Shouldn't you slow down?'

'I think not,' said the man with a grimace. 'They're gaining on us.'

'Where are we going?'

'There's a sea encircling this land from which all the rivers and streams flow. That's where we need to be.'

'Is it far?'

'Once the land levels out we'll be pretty much there.'

They continued to skim the stream; weaving along its twisted path at an incredible pace. Ryan sensed that they were climbing less now, though he had no landmark to gauge their progress against. Behind them the black creatures closed in, their ghastly bat-like forms taking shape.

'We're not going to make it!' the man cried, even as the waters of a boundless sea appeared up ahead. 'I'm going to have to drop you on the beach. Head for the water and don't look back!'

'Why? What's going to happen?'

'I don't know. Please Ryan, just trust me.'

'But I don't even know who you are,' said the boy, as they reached the edge of the forest and the grey sands of the beach stretched out below.

'My name's Tristram!' shouted the man, and he let go.

Ryan hit the ground at great speed and rolled several times before coming to a rest, spitting sand from his mouth. Tristram! The same name Daisy had mentioned. Questions were forming in Ryan's mind far quicker than they were being answered. He looked up just as the two bat-like creatures swept over him in pursuit of the winged man, who was now little more than a speck over the vast ocean.

What would they do when they caught him? Did Ryan care? Nothing in this messed up place seemed to make any sense. He staggered to his feet, momentarily at a loss as to what to do. He stared at his hands and marvelled at the way the metal parts slid over one another as he flexed his fingers. It was certainly pretty sweet to be a robot. Yet he did not know whom to trust and whom to fear. Damocles had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, just as Tristram now did.

He raised his head and saw the two dark shapes bank sharply and begin streaking along the beach towards him. In that moment his mind was made up. Whether Damocles or Tristram, or both even, had been telling the truth, he knew for certain that those bat-like beasts were not his allies. Without further deliberation he sprinted towards the pounding surf.

Like a pair of strike aircraft in close formation, the two creatures swept towards him. As Ryan chanced a look over his shoulder he saw them closing in, barely six feet above the ground. Where was Tristram? They would be on him in seconds and Ryan was still some distance from the water. He put his head down and ran like he had never run before.

Ryan was surprised by the turn of pace he was putting in and how easy he was finding it. He felt like he could sprint forever, which was something he'd never been able to say in his life. It wasn't enough though, for behind him the two creatures were almost within reach. He glanced over his shoulder and all he saw was two pairs of piercing, sickly blue eyes boring into him. Horrified, he put his head down and kept running.

Suddenly the silhouette of Tristram burst majestically from the waters ahead. For a moment his dark shape hung in the air, his great feathery wings spread wide across the night sky. Then he swept towards them with impossible speed, skimming Ryan's head by mere centimetres and barrelling into the two creatures with a sickening crunch. A moment later Ryan reached the surf and dived into the foaming water.

Almost immediately his head broke the surface and he emerged into brilliant sunlight, as a wave of purest blue bore him to shore. Bewildered and disorientated, he staggered out of the water and onto the golden sands beyond. Ahead of him rose the desolate flanks of a volcanic island, seemingly devoid of life. It was a stark contrast to the lush jungle he had just come from. He looked back at the glistening waters from which he had just been ejected and wondered whether he had done the right thing. He was about to take a step back into the surf when he heard a voice behind him calling out.

'Ryan! Ryan! Oh my gosh, you made it!'

He spun round, startled, and wondered how many other people in this crazy place knew his name. For a moment he was at a loss to see where the voice had come from, then he caught sight of a figure running down the beach and he recognised the unusual gait immediately. It was Daisy.

Ryan was speechless. This was fast becoming the most bizarre dream he'd ever had, but he couldn't help cracking a smile of relief on seeing his friend running towards him. Yet even as she reached him and flung her arms around his neck in delight, she didn't exactly seem to be all there. Of course, most of their classmates would have pointed out that Daisy Rose was never 'all there', but this was different. Suddenly it became clear to him.

'Jesus Dizz, I can see through you!' he exclaimed.

'I know, isn't it great?' she cried, taking a step back and giving a twirl. 'This is who I am on the inside; who I'd be if I was given the choice. I'm a spirit, an elemental; at one with nature. Don't I look great?'

'Err... I guess,' said Ryan, scratching his tin scalp.

'And look at you; a robot!' Daisy continued, unable to contain her delight. 'Typical for a boy to become one of those, but it's definitely you in there.'

She rapped her translucent knuckles soundlessly on his metal chest. Ryan hadn't realised that he had retained the form he'd taken on in the other world, but he was past being surprised.

'It's nice to see a familiar face,' he said, looking round at the wide stretch of sand that disappeared into the distance in both directions. 'I've just had the freakiest experience ever. What is this place?'

'It's the Dream Isle. You know, just like I told you? With all the rivers and the mountain and the Spire at the very top?'

Ryan frowned.

'Then where the hell was I just now?'

Daisy's face darkened for a moment.

'I don't know Ryan. Where were you?'

'Somewhere altogether less pleasant,' came a voice from the direction of the sea. Ryan, who was getting rather used to people sneaking up on him from nowhere, was glad that he recognised it.

'Tristram!' cried Daisy, and she practically ran through Ryan on her way to embrace the figure emerging from the water.

'Oh my gosh, are you okay?' she exclaimed, upon seeing the streaks of blood lining his torso.

'Yeah I'm fine,' said Tristram, returning her hug and simultaneously shaking the beaded droplets of water from his wings. 'You should see the other two.'

'What other two?'

'Just a couple of old friends I was getting reacquainted with. Hey Ryan, nice work getting here. I've never seen anyone run like that before, and I can't think of many people who would have trusted someone like me after only a few minutes.'

'Well, it was either you or those... things,' said Ryan, sitting down on the sand. 'And I'm still not sure whether I do trust you. If Dizz wasn't here I wouldn't know if I was better or worse off right now.'

'Oh don't be such a grump Ryan,' said Daisy, coming back over and sitting down next to him. 'I'm sure it wasn't easy for Tristram to get you here, so I think you should be grateful.'

'I'm just confused,' said Ryan, putting his head in his hands. 'I mean, just look at this place. Am I supposed to be glad to be here? Okay, so the beach is all right, but the rest of it?'

'I know it may seem bleak, but trust me; there's more life flowing through this land than you can possibly imagine,' said Tristram.

He sat down in front of the two of them, his wings spread slightly so that they could rest comfortably on the sand. To Ryan, such a thing seemed perfectly normal now.

'This will take a little explanation,' said Tristram, reaching forwards and smoothing the sand between them with his hands. 'Daisy knows some of this already, but there is still a great deal that remains a mystery. Am I right?'

Daisy beamed and nodded.

'As I thought. Your first question, Ryan, I imagine is; 'Am I dreaming?' Well, yes you are, in that outwardly your body has the appearance of being asleep, while an artificial reality plays out in your mind. The difference being that this place – all that you see around you – exists on a permanent basis. It is what is called an advanced perpetual dreamscape, although that's just meaningless jargon. I prefer to think of it as a giant video store or online waiting room, where the films or games that you would call your dreams exist and play out. All you've got to do is select the one you want and off you go. Do you follow me?'

Ryan nodded his head slowly, although had it not been for the computer game analogy he would have been utterly lost.

'Every dream you've ever had originated in this place. This is where all the stories weave their magic, as they work their way from their source up at the top of the mountain to the sea behind me. From the simplest, most humble dream, such as someone happily digging their garden, to another person's ultimate fantasy of international stardom, through every twisted alternate reality in between; they're all here.'

Ryan stared into the middle-distance with a vague frown on his metallic face.

'That bull-man said something similar about the place we've just come from. Is that part of here as well?'

'Yes and no. I said 'they're all here', but that is not entirely accurate. You see, for every good, uplifting dream, there must be a bad, unsettling one. It's simple cause and effect really. Without evil there would be nothing to measure good against. Without despair, no hope. Therefore, for every wholesome dream there is a corresponding nightmare. But you will find no nightmares on the Dream Isle. They are confined to the realm that exists beneath us; the flip side of the coin, if you will.'

He began tracing the outline of a mountain in the sand with his finger.

'All your 'good' dreams start here,' he pointed to the mountain top. 'They flow down its side in great rivers, until eventually they run their course and flow out into the vast sea of broken dreams.'

As he said this, he traced a line down the slope to the bottom.

'Now, if you turn the image upside down what do you have?'

Ryan and Daisy both tilted their heads to one side.

'A crater?' suggested Daisy.

'Exactly!' exclaimed Tristram. 'It's like a huge jelly-mould. If you turn it upside down you get the Nightmare Realm, where Ryan and I just came from.'

'So, this sea; it exists in both places?' said Ryan slowly, his mind working overtime.

'Got it in one,' smiled Tristram. 'It is the link between them. As the old dreams sink they are slowly infused through some mechanism that we are yet to fully understand and are given a new lease of life. By the time they reach the surface, they are fully formed dreams again, at which point they leave the sea and follow one of the many rivers leading down into the crater, until finally they reach the lake in the centre.'

He continued tracing the line he had started drawing so that it led back to the 'top' of the mountain which, of course, was now the bottom of the crater.

'It's like a big conveyor belt!' said Daisy with a smile.

Ryan, on the other hand, looked sceptical.

'So you're saying that beneath us is that jungle?'

'It's more likely to be the beach with the dark sands.'

'How far beneath us? Has anyone tried to dig there?'

'It's difficult to say how far,' said Tristram, sitting back and staring up at the mountain in the distance. 'Remember that this is not the physical world as you know it, and hence the same laws do not necessarily apply. You'll have noticed that gravity remains constant in both.'

'Sounds like a bit of a cop-out if you ask me,' said Ryan, still unconvinced. 'You expect me to believe all this just because you say so?'

'Not particularly,' said Tristram, climbing to his feet. 'You're free to make up your own mind. In fact the best thing you can do is to discuss it with your friend here. Between you, you should be able to come to some sort of conclusion.'

'But how do I know that this is not just another dream?' asked Ryan, also standing. 'I've dreamed about her before, as well as you, so why should this be any different?'

'You have?' said Daisy, surprised.

'Yes... err... well; it was a long time ago. But it happened.'

Tristram was walking away now chuckling to himself.

'It'll all become clear Master Butler, trust me.'

Slowly Tristram's body faded into nothing and Ryan, turning to Daisy, found that she, too, was gone. He watched, bewildered, as the sands of the beach turned slowly translucent, and for a moment he fancied that he caught a glimpse of the world beneath him; mirroring the one he was now occupying. But even that image faded and he was left with nothing but a black void surrounding him.

Little by little the familiar shapes of his room appeared and he awoke, scarcely able to comprehend what had just happened.
6

Ryan's preparations for school that morning were even more sluggish than normal. His mind was awash with questions, more about his own sanity than anything he'd been told in his sleep, and he knew who would be waiting for him at the bottom of his drive to tell him that it was all true. He considered feigning illness to avoid having to face Daisy, but decided it was a bad idea since his friends had been round the night before and his mum would be unlikely to let them over again if the result was a 'sick' son.

Having sated his burning hunger, and with a level of reluctance he normally saved for trips to the dentist, he pulled the front door open and peered out towards the gate at the end of the drive. Sure enough, Daisy was there, watching with delight as a blizzard of blossom from the plum trees was whipped around her by the stiff morning breeze. Seeing that the sky was cloudier than it had been earlier in the week, Ryan pulled on his navy blue school blazer and headed out. By the time he had reached his hysterically-excited friend, his hair was thick with pink petals.

'Ryan! Ryan! Isn't it great? I can't believe you made it there too! Tristram said he had a special mission to go on but I didn't realise he meant finding you. It's going to be such fun with you there.'

Ryan closed the gate behind him and began fishing the petals out of his hair.

'What are you on about Dizz?' he asked with a sigh. He'd decided that denial was the best course of action for the time being.

'The Dream Isle. You were there with me last night, remember? Tristram saved you from the Nightmare Realm.'

'Dizz, what are your parents feeding you for you to come up with this stuff?'

Daisy looked taken aback.

'But you were there on the beach with me...'

'Hey, I was on a beach all right and I remember a load of topless girls dancing around. But I can't recall you being one of them.'

'You're disgusting. And why would you make something like that up? Aren't you excited?'

It was the first time that Ryan had ever seen Daisy in anything other than a joyous mood. Coupled with the fact that she had dismissed his lie out of hand, it was rather disarming. He quickly changed tack.

'Dizz listen; we sleep in different rooms in different houses. How could we possibly share the same dream? The whole idea's stupid.'

'And yet it happened,' replied Daisy evenly. 'Just because you can't explain it, doesn't mean that it's impossible. I sometimes struggle to comprehend how a tiny acorn can become a mighty oak tree, but it happens.'

Ryan had never been all that great in an argument, but he was determined to find some rational explanation for what had transpired.

'Okay, so I was there. I remember what happened. But that doesn't mean anything. It's probably just some kind of weird coincidence.'

His admission brought Daisy back to her usual happy self.

'I don't think it's a coincidence,' she said, gazing at the wild flowers in the hedgerow as they walked down the lane. 'We didn't just dream the same thing. We communicated with one another.'

Ryan wasn't ready to give up that easily.

'Well we've been friends, like, forever. Perhaps we've got one of those connections going on. You know, like twins often have, or brothers and sisters who are really close? They can often be thinking the same thing at the same time.'

'But we _spoke_ to one another Ryan.'

'Yeah, but I speak to people in my dreams all the time. Just because we happened to have conversations with one another, doesn't mean we were having the _same_ conversation.'

His argument was getting more and more threadbare by the second, and Ryan's pig-headedness continued to unravel it faster than he could stitch it back together.

'Okay then,' said Daisy smiling. 'Let's see if we both remember it. You staggered out of the sea and I came running towards you shouting 'Ryan! Ryan! Oh my gosh, you made it'.'

She eyed him keenly for any sign of recollection. Clearly Ryan gave something away, for she gave a nod of satisfaction and continued.

'I then gave you a hug and you realised there was something different about me. You said 'Jesus Dizz, I can see through you'. And I replied...'

She gestured for Ryan to finish the sentence. For a moment he glowered at her defiantly, but his tenuous argument had been flattened like a flower beneath a steamroller and he sagged.

'You said 'I know, isn't it great?'. Satisfied?'

'I knew it!' cried Daisy, giving a triumphant pirouette with her hands raised to the sky. 'We actually talked to one another in our sleep. Isn't it incredible?'

Ryan shrugged. He felt like he'd just stepped in the ring with a far superior opponent and been taught a stern lesson. His pride was smarting and he was in no mood to share Daisy's excitement. His friend sensed his annoyance.

'Ryan, what's the matter? I thought you'd be happy. It's like one of the adventures we used to go on when we were younger, except this time it's something really special.'

'Dizz, it's like this; discussing your dreams with people is bad enough. Most people couldn't care less. But this is just plain weird. People would think we're crazy. School is a bad enough place to be without this sort of thing doing the rounds. I've got a reputation to keep up and the last thing I need is to be labelled a weirdo.'

'Oh I won't tell anyone, I promise! It can be our secret. Besides, it's not that bad being a weirdo. It hasn't caused me any problems so far.'

Ryan recalled with a pang of sadness the many names and cruel tricks that had been thrown Daisy's way since they had joined Roughdown School. Whether she had erected some sort of mental barrier, or she was simply oblivious to them, he couldn't guess. But he did not have the heart to remind her. One thing was certain; she was a far stronger person than he was, though he would never admit it. For her to keep such an intensely positive outlook through all the bullying was nothing short of a miracle.

A great part of him had hoped that their dreams were unrelated, so as to avoid any direct connection with her. He had worked hard to attain his position within the school hierarchy and did not want to jeopardise it in any way. But at that very moment, seeing his oldest friend so happy and knowing that it was the connection between them that had made her so, it was impossible for him not to share in it.

'You're right,' he said finally, even managing a small smile. 'It _is_ something special and I'm glad it's happened.'

Daisy looked overjoyed.

'Oh Ryan!'

She threw her arms around him, just as she had done on the beach, and gave him a huge squeeze.

'Okay! Okay! Jeez Dizz, someone might see,' said Ryan pushing her off him, though he couldn't suppress a further smile.

'Whoops! Sorry. We're nearly there aren't we? I'm just so happy.'

'You're always happy.'

'Well, even more so than normal.'

'God help us.'

They went their separate ways and Ryan found Jack and Gibbo waiting for him on the front steps of the main school building.

'All right loser?' said Jack, playfully pushing him when he was within reach. 'Recovered from your pounding last night?'

'Yeah right,' said Ryan. 'You wish you had my gaming skills. Where's Dazza?'

'Skiving,' smirked Gibbo. 'I forwarded that photo of Miss Ward round to everyone and I think someone got busted with it.'

'Or grassed him up,' put in Jack.

'Either way, the whole school now knows and Dazza's bricking it. He's come down with a severe case of man-flu.'

'Have the school rung his folks?' asked Ryan.

'Like it matters,' replied Gibbo. 'They don't give a monkeys what he gets up to. You ever met his mum? Nothing like Ryan's. She's a rough old dear that one; got a different tracksuit for each day of the week.'

'And a different kid to push through the town centre,' laughed Jack. 'You're a moron though Gib. You know we're gonna get some stick from the teachers because of this.'

'Ryan maybe, but not us,' retorted Gibbo.

'Why me?' asked Ryan. 'Dazza took it.'

'You're the one caught ogling her knockers, mate,' said Jack. 'And now everyone knows.'

A terrible sinking feeling began to form in the pit of Ryan's stomach.

'Gibbo you pr...'

At that moment the bell rang for registration and they headed inside.

As the door opened and Mrs Jacobs marched up to her desk to take the morning register, it was clear to Ryan and Jack that she was not in the best of moods. A prim, well-spoken lady in her late forties, she had a fearsome reputation for handing out detentions for the slightest misdemeanour and both boys had felt the sharp end of her tongue during their time at the school.

'What's eating her?' asked Sophie Richards, leaning over and whispering in Jack's ear.

'Ryan's in trouble,' grinned Jack as his friend grew scarlet and slouched down in his chair, in a futile attempt to conceal his presence.

Without any form of greeting Mrs Jacobs began.

'It has been brought to my attention that an incident involving members of this form has resulted in the humiliation of one of our most valued members of staff, not to mention angering many parents, including several of the school governors.'

Some of the students exchanged bemused glances, while others – the boys mostly – tried to conceal smirks.

'I am disgusted by the behaviour of said individuals and, having spoken with the headmistress, we have come to the agreement that in order to prevent such an irresponsible act from occurring again, all mobile phones and other electronic devices shall be confiscated during school hours.'

There were cries of dismay from around the room and several glares were thrown in Ryan's direction.

'I see some of you are already aware of the culprit,' said Mrs Jacobs, seething. 'If you feel that an injustice is being done by punishing all of you, I suggest you make your frustrations known to Mr Butler over there.'

'It wasn't me!' shouted Ryan, exploding from his seat with such violence that Jack, who had been rocking back on two legs of his chair, toppled backwards and was only saved by the presence of a wall behind him. 'I didn't do anything!'

'Sit down Ryan!' said Mrs Jacobs sternly. 'If you raise your voice at me again you'll be in even deeper trouble than you are already.'

'But I didn't do anything,' repeated Ryan in protest.

Mrs Jacobs gave a swift motion with her hand, indicating that Ryan should sit himself down immediately. It was accompanied by a deepening frown.

'So, you are aware of the incident then?' she continued. She made it sound like a question, though clearly it wasn't.

Ryan sat there glowering while every pair of eyes in the room bored into him.

'I take it from your silence that you are,' said Mrs Jacobs bluntly. 'Having seen the image in question, I can completely sympathise with Miss Ward's distress. You should be ashamed of yourself.'

'But I didn't take the picture,' said Ryan sullenly. 'I just happen to be in it.'

'That's not the point and you know it. While I find the taking of such an image repugnant, it's your manner in the photo that I most object to.'

Ryan had had enough of being lectured to in front of the class.

'To be honest, Miss, what do you expect?'

'I beg your pardon?' said Mrs Jacobs, her momentum suddenly lost.

'I'm fourteen years old,' said Ryan, seizing the initiative. 'I bet there ain't a single bloke in this room who hasn't looked at Miss Ward like that. Anyway, she's asking for it with those tops she wears.'

'Ryan I'm warning you, one more word!'

'Nah, I'm done thanks. Screw this school and screw you. I'm out of here!'

And with that he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the room with Mrs Jacobs floundering in his wake, unable to utter a word of protest.

Ryan intended on heading into town for a while, before making his way home via a roundabout route at a time when he could be certain that his mum would be out of the house. However, he had barely made it halfway down the corridor when the diminutive form of Miss Mulligan, the flame-haired headmistress, swept round the corner. A moment later Ryan's heart hit the floor as another figure appeared behind her. It was his mother. With Mrs Jacobs finally making it out of the classroom behind him, Ryan knew the game was up. In a fit of frustration, he drop-kicked his bag against the wall, spilling most of its contents and doing nothing to quell the wrath of the three women bearing down on him.

It was lunchtime, and Ryan and Jack were sitting gloomily on top of a wooden picnic bench beneath the roof of an old, disused bike shed. Jack had also received a dressing-down for being in the photo, despite the fact that he was looking in completely the opposite direction. Ryan had had to suffer the indignity of having three middle-aged women telling him what a disgrace he was, and had received a truckload of detentions for his protests to Mrs Jacobs.

'This is so unfair,' he said ruefully, as the first spots of rain clattered onto the roof, mirroring his dampened spirits.

'Tell me about it,' said Jack. 'I got a rollicking and I wasn't even looking at her! How is that justice?'

'At least you escaped detention. I've got it every night for two whole weeks!'

Ryan put his head in his hands and sighed.

'You know Gibbo's got away with nothing?' muttered Jack.

'He never?' said Ryan incredulously. 'How the hell did he manage that? He was the one who sent the picture round to everyone.'

'Got good mates, I guess,' said Jack with a forlorn smile. 'Mates who don't grass him up.'

'They must be a right pair of morons,' said Ryan, appreciating his friend's sense of irony. 'What does Soph think about it?'

'She thinks you're a dirty mongrel, as always,' grinned Jack. 'But you standing up to Jacobs went down a storm. Kudos to you mate.'

'But everyone's annoyed at having their phones confiscated, so in reality I'm no better off.'

'That's about the shape of it. How was your mum?'

'Not good. Dad's coming home a week tomorrow and she always tries to get me to brush up well for him. She's not happy.'

'So it's no consolation that it's nearly the weekend then?' asked Jack.

Ryan sighed.

'Nope. For the next couple of weeks life is really going to suck.'

'But the look on Mrs Jacobs' face,' said Jack, raising his right fist with a wry smile. 'That'll stay with you forever.'

Ryan raised his fist and knocked it against his friend's. The guy had a point.

Ryan's detention started that afternoon with him writing an apology to Miss Ward for all the distress he had caused her, under the hawk-like watchfulness of Mrs Jacobs. It took him seven attempts before he had one with no mistakes, neat handwriting and all the punctuation in the right place. Just for good measure he was made to do it again.

When he was finally released, he shuffled home in the drizzle; neither wishing to spend a moment longer in school nor relishing the prospect of what awaited him at home. However, he knew he was expected to come straight back so there was only so long he could dawdle for. It therefore came as quite a surprise to find that his mum was out when he got back. There was a note on the fridge explaining her absence. It read:

At David + Jen's.

Food in oven.

Computer confiscated.

V. disappointed in you. x

Ryan didn't know why she'd bothered with the kiss at the bottom. He cast the note aside and headed upstairs immediately. He entered his room to find that his PC and all the games consoles were gone. Well, not gone exactly; his mum had taken every lead from every electrical device in his room, save the bedside lamp and his alarm clock. It was confiscation at its laziest and most cruel. For a while he stared from one incapacitated box to the next, their plastic carcasses stricken and lifeless. It was a depressing sight.

He felt strangely naked and helpless without them. He was used to having the world at his fingertips through the web and his friends a mere message away. Now he felt as though he had regressed back to the Dark Ages and was at a loss to know what to do with himself. Of course, his school notes lay in the bottom of his bag and there was always ample homework to be getting on with, but following his detention he was in no mood to be doing anything remotely related to school.

As his defiant streak kicked in again, he decided to search for the missing leads. He started in his mum's wardrobe; a place he'd known well as a young lad, for it was where she used to keep his Christmas presents. As an eight-year-old he had been caught snooping around in there and from then on the presents had resided elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, the leads were nowhere to be seen.

He had a bit more of a poke around the room, but was reluctant to look too hard for fear of finding anything he might later regret knowing about. When he'd exhausted all reasonable locations in the room, he carefully covered his tracks and headed out onto the landing.

The loft hatch in the ceiling required the use of a metal rod to release it, but, once open, it was quick and easy to get inside via the retractable ladder. The loft was full of boxed up junk that his parents no longer used, as well as a substantial quantity of Ryan's old toys, which he made a mental note to sell online at some point. In addition, there was some old camping gear, a boxful of Christmas decorations and his mum's 'special' crockery which, to Ryan's recollection, had not seen a single meal. There were no leads to be seen.

Ryan sat back on his haunches and thought hard. It was hot up in the roof and he had already worked up quite a sweat, so he gave up on that location and headed back down. A cursory hunt around the rest of the main rooms turned up nothing, so the next port of call was the large double garage at the side of the house. The two buildings were linked by a small utility room, which allowed Ryan access without having to go outside. This was handy, since Daisy's parents' house had an aspect overlooking their garage, and he was not sure whether his mum would be keeping tabs on his movements from next door.

He slipped into the garage and flicked on the lights. The hulking black mass of his parents' 4x4 gleamed beneath the clinical fluorescent tubes. Beyond it was his dad's pride and joy; a fully restored Lotus Seven in British Racing Green. It had seen about as much use as the crockery set upstairs, but the few times Ryan had been taken out in it had been most memorable. His eyes lingered on its petite, taut body for a moment, before he returned to business. He poked around under the work benches at the far end of the room, but was beginning to lose hope. He doubted that even his mum would have bothered going to such lengths to hide his stuff.

He was about to give up completely when his eyes caught a glimpse of something yellow in the off-roader. His heart leapt as he recognised one of the cables from his PC. Peering through the lightly-tinted glass, he saw the dark, snaking shapes of his other leads; the lifelines to his stricken possessions. He tried the door handle but, naturally, the vehicle was locked. That would have been too easy. He thought hard. His mum would have her keys on her. There was a spare set for the car, but his dad normally had them. Except he had taken the little runabout up to the base and that had a different set of keys altogether. He grinned to himself and headed for the small cupboard in the utility room where the spare keys were all kept. Sure enough, the second set for the 4x4 were there.

'Thanks Mum,' said Ryan to himself. 'You'll have to try harder than that to beat me!'

He went back to the car, opened the door and grabbed the bundle of cables. The taste of victory was sweet. The tangle of wires was enormous and it took him a while to gather them all into a shape he could carry in one go. He kicked the door shut and was about to head back upstairs when a thought struck him.

His mum was already upset with him. Rebelling against her punishment so soon after the event would only lead to deeper consequences. Was it worth it for just one more night of entertainment?

_Without a doubt_ , said one part of him.

_But what happens tomorrow?_ asked another.

He thought for a moment, then opened the car door again and carefully laid the pile back down on the seat. Then, selecting only the ones for his PC and leaving the rest behind, he closed the door, locked the car and put the keys back where he had found them. The pile looked as large as it had done before, the only obvious difference being that he'd had to remove the yellow wire. He just had to trust in his mum's lack of observational skills.

Heading back to his bedroom, he was back on the internet in no time and once again felt connected to the outside world. He played a couple of games with the sound down low, so he could hear if the front door went. After a while he grew hungry and headed downstairs, having first unplugged everything and tucked the wires away out of sight.

As his dinner cooked, he sat revelling in his masterful cunning, which had brought him access to music, films, games and the internet. What more could he want?

Not wishing to face his mum at all that evening, he decided to play it safe and headed straight to bed after dinner. After all, the leads would still be there in the morning and his punishment was no longer as bad as it had first appeared. After such an eventful day, he had no trouble drifting off into a sleep that was as far from dreamless as one could possibly imagine.
7

Everything was white. Really, really white. It was as though Ryan was staring at the sun through a blizzard. He squinted, but it didn't really help much. He looked down and saw a pair of shiny metal feet where his own should have been.

_So I'm back here again_ , he thought. _Okay then._ _Why can't I see anything?_

He looked up and found that the outline of a large conical mountain had drawn itself on to the white canvas. As he watched, the image in front of him slowly filled itself with colour, giving it depth and clarity, and before he knew it he was standing on the same stretch of beach where he had met Daisy the previous night. Of course, it wasn't night there – it was brighter than any summer's day – but Ryan was curiously aware that while, in his mind's eye, he was standing on a deserted strip of sand, somewhere in the real world his body lay tucked up in his own bed. It was a quite surreal feeling.

Focusing on the landscape around him again, he was surprised by how truly desolate it looked. He turned and stared out to sea, but there was nothing between him and the horizon except a glistening sheet of turquoise water. Ryan was confused. What was the point in him being here? So what if it was the place where dreams were created? With no-one to talk to and nothing going on, it was more boring than any dream he'd ever had. Where was everyone? Where was Daisy?

Slowly his eyes were drawn back to the huge shape of the mountain dominating the island, and he noticed for the first time a gleaming tower crowning its peak. The sun reflected brightly off its multi-faceted sides, making it hard to get a true idea of its shape.

Suddenly he remembered that Daisy had spoken of a building of some sort that Tristram had taken her to on one of her earlier visits to the isle. She'd said something about others too; people like her who had found their way there. People like Ryan.

It seemed an awfully long way away and the terrain in between was bleak and inhospitable; nothing but rocky slopes covered in scree, with not a flash of green anywhere to be seen. Still, there was little else for him to do, and there didn't appear to be any way for him to leave, save diving into the sea and heading to the Nightmare Realm beneath, so he set out towards the tower. To his right, the mouth of a river opened out, bisecting the beach as it flowed into the sea. Curious about the contents of the water, Ryan headed towards the point where the beach and the river met with the lowest reaches of the mountain.

When he got there it took a while for him to pick out any images within the swift-running waters. He had not had the chance to look too closely into the rivers in the Nightmare Realm, for everything had happened very fast and his mind had been swamped with information. Now, with time on his side and nothing else to distract him, he watched the dreams flow past. It was a weird sensation; peering through rippling windows into other people's minds. There was something strange and voyeurish about it that he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with. Yet at the same time it was intriguing watching so many different tales playing out before his eyes. They ranged from what looked like a family reunion to someone fighting through an eastern European war zone, which was strikingly similar to a level Ryan had fought through himself in one of his computer games. There were romances playing out, sports being won and lost, and adventures ranging from those he'd seen in a million action movies, to some that simply defied description. There was one thing they all shared in common though; for good or bad, all the tales appeared to be coming to an end.

Ryan looked out to where the waters of the river finally flowed out and met the sea. 'The sea of broken dreams' Tristram had called it, and it really was just that; a place where all dreams ended up, spent and useless.

He continued to watch the images flow past as he started making his way up the dreary valley the river had carved into the landscape. It was all very intriguing, but at the same time Ryan felt like an outcast; forced to watch everyone else having a good time through some invisible barrier he did not understand and could not penetrate. He'd had to work hard at school to keep himself out of such a position and he was starting to feel as though he would rather not to have found this place at all.

Suddenly an image caught his eye. It was the merest hint of something familiar that was gone in a second, but it stopped him in his tracks. He had seen something he recognised, but by the time his brain had cottoned on to the fact it had flowed out of sight. He backtracked along the riverbank until he found it again. The image had become trapped in a small eddy and was spinning in slow circles, almost within touching distance. He reached out his hand. It was so close. He could see what it was now and it was a great source of comfort in his desolate surroundings. He wanted to embrace it and be part of it. Before he knew it, he was past the point of no return and was toppling head first into the river.

It was dark on the landing in Ryan's house, but he knew the way downstairs without the need for light. Years of experience had ingrained the exact number of footfalls and the necessary placement of feet.

Turn right. Three steps. Turn left with extra half a step taken whilst grabbing the banister. Now the stairs; fourteen in all. One... Two... It was all so familiar. Five... Six... Ryan liked to think of himself as a Special Forces operative when he walked around the house at night; cat-like and surefooted. Thirteen... Fourteen. And we're down. Now turn right.

Ryan strode off the final stair and landed flat on his face. Bemused, he sat up and rubbed his chin. Perhaps he had miscounted? No way. He'd done it a thousand times. Nevertheless he went back up and counted again. Fifteen stairs. Something was not right.

_It's got to be a dream_ , he thought to himself. The image he had seen in the river was not a way back to the waking world, but a dream set in his own house. What were the chances?

Feeling the need to digest this peculiar turn of events, he padded across to the kitchen and flicked on the lights. He blinked as the room turned from a series of small, red standby lights to being full of colour. He was about to make a beeline for the fridge when he noticed a spider sitting right in the middle of the tiled floor. It was a fair old size, but Ryan had never had a problem with them and he walked over to it.

'Sorry mate,' he said out loud. 'This is no longer your domain.'

He reached out to pick up the small creature, but all of a sudden five or six others appeared, seemingly from out of the body of the original. They all scurried off in different directions and took up stations on the different cabinets and worktops. One even went all the way to the ceiling.

'Don't make me have to catch you all,' said Ryan, and he lunged for the one that had stopped in the centre of the kitchen table.

Just like the first, it split into half a dozen others that scattered from beneath his outstretched hand. He made several further attempts to round them up, but before he knew it the entire kitchen was crawling with arachnids. Ryan stood in the middle of the room and scratched his head. Where had they all come from?

Still, he couldn't just ignore the situation. After all, they were probably lost and looking for somewhere to go.

'You guys need to be outside don't you?' he said, mulling it over. He walked over to the kitchen window and threw it open. None of the spiders moved.

Ryan had a sudden vision of his mum walking into the kitchen and seeing them all there. Unlike him she was not a big fan of spiders and would probably scream the house down. Ryan didn't want that. He'd caused enough trouble already.

'Well, you can't all just stay in here,' he said, trying to shoo some of them towards the opening, but only making the problem worse. He thought hard. What did spiders like?

'Webs,' he declared out loud, and almost immediately a huge silvery web spun itself across the kitchen from cupboard to cooker to door. Still the spiders didn't move, but something inside him told Ryan that he had their attention.

'Okay then,' he said, crouching down and disentangling himself from the web. 'I bet you're all hungry. How about a big juicy...'

All of a sudden a large, succulent bluebottle appeared in the middle of the web, struggling against the sticky fibres and sending small pulsing messages out to all the awaiting arachnids. It did the trick.

Sensing its struggle the spiders swarmed onto the web and towards the hapless fly. In seconds it was lost beneath a writhing pile of bodies and, seizing his chance, Ryan grabbed a saucepan from the counter and scooped them up in one swift movement, trapping them beneath the clear lid.

Peering inside, he was surprised to see just the one spider again, sitting contentedly in the bottom. He walked over to the window, reached out and took the lid off. A moment later the spider crawled out and rappelled down to the ground on a sliver of silk, before scurrying away into the night.

Ryan gave a nod of satisfaction and pulled the window closed again.
8

A moment later Ryan had the strange sensation of being propelled into the air, before landing in a sprawling metallic heap back on the river bank. Spitting out sand, he looked up and realised that he was not in the same spot where he had fallen in; rather he was down at the river's mouth, barely a dozen yards from the seashore.

Suddenly a shadow descended over him and he rolled onto his back just in time to see Tristram coming into land in front of him. His big, black wings were spread wide beneath the glaring sun, with traces of moisture streaming off the sleek feathers. Ryan had to marvel at their immense size. With a span of close to fifteen feet they dwarfed him into insignificance.

Tristram offered out a hand and pulled Ryan to his feet.

'Getting a little practice in?' he smiled.

'Practice?' repeated Ryan.

'Yeah. Seeing how it all works? Trying your hand at a bit of Dreamweaving?'

'Dreamweaving?'

It wasn't generally a habit of Ryan's to repeat what other people said and turn it into a question, but he was struggling to cope with his change in surroundings and the speed at which information was being given to him. It was the only way that he could keep up. Being a robot, or android, or whatever he was, didn't appear to make things any simpler. Perhaps his processors were clogged up with sand and water.

'Dreamweaving is the reason you're here,' said Tristram, leading Ryan back up the river towards the place he had fallen in. 'I mean that in two ways. Firstly, it was through Dreamweaving – that is, manipulating your dreams to achieve a certain outcome – that you arrived here. It is an ability that is only possessed by those able to recognise the limits of the physical world, but whose imaginations are broad enough to explore beyond them. Secondly, it is this gift that will allow you to assist us in our fight to suppress Rasputin and his followers, and allow the world to dream in peace.'

Ryan frowned. Things were still moving far too fast.

'Wait a second, this is all way too confusing,' he said, holding his hands up.

Tristram stopped and smiled at him.

'Tell me about it,' he replied. 'I had the exact same problem when I first came here. Trust me, all will become clear in time.'

'You said that yesterday shortly before buggering off,' said Ryan grumpily. 'How do I know you won't do that again and I'll end up back here tomorrow still none the wiser?'

'Hey, I wasn't the one who buggered off,' laughed Tristram. 'You woke up, my friend.'

There was a dull clunk as Ryan put his head in his hands.

'Okay, whatever,' he said exasperatedly. 'First things first. Why am I a robot? I'm not exactly complaining; it's just weird.'

'All right, all right,' said Tristram, clearly amused by his confusion. 'That sounds like a really good place to start. In fact, I've not properly introduced myself yet, so maybe that would help. My name is Tristram Ainsworth. I'm twenty-nine years old and I'm from Harpenden in Hertfordshire. I work as a graphic designer by day and no, I don't have wings in real life.'

'Harpenden; that's not too far from where I live,' said Ryan, managing a small smile. 'So you're asleep there right now?'

'Comfortably so, in my own bed. Probably snoring my head off, which will please my girlfriend.'

Ryan's smile broadened.

'Listen Ryan, I can't give you the exact reasoning behind it, but in this place a person's appearance is kind of an idealised reflection of their true self. The people you will meet here come in all shapes and sizes, not to mention species, breeds and designs. But there's a lot more to it than having some cool new body to show off. The link between this place and your subconscious creates an appearance that is somewhere between who you think you are and who you actually are. That can make it difficult to conceal any unsavoury character traits. Here people can tell a lot about you before you even open your mouth, though how much of it is down to your own personal view of yourself depends on the individual.

'You, for example, would appear to have an arrogant boyish streak that is typical of someone your age. Your avatar projects an external resilience, which is probably aimed at making you look like a tough nut. Having not met you in real life, it would be hard for me to say whether or not it's a complete façade. There may be strength in you, but it could be emotional rather than physical.'

Ryan shrugged nonchalantly, although he was actually feeling quite unmanned by Tristram's strangely accurate description of him.

'I imagine you're a fan of computer games?' continued the winged man.

The boy nodded.

'So, if you were creating your own character in a game, how would it generally turn out?'

'Well, usually they are big and tough with lots of tattoos, scars and spikes all over them. Oh, and I usually go for big weapons.'

'Big weapons?' repeated Tristram, raising his eyebrows.

'The bigger the better.'

'That makes a lot of sense. You see, your avatar here is not a million miles away from that. While it is not an over-the-top caricature, and appears to be sadly lacking in big weapons, it retains the same sturdy image you try to portray in your games.'

Ryan flexed his metal knuckles and balled his hands into fists. It made a bit of sense, though why he didn't just look like himself remained unclear.

'So what are you supposed to be? Some kind of pilot wannabe?' he asked, peering round at Tristram's folded wings.

The man laughed loudly.

'Not exactly,' he smiled. 'Although there may be some truth to it. I studied aeronautical engineering at university, so there is a connection.'

'What then? An angel?'

'Closer. I see myself as being more of a guardian; someone trustworthy who people can depend on and look to for support. It's something inherent to my role here and it certainly helps with first impressions.'

'Not with me,' said Ryan. 'I didn't trust you one bit.'

'To be fair, I'm not used to welcoming newcomers in the Nightmare Realm. Your case was a bit of an exception. I had a much smoother time inducting your friend.'

'Daisy? She probably just fancied you,' said Ryan bluntly. 'Though I don't know that she's shown much interest in boys so far.'

'Well, I don't know anything about that,' said Tristram. 'She just seems happy to accept what is put before her with very little need for explanation.'

'She's always been like that; open to anything.'

'It's a great trait to have, although there is also nothing wrong with questioning that which defies logic and reason. It is the desire to understand things and expand one's scope of knowledge that makes the mind strong. It is the ability to imagine the unimaginable and accept the unacceptable that makes it broad.'

'Yeah, yeah, that's all good,' said Ryan, feeling that Tristram was starting to ramble. 'So you said I got here by Dreamweaving, or something. What is that exactly?'

'As I alluded to earlier, Dreamweaving is the art of manipulating dreams to your own ends. Remember when I jumped off that cliff and you decided it would be such a cool idea for you to do the same?'

'That was you?'

'Are you surprised? I was in your previous two dreams as well.'

'I guess not.'

'Anyway, when you were in that deep, dark water with the currents threatening to dash you against the rocks, what happened?'

Ryan did his best to recall the dream.

'I just seemed to be able to swim out of trouble. I don't know how it happened.'

'Well, in simple terms, you imagined what you wanted to do and then believed in it enough to make it happen. You knew that you needed to get to the surface and you conjured up a way of doing so. Had you not managed to you would have been pinned to the rock, which is what would have happened to anyone who didn't possess your gift. Then, just as you would have been ready to give in and die, you would have awoken and it would have seemed like any other nightmare. Through your own intervention you managed to change the course of the dream. Do you understand?'

'I think so,' said Ryan slowly. 'So just now, when I was back at home and the spiders were multiplying like crazy...'

'... You could have just given up and left them to it.'

'But instead I came up with a way of catching them and changed the dream.'

'Spot on!' said Tristram. 'I think we're getting somewhere now.'

'So basically, I can control the outcome of my dreams?'

'Basically, yes. Although your gift is raw and untamed at this stage, so you will struggle to make absolutely anything happen. In time though, you will learn to master the art.'

Ryan laughed.

'You sound like some old Chinese monk; 'You must learn the way of the Dreamweaver, Ryan-san'.'

Tristram chuckled at his impression.

'I suppose I do. Indeed, my role here is as a mentor to newcomers.'

'Your role?'

'There is a great deal more going on here than it may appear. There is a whole society that has been set up to regulate what goes on in people's dreams. But I'm really over-stepping the bounds of my remit. Answers to all your questions may be found up there at the Spire.'

'Where the other Dreamweavers live?' asked Ryan.

'Not live. Work, more like, though don't let that put you off. No-one can sleep forever. Well, having said that... No, best to leave it at that. You're expected up there so we should get going.'

'It looks a long way,' said Ryan as they started walking again.

'Nothing your legs can't handle I'm sure. You're a machine now!'

He was right. Ryan felt absolutely no sign of fatigue as they climbed the twisting valley that wove its way ever upward towards the Spire. His legs just kept pumping away relentlessly and he appeared to have no need to draw breath, though he still went through the motions out of subconscious habit.

'Where's Daisy?' he asked suddenly, realising he had been on the island for quite a while without being mobbed by her.

'I sent her on ahead to make herself known and to get ready for the group induction,' replied Tristram, who was sweating slightly in the bright sunlight. 'You'll be going along to it as well, so you will see her soon.'

'Oh right. Induction into what?'

'All in good time. You know, you're lucky to have such a close friend in this place. Dreamweaving is a rare ability and it is uncommon to find two people in the same town with it, let alone the same village.'

'She told you we're neighbours?'

'Among other things. I think she was quite excited about it all and just started babbling. She seems to think a lot of you.'

'Well, we grew up together and are still quite close.'

'That's good. You look like you complement one another quite well. You'll make an excellent team.'

Ryan stopped.

'Team? Hey, what is this? What the hell are you getting me into?'

Tristram laughed out loud.

'Oh boy, you've got so many surprises in store. Trust me, you're going to love this place.'

Ryan eyed Tristram's back suspiciously as he carried on walking, but there was a growing sense of excitement inside him that compelled his legs to keep moving. They had just rounded a shoulder of land that had been obscuring the Spire from view, when suddenly the body of a large animal came flying out of the river and landed with a clatter of hooves on the slope to their left. It scrabbled for grip on the loose rock and began sliding back down towards them.

'Whoa, whoa, easy there,' said Tristram, rushing to its aid. By the time he had reached it, it had given up and slithered to the bottom of the slope in a forlorn heap.

At first glance Ryan had assumed it was a horse, though he'd never seen one with such a brilliant silvery-white coat before. However, as he walked over and looked at its bowed head, he saw a long, straight horn crowning its brow.

'A unicorn?' he said, fully aware that he was stating the obvious.

'All species and breeds, remember?' replied Tristram, kneeling down next to the startled animal and stroking its silver mane. 'You all right there?' he asked kindly.

'I think so,' replied the unicorn. The voice was female and strangely familiar. 'Are you an angel?'

'No,' smiled Tristram. 'But I am a friend. Can you stand?'

'I think so,' replied the unicorn. Then she made a decidedly odd movement; sitting back on her haunches and putting one of her forelegs behind her, as if she was trying to push herself up onto her hind legs.

'Hey, hey, hang on a second,' said Tristram as the animal collapsed in a rather ungainly manner. 'Your body is not laid out in quite the same way as in the real world.'

'What?' asked the unicorn, looking confused and rather scared.

'I mean, you are no longer a biped. Ryan?'

He motioned for the boy to come over. The unicorn recoiled slightly at the sight of him.

'Easy, he's a friend too,' said Tristram. 'Show her what she looks like, lad.'

Ryan held up one of his forearms, which was almost a mirror finish. The unicorn peered nervously into it before recoiling with a startled cry.

'What the hell?' she shouted, again trying to scramble to her feet but failing in the attempt.

'Shh shh shh, easy,' said Tristram, reaching forward and trying to calm her down. 'Let's start from the top. My name's Tristram and this is Ryan. We're here to help you. What's your name?'

The unicorn looked from one to the other with an expression of utter bewilderment on her face.

'Sophie. Sophie Richards,' she said.

Ryan's jaw dropped.

'No way! Sophie? It's me, Ryan. Ryan Butler.'

The unicorn looked even more confused.

'Ryan? Is that really you there? What on earth's going on?'

'I thought I recognised your voice,' he replied, smiling broadly and feeling a great urge to rush forward and give her a hug.

'Hang on a second,' said Tristram, who for the first time since Ryan had met him was looking confused himself. 'You know her too?'

'We go to school together,' said Ryan.

'This is weird,' said Tristram.

'Tell me about it!' said Sophie. 'Why am I a horse?'

'No, I mean it's weird that Ryan here knows more than one person on this island.'

' _That's_ what's weird?' said Ryan sceptically. If he'd had any eyebrows they would have most certainly been raised.

'Will one of you please tell me what's going on?' cried Sophie.

'Okay, Okay,' said Tristram. 'We'll start back at the beginning. But first, let's get you on your feet. It may feel a little weird to start with, but it'll soon become second nature.'

With Ryan's assistance he helped Sophie shakily to her feet. She peered down at her hooves and frowned.

'Ugh, my legs are horrible,' she said.

'Not as bad as your nose,' smirked Ryan.

'What? What's wrong with it?'

'Nothing Soph, it's fine.'

'No Ryan, show me!'

Ryan rolled his eyes and offered her his shiny forearm again. Sophie peered at her reflection and made a couple of small movements with her head. Ryan had seen his mum do the same thing many times before going out.

'Hmm, it's a bit big isn't it?' said Sophie, continuing to check herself out. 'Hang on. What on earth is that on my forehea... oh.'

'You're not a horse, Soph,' said Ryan.

'Oh. I'm a unic...oh. Am I really? How exciting!'

Apparently the horn made all the difference.

'Okay, I think we ought to get a move on,' said Tristram.

'Where are we going?' asked Sophie.

'Up there,' replied Tristram, pointing to the Spire. It was still some distance away. 'I'll explain everything as we go.'

So Ryan was treated to a second explanation of the workings of the Dream Isle, as Tristram brought Sophie up to speed. Within a short distance she was happily trotting beside them as if she had walked on all fours her whole life. She was also remarkably receptive to everything Tristram told her, asking few questions and showing none of the suspicion that Ryan had. Again, Ryan thought that this might be down to Tristram himself and wondered why his robotic form did not come with broad shoulders and a six-pack.

'So I'm a unicorn because that's what I'd choose to be if I could be anything in the world?' Sophie asked when Tristram had finished.

'Pretty much. A lot of it is down to your personality and how you outwardly express yourself.'

'So Ryan's ideal self is a short, fat robot?' she asked.

'Oi!' replied Ryan. He had been doing his best to keep away from Tristram to avoid any direct comparison of their stature.

'Your avatar reflects your physical state as well,' said Tristram. 'Having never met Ryan I don't know what sort of shape he's in, but I could guess.'

'And you'd be right,' said Sophie, her eyes growing wider and glazing slightly. 'So aside from the wings you look like that in real life?' she added hopefully.

'Oh here we go,' said Ryan, kicking at a nearby rock.

Tristram merely laughed and Sophie appeared to blush. There was an awkward pause.

'I'm not _that_ fat,' said Ryan eventually, glaring at the two of them.

'It wasn't me who said it,' smiled Tristram. 'Besides, you won't always look like that.'

'You mean that your avatar can change?' asked Sophie.

'Absolutely,' replied Tristram. 'People change in physical appearance, personality and outlook on life, so it makes sense that your avatar would change to reflect that.'

'There you go, there's hope for you yet,' said Sophie.

'Get lost,' said Ryan sulkily.

The river led them up for a mile or so longer before they rounded a final bend and were faced with a most astonishing sight. The outer wall of the Spire towered over them; sheer, smooth and seemingly constructed from a single piece of white marble. From a broad aperture about halfway up the river poured, tumbling in a sparkling cascade down into a pool several metres from the base of the wall. From there it began its winding journey through the vale they had just climbed. Far below them it eventually met with the sea, which was now a distant ring of blue.

Beyond the wall rose the main body of the Spire, its smooth, glassy sides climbing high into the sky where they passed through what looked like a large, multi-sided doughnut, before tapering into a gleaming spike. The entire building was made from a multitude of geometric shapes, with no curves whatsoever. Many of the surfaces were reflecting the sunlight so brightly that it was hard to look at it for very long.

'How do we get in?' asked Sophie.

'Well, I could always fly you over, but that would be cheating,' said Tristram. 'The entrance is round the other side. Follow me.'

Ryan followed the winged man, with Sophie trotting beside him, as they were led underneath the cascading waters and round the first corner. Ahead lay another side of the wall, which also had a stream of water pouring from an opening high above them. They passed under it, and as they rounded the next corner they figured from the position of their shadows that they had turned through a total of ninety degrees, which led Ryan to conclude that the tower was eight-sided.

_Just like the one in the Nightmare Realm_ , he thought.

They had just walked under yet another cascade – which, like the others, formed a small pool a short distance from the wall before heading off down the mountainside – when a figure appeared from round the next corner. It was a real mountain of a man, with dark skin, broad shoulders and a head that appeared clean-shaven from the front, but on closer inspection had a long, plaited ponytail protruding from the back.

Tristram raised an open palm to greet him and, as the man returned the gesture, Ryan and Sophie noticed that instead of hands he had large pincers, rather like those of a crab.

'Greetings Ainsworth,' he said to Tristram, in a voice that crackled and rumbled like an electric storm. 'New recruits?'

He eyed Sophie and Ryan keenly.

'Absolutely,' replied Tristram, gesturing for the two of them to step forward. 'Ryan, Sophie, meet Mr Ulysses Rockwell. He is the vice chancellor of this facility and an expert in Physical Evolution.'

Rockwell gave them a curt nod.

'You're just in time,' he said. 'Head straight in and Madame Birchwood will see to you.'

Then, without further word, he strode past them and dived into the pool at the foot of the waterfall.

'Busy man, him,' said Tristram. 'Splits his time between teaching and patrolling. Generally he likes to work alone, but he's a good tutor when he's in the mood.'

'This is all starting to sound a lot like school,' said Ryan, staring at the pool of water into which Rockwell had vanished.

'That's very true,' replied Tristram. 'But trust me, this isn't like any school you've ever been to. You're going to be begging to come back here to learn more. Follow me.'

Ryan gave Sophie a dubious glance, but she merely swished her tail and headed after Tristram. They were just rounding the next corner when a voice called out from above them.

'Hey! Tristram!'

They all looked up and saw the face of a young woman beaming down at them. She had fair skin and long, bright green hair. Everything else about her was concealed behind the wall.

Tristram smiled.

'Just a second,' he said to Ryan and Sophie. Then he launched himself into the air and with a few beats of his huge wings he was level with the woman.

They appeared to share a joke, to which Sophie snorted and pawed at the ground with her hoof.

'You're really getting into this horse thing,' Ryan remarked.

'Shut up,' she replied, and she turned to stare out at the beautiful vista behind them.

The mountain was conical, with deep furrows carved into its flanks by the rivers that issued from the Spire. Some of them split and followed multiple courses down to the sea, while others stayed as one, cutting deep ravines where the water disappeared from sight, only to reappear further down where the land flattened out. Not a single plant could be seen growing on the slopes, but as the two of them gazed at the landscape they began to catch sight of people moving through it; some alone, others in small groups.

There was a thud behind them as Tristram touched down.

'Sorry about that,' he said. 'Old friend I haven't seen for a while.'

They rounded the next corner and arrived at the main gate. Here the waters of another river had been split in two and channelled so that it cascaded down either side of two massive marble doors. Standing between them was like looking out of a window with sparkling curtains drawn back on either side of it. They paused for a moment to soak in the spectacular view, before Tristram ushered them through.

They arrived in a courtyard that encircled the Spire. It was arranged in a series of shallow terraces, which followed the contours of the mountain and were bisected by a slope leading directly from the gate to a pair of towering glass doors at the front of the building. Overhead was a walkway leading from a balcony not far from the base of the Spire, which traced the path of two glass channels that issued from its side, carrying the waters of the river. Like spokes of a wheel, similar walkways projected from the Spire to the outer wall in each of the other octants.

Close to the gate the ground was worn smooth, and it was easy to see why. Over a hundred people were milling around outside the Spire, though the word 'people', Ryan decided, didn't really do the scene justice. While he was aware that each one was the avatar of a sleeping human being, the sheer diversity was simply mind-boggling. There were mythical creatures, bio-mechanical creations, spirits, beasts and everything in between. Bipeds, quadrupeds and those with more than their God-given amount of limbs were all there. It was truly the most bizarre thing Ryan had ever seen.

'It looks like the love child a sci-fi and a fantasy convention,' he said.

'You should fit in just fine then, tin man,' smiled Tristram. 'Many of those you see here are newcomers like yourselves.'

'Looks like a bunch of geeks all dressed up,' scoffed Ryan.

'I can assure you that you look no better,' said Tristram sternly.

Slowly they made their way up the terraces, the overhead walkway casting a broad shadow across them, which came as a welcome reprieve after so long spent in the sun. Ryan noticed that a lot of the people hanging around were looking skywards. He followed their gazes up the steep sides of the Spire to where eight transparent walkways led out to an octagonal observation ring.

'That would make me feel sick,' said Sophie, noticing what he was looking at.

'I wouldn't come up there with me then,' said Ryan. 'I'd be jumping up and down on that floor.'

'You'd better not,' she replied.

'Ryan! Ryan!'

Daisy's voice was unmistakable as she hurried through the crowd towards them. With all the time he had spent in Sophie's company Ryan had completely forgotten about her. His companion looked startled as Daisy appeared in front of them and she threw Ryan a quizzical glance.

'Oh, hey Dizz,' he said awkwardly. He hadn't really toyed with the idea of being in the same place as both Sophie and Daisy and was having to think fast.

'Oh my gosh you found a unicorn!' said Daisy, clasping her hands together with joy.

Sophie scowled as well as she could with her new face.

'What's she doing here?' she asked.

'She's... err... like us,' stuttered Ryan. He could see his hard-earned school reputation going quickly down the pan.

'Oh Sophie, is that you?' asked Daisy, recognising her voice.

'Yes,' said Sophie flatly. 'You were right Ryan; this place _is_ full of weirdos.'

Daisy's smile didn't crack so much as a millimetre at her words.

'It's so funny that you are here too,' she continued. 'Guess who I bumped into just now?'

If Sophie hadn't been a quadruped she would have shrugged. Instead, she just stared back blankly. Suddenly she and Ryan noticed a creature slink its way out of the crowd behind Daisy. In actual fact they were looking straight _through_ her, but it didn't register with either of them. The creature was a young snow leopard, which padded round and sat down in front of them.

'All right idiot?' it said, addressing Sophie.

Her jaw dropped, as did Ryan's. The last thing either of them expected was to meet another person they knew.

'Bambi? Is that you?' asked Ryan.

'It's Billy. Or William to you,' said Billy Richards. 'And what are you supposed to be? The tin man's ugly sister?'

'And I was just starting to enjoy this place,' said Sophie miserably.

'Excuse me a second, can I interrupt?'

It was Tristram, who had been watching their meeting with keen interest. The four of them turned to face him.

'Who's this?' asked Billy, his teeth bared ever so slightly.

'Tristram Ainsworth,' said Tristram, offering his hand.

Billy looked at it, then at his paw.

'I'd not sure that's really going to work, is it?' he sneered.

'Suit yourself,' replied Tristram, brushing off Billy's cold greeting. 'Listen, I'm curious; do all four of you know one another?'

'Of course!' said Daisy gleefully. 'We all go to school together.'

The others exchanged dubious glances.

'That's my idiot brother,' said Sophie, nodding at Billy.

'And that's my charming sister,' replied Billy, licking one of his paws, before realising what he was doing and screwing up his face in disgust. 'You'd never have thought we shared the same womb.'

'Twins eh?' said Tristram, raising his eyebrows.

'In blood only,' said Billy.

Sophie snorted and glared at him.

'And you're all in the same year group?' pressed Tristram.

Ryan nodded.

'Well, this is most unusual. You don't know how fortunate you guys are. It is a rare thing for anyone to know another Dreamweaver in real life. For you all to be so well acquainted is unprecedented.

'Unfortunate more like,' said Sophie.

'Will you shut it horse-face?' said Billy. 'Now, about this Dreamweaving lark. What's it all about? It had better be worth it.'

'Ah!' said Tristram. 'I think you're about to find out.'

He pointed to an old woman who had just come out of the main entrance to the Spire. She was dressed in green robes and appeared to have a mass of leaves sticking out of her scraggly hair. It was only when she raised her hands for silence that they realised she was a good deal more tree-like than it first appeared. Her long, spindly fingers had small buds growing on them and her skin had a silvery sheen that was broken in places by black lines and knots.

'Ladies and gentlemen,' she said, her voice creaking but carrying well across the silent crowd. 'My name is Rubina Birchwood and I would like to welcome you all to the Dreaming Spire. It appears that Vice-Chancellor Rockwell may be a while longer, so we had best go inside and get started. Those of you that are newcomers, follow me. As for the rest of you; I'm sure, have places you need to be.'

Nearly fifty of the gathered avatars exchanged nervous glances before following her inside. The remainder lingered, watching them go.

'Off you go then,' said Tristram chirpily. 'Madame Birchwood will help you get settled in. I'll catch up with you all later.'

Ryan leaned over to Daisy.

'I think we'd best keep these two apart,' he whispered.

'Okay,' she smiled, and drifted up the terraces towards Billy, who had already started heading for the glass doors.

'They make a good pair those two,' said Sophie, glaring after them.

'Yeah,' chuckled Ryan nervously. 'Pair of morons.'

They climbed up the last couple of steps and went inside.

The ground floor of the Spire was encircled by a broad walkway with a high ceiling, with glass walls on the outside and doors leading to the outer terraces at intervals. Like all of the Spire they had seen thus far, there were no curved edges, rather the design followed the octagonal theme they had observed earlier. They turned the first corner as they headed clockwise round the tower, then followed the group up a flight of stairs and arrived on another airy corridor.

On this first floor there were doors on the inside wall, as opposed to the bare stone that prevailed on the level below. There was colour too, with each octant themed with a different shade; from red, through orange and yellow to green, then on into blues and finally magenta.

In the yellow octant they headed up another flight of glass stairs, which brought them level with the balcony that led, via the series of walkways they had seen, to the outer wall. They went up one more level and then were ushered through a doorway, into the heart of the Spire.

They entered a cavernous room shaped like an old Greek amphitheatre, with rows of seats of all shapes and sizes leading down to a stage at the bottom, upon which a lectern had been placed. The seats appeared to have been shaped out of the same rock that prevailed throughout the island. In the dark ceiling sweeping bands of lights were set, illuminating each seat individually. Ryan tried to find one without a light on it, but failed; clearly this was no place to be falling asleep in class. He found a space next to a low, carved piece of rock, which proved ideal for Sophie to sit back on her haunches and get comfortable.

Across the lecture theatre it seemed that everyone, no matter what species, had managed to find a spot that just suited them. The room was barely a tenth full and everyone was spread out, so Madame Birchwood had to cast her gaze around to address them all from behind the lectern.

'Once again, I would like to welcome you all to the Dreaming Spire. No doubt you are all brimming with questions, but rest assured that everything will soon become clear. Each of you possesses a gift that has allowed you to find this place, so I want you to know that you are among equals here and have an exciting time ahead of you.'

Ryan felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned to his right to see a boy slightly younger than him who, instead of arms, had four long tentacles protruding from each shoulder. He had no legs either, and appeared to hover gently a foot or so above the ground, as if suspended on invisible strings.

The boy offered him a tentacle, which Ryan shook gingerly before subconsciously wiping his hand on his metal leg.

'Micky Wallace,' whispered the boy in a thick Scouse accent.

'Ryan Butler,' said Ryan, looking back down at Madame Birchwood, who was still rambling through her introduction.

'Cool avatar,' said Micky.

'Err... thanks,' replied Ryan, thinking that if he had been stuck as a hovering human-octopus crossbreed he would have thought the same.

'I'm still getting used to mine,' Micky continued. 'I was a bit disappointed at first, but then I discovered I could do this.'

He reached out in both directions and simultaneously tapped the shoulders of four people in front of them. They looked at one another bemusedly while Micky pretended nothing had happened.

'Cool eh?' he whispered, giving Ryan a sly wink.

At that moment, the door to the lecture theatre opened and in strode Ulysses Rockwell, closely followed by a rather frightened-looking gazelle.

'Ah, Vice-Chancellor, perfect timing as always,' said Madame Birchwood, the bark on her face creasing into a smile.

'My apologies for being late,' replied Rockwell. 'It took a little while to coax this one up the hill.'

The gazelle next to him trembled under the weight of several dozen stares. He ushered it to a seat and then made his way down to the lectern. Every eye in the room followed him, many fixed on his enormous claws, which looked like they could probably shear a horse in half. Ryan glanced at Sophie and was hoping she wasn't thinking the same thing.

As Madame Birchwood retreated to the back of the stage, a deathly hush fell across the assembled newcomers. They knew that their answers were coming.

'Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,' boomed Rockwell suddenly. 'Beasts, birds and extra-terrestrial beings. Robots, androids, mechanised creatures all. Spirits, elementals, plant-folk and the weird and wonderful offspring of everything in between – in which category I include myself,' he clicked his claws loudly, which brought a smattering of laughter from his audience. 'Welcome! Welcome to you all! This is the place where dreams are made, and it is our job to make them the best they can possibly be. Here at the Academy we look after the dreams of our countrymen, making sure that those who would seek to disrupt them fail in the attempt.

'Make no mistake my friends; the sleeping world you enter every time you settle down into your beds is just as dangerous as that of the waking, and while people such as yourselves have the capacity – although perhaps not yet the ability – to defend yourselves, there are millions of others on earth who are vulnerable when they are asleep. Presidents, business tycoons, religious leaders and celebrities; some of the richest and most powerful people on the planet, all rendered weak and helpless the moment they close their eyes at night. This is because they lack the wild imaginations that we are all blessed with. It is our job to protect such people from those who would wish to take advantage of their vulnerability.

'And mark my words, such people exist; people very much like us, but who have taken their gift and chosen to misuse it. They seek to harass the weak-minded; to twist their dreams and corrupt their thoughts to further their own wicked ends, be they political, financial or even terrorism.

'We need you all to help us to stand up to the ever-growing challenge faced by the Academy; to foil these people and ensure that balance is maintained throughout this realm and the one beneath. We will train you to use your gifts – your own limitless imaginations – to make anything and everything happen, from manipulating the world around you, to creating something out of nothing. You will share adventures, experience new sensations and see things that most people could never and will never dream of. Again I say welcome. We are the Academy. Your future awaits.'

He stepped back from the lectern and immediately a flurry of conversation and excitement swept around the amphitheatre. Ryan gave Sophie a dubious glance that she returned blankly. Down on the stage Madame Birchwood had returned to the lectern and was gesturing for silence.

'You will be divided into groups in which you will learn to develop and use your abilities. As you progress, you will be assigned practical tasks that will further your learning and also aid the cause of the Academy. I will now read out names, and when yours comes up please make your way down to the front and I will assign you to a tutor.'

Four people got up from seats at the side of the stage and joined her. One was a woman dressed in pirate garb, while another was a donkey whose feet clattered noisily as it trotted across the stage. The third was an enormous herbivorous dinosaur that somehow Ryan had failed to notice up until that point. The fourth person was Tristram.

As Madame Birchwood prepared to run down her list, Rockwell strode forwards again and whispered in her ear.

'I understand that several of you are acquainted with one another in the waking world,' she said, addressing the room. Ryan's heart began to sink. 'As such an occurrence is unprecedented we have decided to keep you together to see whether your friendship aids your learning. Would you all please come down to the front.'

'Great,' said Sophie. 'Just what I wanted; Billy Richards in my group.'

'You really don't like him do you?' said Ryan, getting reluctantly to his feet.

'He just does my head in,' replied Sophie, following him down the stairs. 'Always has done.'

They reached the stage at the same time as Daisy and Billy arrived from the other side. The motley assortment of figures on the stage peered down at them. Tristram gave Ryan a wink.

'An interesting mix,' said Rockwell thoughtfully. 'I'll be watching your progress keenly. I hear that you are already acquainted with Mr Ainsworth. You'll be glad to hear that he will be looking after you for the time being. He is more than just a pretty face and you will learn a lot from him. Welcome.'

The four kids looked at one another with expressions ranging from utter joy to total apathy. Daisy smiled and leapt up on stage next to Tristram. The others reluctantly followed her example.

Madame Birchwood stepped forward again and lifted up a ream of paper.

'Joseph Ajomo!' she called.

A dark-skinned boy with the legs of a zebra rose to his feet and strode confidently down the stairs. Madame Birchwood appraised him as he approached.

'Very good Mr Ajomo. Please join Miss van Arnen on stage.'

Joseph suddenly looked uncertain. Madame Birchwood smiled.

'It's okay young man. You can't miss her.'

She nodded in the direction of the huge dinosaur, who peered down at the boy with a broad smile. Ryan looked at the scene and tried to convince himself he was not going bonkers. Joseph climbed onto the stage and stood next to the dinosaur, whose knee was at the same height as his head.

'Stelios Aragounis,' called Madame Birchwood.

A tall lad dressed like a Trojan warrior stood up and made his way down towards them.

'Right, we'll stick you with Captain Ancona,' said Madame Birchwood, indicating the pirate woman.

'Zheng Li Cheung.'

Down came a robotic praying mantis. Madame Birchwood raised her eyebrows.

'Well, that's the first one of those we've had,' she said, looking over her shoulder at Rockwell. 'I think Captain Ancona should deal with you too.'

The mantis scuttled onto the stage next to the pirate.

'Helena Dimitov.'

A girl whose body appeared to be made entirely of water rose and flowed her way down to the front.

'Ah, an elemental,' smiled Madame Birchwood. 'Dr Chebinski will be happy. Won't you doctor?'

'Most certainly,' said the donkey in a thick Russian accent. 'A most interesting specimen.'

And so it continued, until the last of the newcomers had been called down and assigned a tutor. The groups were roughly even in number, with a mixture of avatar types in each. Madame Birchwood had taken a group of her own.

When they were done, Rockwell took a step down from the stage and turned to face them all.

'We live in interesting times,' he said. 'I'm relying on each of you to fulfil your potential. Don't let me down.'

And with that, he made his way up the stairs and left the amphitheatre.

'Well then,' said Tristram, turning to his group. 'Best get started hadn't we? Let's find somewhere to sit down and I'll answer any of your remaining questions.'

He ushered them up the stairs and out of the room. They followed him down one level and out onto the balcony, where they were once again able to appreciate the phenomenal view out across the island. Tristram took them to one side and perched himself on a railing, while the others gathered round him. In their group was a fairy and a boy with the head of a goat and mechanical legs much like Ryan's. There was also a cowboy, a girl made entirely of stone, a bird shaped like an eagle but coloured like a scarlet macaw, and a lad whose skin appeared to change hue to match his surroundings.

Tristram smiled broadly at them all. Clearly there were no real surprises in the group.

'I thought I'd bring you out here as it's much more pleasant than the stuffy classrooms across the way. You'll see people coming and going but it should be pretty quiet. Everyone comfortable?'

The group had seated themselves in a semicircle round him and they all nodded, although the sun was in their eyes and many of them had to squint to look at him. Tristram spread his wings out to shield them from its glare.

'Okay, for those of you who haven't met me before, my name is Tristram Ainsworth and I'm an Inductor here at the Academy. My job is to familiarise you all with this place and teach you the basics of becoming a Dreamweaver. Now, do you all understand why you're here?'

'Because we have good imaginations, no?' offered the goat-headed boy, who sounded French.

'Well, that's how you came to be here, yes, but do you all understand why you've been brought to the Academy?'

'To fight some nasty army who are invading people's minds,' said Billy flatly.

'A bit crude, but in essence that is correct. Here at the Academy our resources are stretched and we are in need of new recruits to aid in our work. Now, does anyone have a problem with that in principle?'

The kids looked at one another to see who would speak up. Eventually it was the eagle who asked the question that was on most of their lips.

'Will it be dangerous?' came the female voice. An Irish lilt was clear, despite the beak.

'Maybe,' said Tristram openly. 'Less so at first, but as you progress the challenges will increase. However, we will always endeavour to only put you in situations that are comfortably within your limits.'

'Hang on a minute,' put in Billy. 'We're lying safe and sound in our beds. This place doesn't really exist. What could possibly happen to us?'

'What indeed?' replied Tristram, eyeing Billy carefully. 'It is a common misconception that dreams are something detached from the body; something the mind conjures up to keep itself amused while the body is resting. They are not. How often have you heard the phrase 'Died peacefully in their sleep'?'

Blank faces all round.

'Believe me, death while sleeping is anything but peaceful. It is a result of extreme stress on the mind, which eventually has no choice but to succumb. And of course, without the mind the body is useless.'

'So if you die in a dream you die in real life?' asked the goat-boy.

'Think about it,' said Tristram. 'How many times have you come close to death in a dream and then all of a sudden woken up? Probably more than just a handful. The mind is programmed to instinctively react to such situations and rouse the body from its slumber. However, if the mind can be tricked into thinking everything is okay it can fail to rouse the body in time.'

'Sounds a bit far fetched to me,' said Billy.

'As does a winged man talking to a leopard, a robotic goat and a girl made of rock,' replied Tristram evenly. 'Look, I know there's a lot to take in here and no easy way to prove any of it. I would be grateful if you could just trust me on this and hopefully things will become clear in time.'

Billy gave the briefest of nods but said nothing.

'Good. Now, I take it that since no-one has disappeared from our midst that none of you object to me continuing. Let's start from the beginning shall we? This place, as far as we can tell, has existed in some form or another since the dawn of mankind. We do not know when the first Dreamweavers discovered it, but history would suggest it was when the first full-blown civilisations began to spring up. The feats achieved by those such as the ancient Egyptians are remarkable even by today's standards, and would certainly have required a visionary imagination to accomplish; one that would be more than capable of reaching this place. Incidentally, this theory can be expanded further to suggest where such civilisations took the forms of some of their deities. The Egyptian gods Thoth, Anubis, Ra and more all take on a human-animal form in the hieroglyphics we can see to this day. It is possible that these were inspired by some of the earliest avatars.

'Anyway, how much they knew of their gift, and what they did with it, remains a mystery. Back then Dreamweavers were few and far between – even more so than nowadays – and spread out across the entire globe. It was not until the turn of the last century, when methods of worldwide communication were beginning to improve, that Dreamweavers began to meet in real life and discuss their gifts. Some were quite advanced, having realised their own potential and developed their skills for their own pleasure. Meanwhile others were just starting to discover the extent of their capabilities.

'In 1915 the Academy was formed. Its goal was to inject hope and happiness into the minds of people during extremely dark times. Back then, this place was just an island and the tower didn't exist. The Nightmare Realm, which exists on a plane beneath us, is a place where bad dreams happen, and it was there that the Dreamweavers focussed most of their efforts. As their skills grew they met with greater success, and as more people turned up they sought to learn from one another, to better themselves and the dreams of mankind.

'Then, as clouds of the Second World War grew on the horizon, a Dreamweaver – probably the greatest of his generation – named Mikhail Rasputin identified the need to pass on as much knowledge as possible to the younger generations, in case too many Dreamweavers fell in the coming conflict. Through the knowledge he had gained of the workings of the Dream Isle he created this tower, albeit without the outer wall you see behind me. To this day very little is known of how he went about achieving such a feat. To manipulate this place in a similar way to how you would alter a dream is a gift that only a handful of Dreamweavers have ever possessed. With the Spire created as a centre of learning, Rasputin and his colleagues focussed on passing on their knowledge to whomever they could. And it was fortunate they did, for the war claimed the lives of many.

'As the conflict drew to a close, things here began to change. Rasputin, who was revered by virtually everyone who met him, began to lose his way. It is said that the horrors that he had experienced during the war had left him bitter, disillusioned and full of hatred. Rather than assist the rest of the Academy in rebuilding the dreams of a shattered world, he sought vengeance and began to abuse his powers. His skills were so advanced that he soon found ways to torture the minds of those he held responsible for the bloodshed, and from there it was a short step to murder.

'At the same time he did his utmost to coerce others to join his cause, with a degree of success. However, the Academy soon found out what he was up to and sought to banish him from the Dream Isle. But Rasputin's power and cunning were too great for them, and he merely retreated to the Nightmare Realm and set up his base of operations there. And so it is that we find ourselves in the situation we are in today; locked in a struggle to keep him and his minions from sowing the seeds of hatred and despair.'

The kids around him sat with long faces, slowly digesting what he was telling them.

'But Second World War was years ago,' piped up the fairy in a sing-song voice. 'He can't still be mad about that.'

'I'm afraid he can,' said Tristram gravely. 'But in any case, times have changed and his motive is no longer solely revenge. Over the past few decades the wider world has discovered how important Dreamweavers are to maintaining a sense of balance within the collective mental state of humanity, causing a new threat to emerge. Various parties with nefarious agendas have sought the services of Rasputin, and he and his cronies are now acting as mercenaries, selling their skills to the highest bidder. They were present during the fall of Eastern Europe and the various conflicts in the Middle East. Assassinations, hostile takeovers; whatever the task, they seek to spread anarchy and fear, sometimes subtly, sometimes through merciless slaughter. They have become the single greatest threat to world stability in this age and it is our job to stop them.'

There were a few moments of stunned silence.

'But we're just kids and teenagers,' said the fairy. 'What can we do?'

'Ah, that's the beauty of Dreamweaving,' said Tristram smiling. 'Kids have far better imaginations than any other age group. As people get older and see the world for what it is, their minds tend to dwindle. They get stuck in a job, get a house and family and go through the same old routine, day in, day out. Kids, however, see the world as a limitless place and hence their imaginations are not so restricted. The age at which people first discover the Dream Isle varies greatly. I think the youngest Dreamweaver ever encountered was about four years old, although that really was an exceptional case. More often it starts around the ages of eight or nine, but rarely does it commence beyond the late teens. Once people are here it is easier for them to stay because they know what is needed to remain a good Dreamweaver. It would be extremely uncommon for someone in their twenties or beyond to arrive here for the first time. By then the mind is normally too set in its ways.'

At that moment there came a cry from the outer wall and several senior Dreamweavers hurried past the group to see what was going on. Tristram glanced over his shoulder and flexed his wings agitatedly. He appeared to be in two minds as to what to do next.

'What is it?' asked Daisy. 'Is something wrong?'

'Just a minor alert I expect. Maybe a sighting or something. Look, you all seem a little uncertain about what I've been telling you, so how about I give you guys a few minutes to discuss it amongst yourselves? I know it helped me when I first arrived.'

With that, he rolled back off the railing and disappeared. Most of the group sprang to their feet and peered over the edge, but he had glided safely to the ground and gave them a wave as he walked away. Billy, who had not run to the railing, was prowling back and forth agitatedly.

'This is ridiculous,' he said out loud. 'Laughable even. I must be going crazy to be dreaming this sort of rubbish. I'll wake up in the morning and it'll be nothing more than some messed up product of my imagination.'

'Well, I guess you'll be the first to find out,' said Ryan, turning round. 'If you and Soph can look one another in the eye tomorrow morning and say this never happened, then it really is just a dream. In fact, it really would just be _my_ dream and none of you would know anything about this.'

'Unless we're all going nuts and having the same nightmare,' said Sophie.

'Will you guys cheer up?' said Daisy breezily. 'We should all be happy to be sharing this wonderful gift. Anyway Ryan, you and I already met here last night, so you know you're not going crazy.'

The others looked at Ryan, surprised.

'I... err...' he stammered.

'Yes?' said Sophie, looking at him with renewed interest.

Ryan sagged.

'All right, yeah, we did,' he said with a shrug. 'We met down on the beach and I woke up a short while later. We then bumped into one another on the way into school and soon realised it hadn't just been a dream.'

'Oh God,' said Sophie. 'So I really am stuck sharing this experience with my brother?'

'I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect myself, you know,' growled Billy. 'But I suppose there is some sense to it. We _are_ twins after all.'

'So, what then? We become part of this secret club and go around entering people's minds and messing with their thoughts?' asked Sophie. 'Sounds rather creepy if you ask me.'

'Didn't you hear what Tristram and Mr Rockwell said?' asked Daisy. 'They need our help.'

'And he did say we have a choice,' put in the fairy.

'That's true,' said Ryan. 'And as messed up as this all seems, it does sound quite cool.'

'Oh I bet you'd love to take your chance to become some sort of superhero,' scoffed Billy.

'Shut it Bambi,' snarled Ryan. 'You know, for a guy brought up on a council estate you've really got your head up your backside.'

'And for a guy who has everything he wants, you're a real loser,' spat Billy.

'Will you two stop it!' cried Daisy. 'Please? This is one of the best things that's ever happened to me and I'm going to enjoy it no matter what. If you guys don't want to share it with me that's fine, but stop trying to bring one another down. It's depressing.'

Ryan and Billy glared at one another. Sophie appeared to be lost in a world of her own woes, while the remaining members of their group appeared perplexed and mildly amused by such a display of animosity.

'I thought you guys were put together because you get along well,' mused the eagle, preening its feathers.

'We will, I mean, we do,' said Ryan, still looking at Billy. 'Well, most of us do. I guess we're just getting used to the idea of this place.'

'Well at least you've got friends to share it with,' said the rock golem, stepping forwards. 'I don't know anybody here.'

'Me neither,' said the chameleonic boy nervously. His skin was changing hue faster than any of them could keep up with.

'The number of people I know is precisely zero,' declared the robotic goat boy.

'So you see,' said the eagle, spreading its wings and flapping up onto the railing. 'You guys think you've got it tough, but try getting your head round this place on your own. Talk about feeling like an outcast.'

Billy, Ryan and Sophie looked at one another, ashamed.

'Oh all right, I'll play along if I must,' said Billy finally.

The other two nodded their agreement.

'Good,' said the eagle. 'Now, since we are all going to be working together we might as well get to know one another. My name is Moira Deane. I'm from Dublin. How about the rest of you?'

She looked round the rest of the group.

'Sophie Richards. Hemel Hempstead, England.'

'Daisy Rose. Picklewick, near Hemel Hempstead.'

'Billy Richards. I'm her brother,' he nodded at Sophie.

'I think we had that figured,' remarked Moira.

'Ryan Butler. I live next door to Dizz, I mean Daisy.'

'Frédéric Marceaux. Lyon, France,' said the goat boy.

'Isabella D'Amato,' said the fairy. 'I'm from Italia.'

'Earl Westwood,' offered the cowboy. 'Salt Lake City, Utah, though I now live with my folks in London, England.'

'And I'm Katya Strauss from Dortmund,' declared the golem.

'What about you?' Moira asked the chameleon boy, who was changing colour so quickly he was beginning to resemble a strobe light.

'T... Teemu Varonen, F... Finland,' he stammered.

'Wow,' said Daisy. 'So we're all from Europe, or at least living there.'

'Makes sense doesn't it?' said Billy.

The others looked at him blankly. He rolled his eyes.

'Well, your compatriots across the pond won't have gone to bed yet will they?' he said, looking at Earl.

'Oh I get it,' said the cowboy, his slow drawl causing Billy to wince.

'So depending on what time of day or, more correctly, night it is, this place will have more people from a particular continent in it at one time,' the snow leopard continued.

'Like game servers on the internet,' added Ryan, cottoning on.

'Exactly!' came Tristram's voice.

His sudden reappearance startled all but Ryan, who was used to it by now.

'Everything okay?' Daisy asked.

'Yes, yes, nothing to worry about,' Tristram replied, although his expression read otherwise. 'Anyway, it looks like you're all getting to know one another which is a great start. Each of you will have your own strengths and weaknesses, and you will be able to learn from your colleagues as you go. Now, are you all happy enough for us to move forward and proceed with your training?'

There were a few slow nods, but then Daisy stepped forward and declared, 'Yes we are Tristram. We think it is most exciting and can't wait to get started.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw Billy open his mouth to say something and then shut it again.

_Why did you have to be here?_ he thought. _Dizz too, for that matter. Think how many points I'd have over Jack by now if it was just me and Soph._

More importantly than that, Ryan was starting to harbour real doubts over whether school would ever be the same again. Yet his mind had brought him unbidden to this place and he seemed powerless to resist its draw. He would just have to deal with what the waking world had in store for him when he returned.

Tristram led them back inside the Spire and into a small room on the same level. It was shaped like a wedge of cheese, squared off at what would have been the pointed end, and it had a roof that got progressively lower the further towards the centre of the Spire it went. They were directly beneath the lecture theatre they had been sitting in a short while earlier.

There was little in the way of furniture, with only a couple of low benches to either side of the main feature of the room, which was a trapezoidal pool in its centre. It was quite shallow and there were a number of indistinct images circling around slowly within its waters. It was fed by a channel running from the innermost wall of the room, which was fitted with a sluice to control the flow of water. There was a similar device at the other end to let water out, but where it went from there they could not tell. In one corner of the room, leant up against the wall, was what looked like a load of old gym mats.

The group perched themselves on the benches as best as they could, with only Sophie having any real difficulty. Tristram closed the door behind them and flicked a switch on the wall, which dimmed the main lights and illuminated another set that were built into the sides of the pool. Immediately the images in the water sprang into focus. He picked up a long cane from the floor and joined them.

'So then,' he said, looking round the group. 'What do you see here?'

'Dreams!' exclaimed Daisy excitedly.

'That's right. This is what we call a stock pool. It allows us to isolate dreams from the main flow and hold them for an indefinite amount of time. It was originally built to allow people to study dreams and further their understanding in a controlled environment. There is one of these for each of the eight sources issuing from the Spire. Most are now used for teaching purposes, although there is some ongoing research that is still done when people have a chance. I imagine the other tutors took their groups straight into one of these rooms, but I thought it best to give you a bit of background before we literally jump in feet first.'

The group were transfixed by the images floating by. There were about half a dozen all depicting benign environments such as fields of ripened corn, country villages lined with quaint, thatched cottages and grand, sweeping vistas of glacier-carved valleys.

'They look pretty quiet,' said Ryan, expecting at any moment to see something truly outrageous happen in one of them.

'That's because at this time there is no-one there to occupy them and start the story off,' said Tristram. 'This tower prevents normal people from entering these dreams. They are like a blank canvas waiting to be painted on and it's only when they get beyond the outer wall that they become accessible. This makes them perfect for teaching people about Dreamweaving, for as there is no story playing out it makes returning to this room a breeze. As you all know, the way to get to the Dream Isle when you are in a dream is to finish the story. People without the gift never make it that far because they are susceptible to outside influences such as the presence of others, alarm clocks and so on. They also react badly when it comes to stressful and emotional situations. Isabella, do you remember how you first came to be here?'

The fairy looked at him sadly.

'My cat, Rico. A car had hit him. I found him lying in the middle of the road.'

'I remember,' said Tristram gravely. 'For most people that would have been too much. The sadness would have caused them to wake up. Then, I imagine, their first instinct would have been to find the cat and make sure it was all right. But that didn't happen to you, did it?'

Isabella shook her head.

'I was kneeling beside him, praying, wishing that he was alive again and suddenly I felt his warm fur nuzzle against me.'

'And that was your doing,' smiled Tristram. 'A short while later, Isabella ended up here. Her part in the tale had come to its conclusion. Now, Ryan here did something extra special. He managed to bring an end to a nightmare which, believe me, is a tough thing to do first time out. The stresses induced by nightmares are much greater than normal dreams and there is usually much less time to deal with the situation. It is more of a case of reaction rather than considered action. In Ryan's case, he was trapped under water, and seconds away from waking up, when he gave himself the ability to swim like a fish and reach the surface.

'Because the dreams you see before you are not yet fully developed, any form of Dreamweaving is likely to eject you from them. I'm sure when you all first arrived here found yourselves lying somewhere near a body of water, feeling more than a little dazed and confused. That is why we will be needing these.'

He got to his feet and walked over to the mats stacked against the wall.

'If you could move those benches to the end of the room we'll get these laid down.'

When they were finished there was a three-metre border around the pool. The group stood close to its edge, looks of nervous anticipation and excitement lining their faces. Tristram joined them and pointed at the image of a grassy hill that was crowned with a knot of tall trees.

'That's where we're heading,' he said. 'Now, I must quickly tell you that if at any point you wake up then please do not try to get back to sleep. Under normal circumstances it would be fine; you would just materialise somewhere on the island and be able to make your way back here. However, we do have a minor security situation going on outside and I don't want any of you to inadvertently put yourselves in harm's way. Just do your best to stay with me. Oh, and if I disappear at any point, don't worry. I will be back!'

'So how do we get in there?' asked Moira.

'Simple,' said Tristram. 'Just jump into it. Who wants to go first?'

No-one put themselves forward.

'Come on, there's nothing to it. Honestly.'

Billy leaned out over the water as the dream drifted close to him.

'I'll do it,' he said firmly.

'Good lad,' said Tristram. 'Hop in then. Nothing too spectacular though; the speed you enter can affect the speed of your return.'

Billy nodded, and as the dream slid under his nose he hopped forwards and vanished into the water.

'Where'd he go?' asked Sophie, half expecting to see him swimming around beneath the surface.

'Take a look,' said Tristram, pointing at the image. It had reformed in the rippling water and showed a tall, gangling youth standing on the hilltop, looking around with interest.

'Can we leave him there?' she asked with a grin.

'Now I'm not sure that would be very fair,' laughed Tristram.

'Oh go on, we can just jump into one of the others. That one with the mountains in it looks nice.'

'No, I think he needs some company,' said Tristram firmly. 'Who's next?'

'I'll go,' said Ryan, getting as close to the dream as possible.

'Remember, easy on the entry,' warned Tristram.

'Screw that,' replied Ryan, and he jumped as high as he could, tucked his knees up and bombed into the dream.

As the others all recoiled from the splash, Tristram smiled broadly.

'He'll regret that later.'
9

Ryan's arrival on the hilltop was as placid as his entry had been enthusiastic.

_I don't know what Tristram was worried about_ , he thought, surveying the wide panorama of fields and woods before him. The hill was a pimple on a flat landscape, dotted with villages and criss-crossed with country lanes and hedgerows. In the distance, slightly to his right, loomed a large power station that was the only blemish on an otherwise pleasant view.

'I knew you'd come next.'

Billy Richards – the gangly human version – was standing a few feet away, also taking in the scene.

'Yeah?' grunted Ryan examining his hands, which were flesh and blood once more.

'Wouldn't do for me to seem braver than you, would it?' said Billy, his golden locks blowing in the breeze.

'Well, we all saw you on your own here and you looked so lonely and scared...'

At that moment a short, stocky girl with ruddy hair and green eyes appeared between them, shutting them both up.

'Hi, I'm Moira,' she said chirpily, offering her hand to Ryan.

'Ryan Butler,' he replied, shaking it.

She turned and greeted Billy, whose response was notably less enthusiastic.

One by one the others appeared in their true forms; Daisy, Frédéric – a gawky looking boy with tanned skin and a single eyebrow – then Earl, who didn't look a lot different from his avatar, and Isabella – a petite brunette whom all the boys suddenly developed a keen interest in. Then came Sophie, followed by the tall German girl, Katya, and finally the skinny, anaemic form of Teemu, who seemed to stand out more from the group now than he did as his psychedelic avatar.

A moment later Tristram appeared in front of them, bereft of his wings and clothed – _thankfully_ , Ryan thought – in a pin-stripe suit. His long, dark hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and he looked much the same as he had when Ryan had met him on the Railway to Heaven. He clapped his hands for attention.

'Okay it looks like we all made it through without waking up, so that's a good start. I chose this place not because of the view, but because of the scope it offers for safe and simple Dreamweaving. Now, I expect that you will all progress at a different pace, but I don't want anybody to feel disheartened if they don't think they are getting it right away. As with anything, it takes time and practice so just focus on what you are doing and try not to be distracted by others.'

'What are we supposed to be doing?' asked Katya.

Ryan tried not to snigger at the way she pronounced her W's as V's.

'Follow me and I'll show you,' said Tristram.

He strode past them and headed up to the clump of trees at the top of the hill. There was dried foliage and dead wood scattered all over the ground, and one of the trees had been uprooted and was lying on its side amidst the others. Tristram went over and perched himself on top of it, his legs dangling freely beneath him.

The group gathered round but, sensing that some sort of demonstration was forthcoming, there was a general reluctance to stand too close. Tristram was clearly in tune with what was going on and he smiled.

'Right,' he said as they looked on expectantly. 'I'm afraid we need little more theory before we begin. Now, as you're all aware, Dreamweaving is the art of altering the path of a story by making something happen that is not part of the natural thread. But what do you think such things could be?'

There was a pause while each member of the group came up with a response and then waited for someone else to put theirs forward.

'Come on,' encouraged Tristram. 'You've all got an example or you wouldn't be here.'

'I brought my cat back to life,' said Isabella, her sultry accent capturing even more of the boys' favour.

'Okay good. That's an example of Physical Influence, which is applying your Dreamweaving skills to another person or creature to alter their physical make-up. It is an offshoot of the more general art of Physical Evolution, which is the ability to change one's own physicality to suit a particular situation. Ryan here did just that when he gave himself the ability to swim like a fish. However, at this time I don't want any of you attempting to fly or to walk through tree trunks. We are going to start with something a lot more straightforward.'

He hopped off the log and picked up a large stick from the ground.

'We're going to try our hands at Morphing. Put simply, that is taking something and turning it into something else. It's probably the most fundamental of all Dreamweaving techniques and is a stepping stone towards conjuring something out of thin air. Now, what should I turn this into?'

'A gun!' shouted Ryan.

There was muted laughter from his colleagues.

'Ah, it's not quite as easy as that I'm afraid. You have to have a genuine need to fulfil before you can successfully morph something. You see that tree behind you?'

The group all turned round and Tristram walked past them and pointed to a hole in the side of it.

'Can you see what's in there?'

They all peered forwards but none of them could make out what he was looking at. Tristram held up the stick and aimed it into the hole. Suddenly a beam of light leapt out of it, illuminating a songbird sitting on a clutch of eggs inside. Tristram was now holding a torch in his hand. None of them had seen the change happen.

'Bear with me a second,' said Tristram, tossing the torch to Billy. A moment later he disappeared.

'How the hell did he do that?' asked Billy, looking at the torch.

'Impressed?' asked Sophie with a smile.

'Well, yes, I suppose I am. It can't be that hard though, surely.'

'Go ahead and do it yourself then,' she replied.

Billy threw her a scowl.

'All right then,' he said, chucking her the torch and picking up a fresh stick. He walked over to the tree and pointed it inside.

Nothing happened.

Ryan sniggered and Sophie shook her head.

'He's always got to be better than anyone else,' she whispered.

'Clearly it's not as easy as it looks,' added Katya.

Billy had started to flourish the stick like a magic wand in the vain hope that some elaborate arm movement might suddenly cause it to change shape. He eventually grew frustrated, swore and threw the stick on the ground in disgust.

'It's impossible,' he declared as the rest of the group shared amused glances.

'Having trouble?' came Tristram's voice from behind them.

Unbeknown to the group he had reappeared and taken up his previous position on the fallen tree. Now he was watching them all with keen interest.

'Don't be disheartened Billy. Few people, if any, are able to consciously Dreamweave at the first attempt. You see, Dreamweaving is something that is linked closely to your emotions and mental state. You can't just morph something because you feel like it. You've got to have a _real_ need, or at least persuade your mind that there is a real need by channelling some of your emotions into it.

'Looking into that hole was not a life or death situation for me so I had to find something else to fuel the change. This being quite a simple morph, I tapped into the happiness I got from seeing my mum re-marry. She spent most of my early life in a state of selfless misery, so I was overjoyed when she could finally do something that was wholly for herself. That's the sort of thing you need to be doing in order to make this work. Think of the outcome you desire then think of an emotion to fuel it. Try not to get distracted and just focus on what you are trying to achieve.

'Now, I want you all to find a stick and give it a go. Spread out and find yourself something to work with. I'll be round shortly to see how you are getting on. If you find it comes to you quickly and you get ejected back to the Spire feel free to jump back in for another go.'

The ten members of the class looked uncertainly at one another, then Ryan stooped down and picked up the stick Billy had discarded.

'I bet I can make this work,' he said, waving the stick in front of his face.

'I bet you can't,' said Billy snootily, turning on his heel and walking away from the group.

'I think we'd best leave that poor bird alone,' called out Tristram as Ryan held the stick up to the hole in the tree. 'I think she's had enough.'

Disappointed, Ryan watched the rest of the class slowly drift off to various parts of the hill-top. He was at a loss as to what to do with his stick. He needed a need. Tristram hopped off the log and came over to him.

'You okay buddy?' he asked.

'I can't think of anything to do with it,' said Ryan, staring forlornly at the stick.

'Well, you've done it before so I have every confidence in you,' replied Tristram.

Ryan thought for a moment.

'The grappling hook?'

'Exactly.'

'That didn't work out too well for me, did it?'

'True, but it was an extremely tricky situation. It would have required some Physical Evolution as well to get you out of that one. Under the circumstances you did extremely well.'

Ryan gave a small smile.

'Have more of a think and I'll come back to you in a bit,' added Tristram, and he headed over in the direction of Frédéric, who looked like he was trying to saw a tree in half with a twig of his own.

Ryan wandered out into the open and gazed once more out over the lands surrounding the hill. He needed to think of something. His eyes wandered across the fields and hedgerows and eventually worked their way to a wooden gate at the foot of the hill. Next to it there was a stile.

_Dad could have cleared that in a single throw_ , he thought.

His father had been the county champion at the javelin and had been on course to throw for his country when a shoulder injury had ruled him out of the nationals. To equal him would be a feat indeed. He looked at the stick in his hand with a critical eye. Its aerodynamics were poor, but surely it was worth a try.

Ryan reached back and then threw it with all his might. The stick spun end over end in an arc, before landing with barely a sound in the grass a short way down the hill. It was a long way from reaching its target.

'Bugger,' said Ryan under his breath.

Slowly he walked down the slope to where his stick had landed. The gate at the bottom hardly looked any nearer. He picked it up and headed back feeling heavy-hearted. He had almost got there when he heard a cry from over to his left and saw a number of the other students rushing towards one of the trees atop the hill, which had burst into flame. He dropped his stick and ran to join them.

'What happened?' he asked Isabella, who was the first person he came across.

'Teemu; he did it!' she exclaimed, although Ryan couldn't quite tell whether she was excited or upset about it.

'Blimey, someone gave it a good go,' said Tristram, arriving with a large branch dragging behind him, which he swiftly morphed into a fire hose and used to douse the blaze.

'I'll just go and check on him,' he added, and disappeared.

'Beginners' luck?' suggested Moira, looking at the others. They were all holding sticks that were still looking remarkably stick-like.

'Probably,' said Ryan. 'I can't get mine to do anything.'

'Ryan! Ryan!'

Daisy's voice behind him made him jump.

'Ryan look! I did it!'

Ryan turned round and saw her running over carrying a sapling.

'Dizz, you need to _change_ the stick _into_ something,' said Ryan, throwing a bemused glance at the others.

'I did,' said Daisy, arriving triumphantly with a beaming smile on her face. 'I turned a dead tree into a living one.'

Ryan scratched his head.

'Yeah, nice one. You can't fool me that easily. Anyone could have pulled up a baby tree and brought it over.'

Daisy's smile flickered ever so slightly.

'Well, I'm going to plant this one here,' she said resolutely, heading over to the smouldering remains of the other tree and digging a small hole next to it. She placed the sapling inside and covered its roots with earth. A moment later she disappeared.

'I guess she was telling the truth,' drawled Earl, picking his nose with the end of his stick and examining the contents.

'I guess so,' said Ryan, now feeling even more disheartened.

He left the group and headed back to the spot where he had been practising.

'Right,' he said, picking up the stick again and trying to psyche himself up for his next effort. 'Emotions, emotions. What can I use to make this work?'

He searched back through his recent memories for something that he could use – some sadness or anger that was pent up inside him – but he came up blank.

'Come on!' he cried out in frustration, hurling the stick down the hill. It went a short distance further than before but was still nowhere near reaching the gate.

He swore out loud and slumped to the ground, arms crossed.

'I'm never going to get this,' he said glumly.

'Sure you are,' said Tristram, who had been watching him from a short distance away. He came over and sat down beside him.

'How's Daisy?' asked Ryan, not really wanting to know the answer.

'Oh she's fine,' smiled Tristram. 'Teemu was a little shaken though, so she's stayed behind in the training room to keep him company.'

'Good for them,' said Ryan, not meaning a word of it.

'Listen Ryan, it'll come. Just give it a few more goes and see how you get on. What are you trying to do anyway? I saw you chuck your stick away.'

'My dad was really good at throwing the javelin so I was hoping I could do the same.'

'Oh right. Good choice. I guess your dad would be proud of you if you could be as good as him?'

'I'll never be as good as him,' said Ryan sulkily.

'How come?'

'Oh he's just Mr Perfect. Nothing I do is ever good enough.'

Tristram thought for a moment. Then he got to his feet and headed down the hill to where Ryan's stick had landed.

'Hold that thought,' he called out over his shoulder.

Ryan watched him as he picked up the stick and began making his way back up towards him. There was something about Tristram; he was the sort of person Ryan would usually have had no problem loathing. He was good looking and talented, which reminded him a lot of his dad, but his positive attitude and endless encouragement made him almost impossible not to like. Ryan got to his feet as he approached.

'Okay try again, but this time try to picture your dad and what he would think if you fail to make the throw.'

Tristram went to hand him the stick, but as Ryan reached out his hand he dropped it on the floor.

'You'll never make it,' he sneered, turning away.

Something clicked inside Ryan. It was the exact same tone his dad would have used. With a rising fury he picked the stick up and, with one loathsome look at Tristram, hurled it from the hilltop. Suddenly it wasn't a stick at all, but a long spear; sleek, smooth and straight as a ruler. It sailed through the air with glorious precision and buried itself in the field some distance beyond the gate.

Ryan stared at it open-mouthed.

'Nice shot,' said Tristram, turning to face him with a broad smile.

'I... I did it,' stammered Ryan.

'Well done. By the way, have a safe landing.'

Ryan just had time to give him a confused look before the land around him disappeared as if the grass had been pulled from under his feet.
10

Ryan flew out of the water and into the training room at quite a pace. He tumbled through the air and landed flat on his back, well over two metres from the pool edge. Such was the force of his return that he nearly cleared the mats they had laid out for protection. Disorientated, he lay on his back for a few moments staring up at the high, tapering ceiling.

'Ryan!' came Daisy's familiar voice from a different part of the room.

'Hey Dizz,' he said. 'I did it too.'

'Oh Ryan that's great! Are you okay though? That was quite a rough landing.'

'Yeah. I think so.'

'You sure? You hit the mats with quite a thump.'

'Yeah no worries.'

He sat up.

Daisy was sitting on one of the benches at the end of the room between Teemu and Katya, who had also succeeded in morphing her stick.

'Tristram said you might come back quite spectacularly,' smiled Daisy. 'That's why he told us to sit over here.'

Ryan hauled himself to his feet.

'It _was_ pretty cool,' he said, impressed by how far from the pool he had ended up. 'I don't know what Tristram was on about with not jumping in too hard. I'll definitely be doing that again.'

He walked over and sat down with them.

'No Billy yet?' he grinned.

'No,' said Katya. 'He seemed a little bit frustrated. Maybe he has given up?'

'I wouldn't be surprised,' said Ryan. 'But it's not like it was _that_ difficult. Are you guys heading back for another go?'

'No, I'm okay I think,' said Daisy. 'Teemu here had a bit of a shock when his stick set on fire.'

'No, no, it's what I planned,' said Teemu, who was barely visible, having settled on a colour that was identical to that of the wall behind him. 'Go back if you want t...'

He was interrupted by the return of Moira, who hopped out of the pool without nearly as much drama as Ryan.

'Hey,' she said, fluttering her wings and waddling over to join them. 'Isabella's gone.'

'Oh that's a shame,' said Daisy. 'She didn't manage a morph.'

'So who does that leave?' asked Katya.

'Billy and Sophie for a start,' said Ryan. 'And that French kid.'

'And Earl,' added Moira.

'Oh yeah, the cowboy,' said Ryan. 'Anyone else get the feeling he's a little slow?'

'Ryan!' scolded Daisy. 'That's not very nice, is it?'

'Well, I'm just saying. Anyway, I fancy another go. It will give me a chance to rub Billy's nose in it.'

'You're very competitive, aren't you?' said Moira.

'What? And he isn't?'

Ryan got to his feet.

'I'm heading back in. Hey, where's chameleon boy gone?'

Sure enough, Teemu had silently disappeared from their midst. Daisy stretched out a hand to make certain he wasn't just extremely well camouflaged, but he was truly gone.

'Oh,' she said with a smile. 'In that case I'll come with you.'

She and Ryan walked over to the poolside and searched for the dream. When they found it they saw an image of Billy and Sophie in a heated debate, with Tristram doing his best to moderate.

'Check this out,' said Ryan, taking a few steps back and then running forwards and somersaulting into the dream.

Daisy giggled and hopped in after him.

They arrived back on the hilltop just in time to see Billy and Sophie turn their backs on one another and stalk off in opposite directions. Tristram seemed a little flustered, but greeted their return with great warmth.

'Ryan, Daisy; great to have you back! I'm glad to see you're keen to get the practice in. At least it gives me a chance to have a break from these two. They really don't like one another, do they?'

'Well, they _are_ family,' pointed out Ryan.

'I would have thought that was a good thing,' said Tristram. 'I always got on well with my brother and sisters.'

'You always _got_ on? You mean you don't any more?' asked Daisy.

A shadow passed over Tristram's face and he hung his head.

'No, not exactly. It's a long story and not one I want to trouble you with. Find yourselves new sticks and have another go. Try something different if you feel up to it.'

And with that, he turned his back on them and wandered over to where Frédéric was still beating his stick against a tree in an attempt to chop it down.

'What was all that about?' asked Ryan as they watched him go.

'I get the feeling it's a subject that makes him sad. Poor Tristram! I wonder what could have happened to make him feel that way. He's so happy normally.'

'Well, he clearly doesn't want to share it with us so I'm not going to get too worked up about it. Hey look, there's a good stick. Maybe you could turn it from a dead one to a living one again?'

He picked up a gnarled branch and handed it to her.

'No, I think I'll do what Tristram said and try something different. What did you do?'

'I launched my stick off the hill and it landed miles away,' said Ryan proudly.

'Really? That's amazing. Can you show me how you did it?'

'Err, sure.'

Ryan picked up another stick and led her out of the trees to the place he had thrown his spear from.

'It cleared that gate down there,' he said, pointing.

'Oh my gosh! Did it really?'

'Yeah.'

'I don't think I could ever throw something that far. What emotion did you use to make it happen?'

'I dunno. Anger, I guess. I thought about how my dad would put me down if I failed to make the shot.'

'But your dad's lovely, Ryan. He wouldn't put you down.'

'Really? You obviously don't know him at all.'

It always annoyed Ryan the way people spoke about his dad as if he was some kind of demi-god. He had a way of charming people that disguised other aspects of his personality and it made Ryan sick.

With a grimace, he hurled his stick down the hill. This time it became even longer and more stream-lined than before and hurtled beyond his previous effort, burying itself in the ground in the middle of the distant field.

'Wow! That was amazing!' Daisy squealed with glee.

Ryan opened his mouth to reply but suddenly found himself tumbling out of the pool at high speed. This time he did clear the crash mats and hit the ground with a heavy clunk, before finally coming to rest against the wall.

There were gasps from those gathered on the bench, which now included Billy and Sophie, both of whom had managed to channel their dislike for one another into successfully completing the task.

'You okay Ryan?' asked Sophie, trotting over to him.

'Yeah I'm fine,' he replied, getting to his feet.

It wasn't boyish bravado either. He really was fine. Despite his ungainly landing he had barely felt a thing. With the adrenaline really flowing following another successful throw, he gave one look at her and then hurled himself back into the pool. He reappeared almost exactly where he had been standing before.

'Ryan, that was brilliant!' said Daisy, throwing her arms round him and giving him a huge hug. 'You're really getting the hang of this, aren't you? Come on, show me how to do it.'

Ryan had never felt so good about himself and his confidence was soaring.

'Okay, just try and think of something that makes you really angry and then channel it into your throw.'

'Okay!' said Daisy excitedly.

She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up some angry thoughts. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she cast her stick into the air. It travelled a modest distance before landing in the grass.

'Oh,' she said, slightly disappointed.

'What did you think of?' asked Ryan.

'I thought about when Mr Watson gave us all those history essays the day before we broke up for Christmas. I thought that was really unfair.'

'You can't use homework to do it!' said Ryan. 'You've got to use something that makes you really mad.'

'Oh I don't know,' said Daisy. 'I thought that would do it. It did wind me up a bit.'

'What about the way the other kids at school make fun of you?'

'No, I don't think so,' said Daisy airily. 'That sort of thing doesn't really bother me.'

'Come on. There must be something?'

'I'll tell you what; I'll try and think something up if you try to turn your stick into a tree.'

'All right, I'll give it a go,' said Ryan confidently.

Once again he closed his eyes and formed the image of his dad in his mind. He tried to capture the emotions it brought forth and channel them into his stick.

_I want a tree_ , he thought. _I want to be holding a sapling. I am holding one._

He opened his eyes but the stick remained.

'Oh,' he said, scratching his head. 'That didn't work.'

'What didn't work?' asked Tristram, once again appearing out of nowhere.

'Dizz, I mean, Daisy wanted me to turn this into a baby tree,' he said.

'And you were still thinking about your dad?'

Ryan nodded.

'Ah, right. If you managed to get that to work I'd be seriously impressed. The problem you've got is that you're using the wrong type of emotion. You won't be able to create something like that using negative feelings. It just doesn't work that way. You need to think of something happy, or at least positive. I'm sorry; it's something I should have mentioned earlier.'

Ryan frowned. All he could think of was his dad, whose face had lodged itself at the forefront of his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't shift it. In the end he just shrugged at Tristram and hurled the stick away. Once again it changed shape and flew beyond the gate and into the field.

Tristram smiled and Ryan braced himself for another dramatic return to the training room. But instead of the land being ripped from under him it began to fade away, and before he knew it his first Dreamweaving lesson was over.
11

As soon as Ryan awoke he was acutely aware of how hungry he was. In fact, though he did not know it, it was his body's burning desire for sustenance that had cut short his time at the Academy. There was light coming from behind his curtains, but not enough to convince him it was really time for him to be getting up. A quick glance over at his alarm clock confirmed it; 5:39am. Way too early.

However, Ryan was feeling a hunger the like of which he had never experienced before. It was as though something was gnawing and scratching at the walls of his stomach, causing a great deal of discomfort. After a couple of minutes Ryan knew there was no chance getting back to sleep. Yawning, he tried to push himself into an upright position but found no energy in his arms to do so. His skin was clammy and his muscles shook in objection to any physical exertion. The only time he had ever experienced anything remotely similar was when he had come down with a fever and lost over a stone in body weight in a matter of days.

This time, though, Ryan's body was the same size and shape it always had been; it was just that his batteries had run totally dry. Strangely, he could visualise quite clearly the day his mother had left her car's lights on overnight and had not been able to start it the following morning. It was exactly the way Ryan was feeling. He lay on his back for a further minute or so, taking long, slow breaths whilst trying to minimise the movement of his ribcage; anything to store up enough energy to get him to the kitchen.

When he felt ready, he slid his left leg out from under the duvet and let it hang limply over the edge of the mattress, his toes just brushing the carpet. It felt horribly gritty and reminded Ryan of how much junk-food had been consumed in his room since his mum had last cleaned it. Perhaps there was something left that he could eat. Anything would do.

Buoyed by this thought, he slid his other leg out and over the edge. Then he allowed their weight to drag the rest of his body down onto the floor. He landed like a sack of potatoes and was barely able to prevent his head from thumping the carpet. Flat on his back, he tilted his head to the left, then the right, but could see nothing remotely edible in either direction. His vision swam as a fresh bout of hunger tore at his insides. He had to get something in there fast.

With quite some effort he managed to rotate his body round so that his head was pointing towards the door. After some further exertion he had managed to get himself close enough to open it. Fortunately he had neglected to close it properly the previous evening, which allowed him to grab the edge with his fingers and pull it towards him. There followed an awkward few minutes while he and the door competed for the same area of carpet, but finally he found himself lying in about the same position with the obstacle successfully removed. He gave himself a moment to recover and then continued on what was turning out to be quite an epic journey.

Little by little, he edged closer to the top of the stairs. It seemed so stupid; what would usually have taken him only a few seconds had taken nearly twenty minutes. Ryan was surprised he had made it so far, given his condition, but now he could feel what strength he had left dwindling and began to wonder whether he really could make it all the way to the kitchen. He thought about calling out to his mum, but she would only think that he was trying to get out of going to school and serving his detention, so he continued to suffer in silence. His only saving grace was that the next part relied on gravity and when it was over the end would be almost in sight.

He reached the top of the stairs and hung his head over the edge of the first step so that he had an upside-down view of the descent before him. The stairs were clad in the same carpet that covered the landing and downstairs hallway. Each step was prematurely worn in the centre where Ryan had repeatedly slid down them as a youngster, so he knew what the next stage of his quest had in store for him. He had even done it head-first on his back several times in the past, but with little energy left there was a real risk of him hitting his head hard on the way down. He gritted his teeth and prepared for the ride.

_Clump, clump, clump_ his body went as it flopped from one step to the next. In the stillness of the house it resounded loudly but, surprisingly, it did not wake his mother.

As his limp form slithered to a halt at the bottom, he was grateful to have suffered little more than a knock to the funny-bone on his way down. He lay still while the tingling subsided, then he craned his neck to take a look at the final part of his journey.

'Come on soldier!' he muttered, trying to imagine himself as one of the war heroes in his games; wounded in battle, but bravely fighting on regardless. He could see the open door to the kitchen just a short stretch of carpet away. Beyond it was the smooth, tiled floor that would provide much less resistance. He was nearly there.

Summoning what strength he had left, he twisted his body round and pushed himself the rest of the way. The coolness of the tiles felt welcome after the heat generated by his movement across the carpet, and he enjoyed the sensation as he edged across the floor in the direction of the food cupboards. Now only one more challenge remained; reaching the food.

The main problem with the kitchen layout was that all the lower cupboards were filled with pots and utensils, while all the food was higher up. Only the freezer was within reach and there was little in there that would help him. He needed a quick fix.

Ryan was now feeling sick with hunger. The mere thought of trying to stand up made him dry-retch and, having come so far, he was now faced with the real possibility of falling at the final hurdle. His head was pounding and his vision was starting to blur at the edges. It was quite frightening.

'Pull yourself together Private Butler!' he scolded himself. 'A real man would just reach up, grab the work surface and pull himself up.'

Ryan had nothing left, but a sudden vision of how pathetic he looked, floundering around the house on his back, steeled him into one final effort. Fighting the ever-growing nausea, he grabbed hold of the handle to one of the cupboards and began hauling himself up, inch by painful inch. Eventually he managed to get one arm onto the work-top, and in one final effort hauled himself to his feet.

The bread bin was closest to him and he guzzled down a thick hunk of crust in seconds, despite the dryness in his mouth causing it to stick to its roof. It was like a nitro boost to his exhausted body and, with the assistance of the work surface, he was at last able to stand fully upright. He edged round to the sink and stuck his head under the tap to slake his thirst, feeling renewed strength with every mouthful. Then, for the next five minutes, he simply went berserk. Bags of crisps, bowls of cereal, toast, chocolate and even a banana passed his lips as he sought to tame the raging beast in his stomach. It was as though some feral instinct had taken over as he piled it all in, grunting and snorting as his body fought for breath between mouthfuls.

When he finally felt like he could cram no more in he slumped into a chair and closed his eyes. He felt whole again. He was no longer a slave to his body's desires.

As his insides began to settle back down he cast his mind back through his experiences that night and tried to rationalise everything that had happened. It was a struggle to try and remember it all, but there were a couple of things that really stood out.

Firstly, he had been asked to become part of some secret organisation and use a gift he had been given to fight the forces of evil. It sounded so corny that he couldn't help laughing; it could have been plucked out of any number of films or computer games. Normally he would have written it off without question, but the fact that there were people he knew going through the exact same thing forced him to reconsider.

And that brought him to the second point: he shared something in common with Billy Richards, as well as Daisy, which stood to put his hard-earned school reputation in jeopardy. Daisy was an outcast and Billy chose to isolate himself, which meant that any association with them could be catastrophic. Somehow he had to keep it a secret, which would be no problem for him, however there was no telling how Daisy would act towards him now. His only saving grace was Sophie, who he would have to call upon for support if things went belly-up. Plus, their connection was certainly going to give him the upper hand in his ongoing contest with Jack.

'Ryan? Dear God, what happened down here?'

Ryan jumped violently at the sound of his mum's voice.

'Jeez Mum, don't sneak up on me like that.'

He turned and saw her standing in the doorway in her pink dressing-gown, her mouth agape as she surveyed the carnage he had wrought upon the kitchen. Food wrappers, spillages of cereal and milk, and uneaten bread crusts were scattered across all available surfaces and parts of the floor. He had to admit that it was in a bit of a state.

'Ryan, what's going on?'

'I was hungry,' he shrugged, thinking she probably wouldn't buy the story of him nearly starving to death.

'Didn't you eat last night?'

'Yeah, I had whatever that stuff was you left in the oven.'

'That _stuff_ was shepherd's pie. So why are you so hungry all of a sudden?'

'Dunno. Just growing up I guess.'

'Christ Ryan, what a mess!' she shook her head. 'I want you to get this all cleaned up by the time I'm out of the shower. I don't get what's wrong with you. It's one thing after another at the moment.'

She sighed and plodded back upstairs.

Ryan knew he would have to clean up the mess. It was only fair, after all. However, her last comment had not put him in a cooperative mood, therefore he did the minimum possible to get the kitchen back in order and retreated to his room to ready himself for what could be an interesting day.

As he showered away his exertions he suddenly recalled the triumphant feeling that had filled him when Daisy had witnessed his successful morph. The elation on her face had been enough to prove that his new-found talent was a good thing. He just had to make sure that it did not end up being his downfall.

For the first time in all the years Ryan had known her, Daisy Rose was looking anything other than radiant. Her wan skin and dull, weary eyes gave her a deathly look, and with her unkempt hair and shambling walk it was a surprise she had even been let out of the house.

'Bloody hell Dizz, you okay?' exclaimed Ryan as she staggered up the path to meet him.

He opened the gate and guided her through.

'I'm so hungry,' she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

'What? Didn't you have any breakfast this morning?'

Ryan began digging around in his bag for the packet of chocolate bars he had nicked from one of the kitchen cupboards, in order to sustain him throughout the day.

'I just had my usual,' she replied. 'There wasn't time for anything else.'

'And your mum and dad just let you leave the house in this state?'

'They're already off to work,' she said. It was a real effort for her to get the words out.

'But your dad works from home!'

'Yes, but he doesn't like to be disturbed.'

'Look, you should head back inside. You're not well enough to be walking to school.'

'I'll be okay,' she said with the faintest of smiles. 'One of those chocolate bars would be nice, though.'

'Of course. Here you are.'

It was gone in a matter of seconds and it seemed to Ryan as though a small amount of colour returned to her skin, although she had always been fair. She sat down on the grass at the side of the road and savoured the nourishment it had given her.

'Here, have another,' he said, pulling a second out of the pack. It, too, was wolfed down in an instant.

'Ah, that's better,' grinned Daisy, her teeth covered in chocolate. 'I didn't think I was going to make it today. I woke up feeling so very hungry.'

'Me too,' said Ryan. 'It must have been something to do with last night, but God knows what. All we were doing was lying in bed sleeping.'

'Oh Ryan, wasn't it great? And with Billy and Sophie there too; how wonderful! We're going to have so much fun together.'

'Yeah, great,' said Ryan uncertainly. 'Listen, how much longer were you there for after I'd gone?'

'Oh I don't know. Half an hour maybe? It's hard to keep track of the time when you're there.'

'And how many times did you manage to morph your stick?'

'Three I think. I don't really remember. I've just been so tired and hungry since I woke up. What are you thinking?'

'That there's some connection between this Dreamweaving and why we both woke up starving. I've been pretty hungry the last couple of mornings – well, hungrier than usual – but today was something else.'

'Maybe we should ask Tristram about it?' suggested Daisy.

'Yeah maybe. I'm definitely taking some food to bed with me tonight, though. Just in case.'

He reached out a hand and helped Daisy to her feet. They began walking down the lane into town as the morning sun kissed the tops of the hedgerows on either side. After several days without lifts to school Ryan was beginning to get used to the walk in, and without realising it he was really starting to enjoy Daisy's company again.

'So, this Academy, or society; whatever it is they want us to work for. Do you really think it exists? I mean, in the world as we see it now?'

'I guess so,' Daisy replied. 'It must do. It can't just exist in everyone's heads. Didn't Tristram say something to that effect?'

'I don't know,' said Ryan. 'I've accepted the fact that we are sharing the same experience in our dreams. But this?' He shook his head.

'Does it really matter?' asked Daisy.

'Well, yeah. I don't want this to turn out as some big wind-up. I'd feel really stupid.'

'I don't know what you're getting so worried about. Just enjoy the experience. If you must get to the bottom of it then go to the school library, or, even better, the one in town. They're bound to have some information on the Academy if it really does exist.'

Ryan smirked to himself. Daisy really did live in another time and place.

'That's a good idea,' he said. 'Or, better still, we could pretend that there are computers all across the world that are connected together, and which hold any piece of information you could ever want. We could look there. It would be such a fun game.'

'I know you like to tease me, Ryan,' said Daisy airily. 'I was just putting forward a suggestion and it prompted you to make a better one. We're a good team, aren't we?'

Ryan raised an eyebrow at what he considered to be a rather odd comment.

'Yeah. Okay,' he said dubiously.

They crossed the bypass and headed down the hill towards the school.

'I wonder how Sophie and Billy will be feeling after last night,' mused Daisy.

'Probably not too bad,' said Ryan. 'They only managed one morph a-piece from what I saw.'

'Oh, they went back in for another go when you were gone. And it was the first time there for both of them, so they had to Dreamweave to reach the island in the first place.'

'In that case they're probably feeling the same,' said Ryan.

'It will be nice to be able to talk to them about it, won't it?' smiled Daisy.

'Yeah. Listen Dizz, you know this doesn't change anything, don't you? At school, I mean?'

Daisy looked taken aback, though she did her best to disguise it.

'Yes, of course. No change. I'll... err... I'd best head off then. We're nearly there.'

She flashed him a smile, then headed off down a side road that led to a small gate at the back of the playing fields. Ryan watched her go. He knew it was for his own good, but there was no hiding from the burning guilt inside him. With a heavy heart he trudged on towards the main entrance.

'Where do you reckon Soph is today?' asked Jack as he and Ryan sat in registration together.

'Dunno,' said Ryan. 'She often cuts it fine, but this is really pushing it.'

Mrs Jacobs was already at her desk. She had walked through the door moments earlier and immediately scowled at the two of them. Jack had been tainted by his association with Ryan, who was discovering that his involvement in the photo fiasco – and subsequent falling out with Mrs Jacobs – had really polarised opinion. The argument had caused great amusement among the other pupils, and it had certainly placed him a few rungs up on the respect ladder. However, the resultant ban on mobile phones had dropped him straight back down again. He was also receiving some looks of loathing from the girls in his form. They were all sitting with their backs slightly to him, presumably assuming that he looked at all females in the same way he had looked at Miss Ward.

None of it bothered him particularly; his mind was still awash with thoughts about the previous night and he was harbouring a growing anxiety over where Sophie had got to. Following his and Daisy's experiences that morning it would have been good to know that she was okay.

'Perhaps I should text her?' he suggested as Mrs Jacobs ran through the register.

'You don't have her number,' scoffed Jack.

Mrs Jacobs looked up at him and glared.

'I do,' whispered Ryan when she was looking back down again.

'Well, go on then,' hissed Jack. 'If you can get hold of your phone, that is.'

'Bugger,' thought Ryan. He had only surrendered it a few minutes before and already he'd forgotten. He felt strangely naked and powerless without it.

Through careful questioning of Gibbo that morning, Ryan discovered that Billy Richards had also not made it into school that day. Rumour had it that he had come down with some highly contagious bug, which he had somehow passed on to his sister. Ryan knew better and, while he wasn't too bothered about Billy's absence, he remained concerned about Sophie's well-being.

It played on his mind all morning, but then lunch break arrived and gave him something quite different to worry about. He was heading down a small alleyway between the modern languages block and the main building, when he found his way barred by a huge boy from the year above called Harry Hopkins.

Harry was well known to most of Ryan's year group, having stamped out his authority within days of them starting. He was such a brute that many of the lads in the years above kept out of his way. Ryan tried to back up, but found his retreat blocked by a couple of Harry's cronies.

'Oi, Butler. Going somewhere?' shouted Harry.

Ryan was propelled forward, leaving only a few feet between them.

'Got a date with Miss Ward?' Harry sneered.

'Not until later,' replied Ryan, figuring he had nothing to lose in making a joke out of it.

'You're funny, Butler,' said Harry, grabbing Ryan's shirt and manhandling him so that his back was against a wall. 'You've cost us our phones.'

'Hey, _I_ didn't ban them,' said Ryan, holding his hands up. 'Miss Mulligan's the one you want to talk to about that.'

His response was met with a swift punch to the stomach. Ryan doubled up, coughing and spluttering, but Harry hauled him back to his feet.

'You'd better make this right you little maggot,' he snarled. 'If we're not allowed our phones in class by Monday you're in big trouble.'

He released Ryan and made to leave, but then turned back and landed a second punch in Ryan's abdomen. He spat on Ryan's back and left him lying on the ground. His two accomplices stepped on Ryan as they followed him out of the alleyway.

Ryan lay there until they had rounded the corner. Despite his fearsome reputation, Harry Hopkins didn't really hit that hard. It was his mates who needed to be avoided. Ryan had learned that the best thing to do was to play up to it when Harry hit him, as it meant the beatings were kept to a minimum. He got to his feet and dusted himself off. One of the buttons on his shirt had refused to give in and torn a hole in the fabric. Ryan cursed at the thought of what his mum would say when she saw it. Still, she'd already confiscated the leads to all his favourite things – or so she thought – so there wasn't much worse she could do.

He did his best to wipe the spit off his back and then went to find Jack.

He located his friend sitting on the same picnic bench they had occupied the previous lunchtime. Gibbo was there too, as well as several other lads from their year group.

'Where'd you get to?' asked Gibbo as he made space for Ryan to sit down.

'Me? You were the one who buggered off with Stephanie McMahon.'

'And? You would too if you got the chance.'

'You do know she's been out with half the year above us?' Jack pointed out.

'No she ain't. She's been with two of them, max.'

'Well, if you consider that one of them was Harry Hopkins, you want to watch your back.'

'Oh don't worry about him,' put in Ryan. 'He's got far more important things on his plate.'

'Ah, so that's where you were,' grinned Jack, noticing the tear in Ryan's shirt. 'Needed some company did he? You two had a bit of a kiss and a cuddle while nobody was watching?'

'Sod off. His mates were there too.'

'Euuurgh, sick!' cried Gibbo.

'Shut it you morons. Anyway, he'll be after you next if you keep trying it on with Steph.'

'I ain't trying it on. She's the one who fancies me. I'm having to fend her off with a sharp stick.'

Gibbo mimed a parry and thrust.

'That is the most pathetically untrue thing I've heard in a long while,' said Jack, unwrapping his neatly packed sandwiches and taking a bite out of one.

'What you got today?' asked Gibbo.

'Cheese and jam,' replied Jack with a wink.

'That's nasty,' said Ryan, taking out the sandwiches he had bought from the canteen during break. 'Why don't you eat some proper food?'

'And spend three quid on some stale bread and brown lettuce? No thanks. I'll stick with making my own.'

'Where's your usual pasty?' asked Gibbo, noticing the unusually large quantity of green stuff in Ryan's lunch.

'Dad's coming home,' said Ryan simply. 'Mum says I need to get in shape.'

'Ha! It'll take more than that,' laughed Gibbo.

'That's funny coming from you. At least I'm in the footy squad.'

'Mr Brackley won't pick me because I'm too good,' said Gibbo. 'It would be unfair.'

Ryan and Jack looked at one another and shook their heads.

'Gib, you are such a tool,' said Jack gravely. He turned to Ryan. 'So what did the big Double H want with you?'

'Guess,' said Ryan, fishing a piece of cress out from between his teeth and looking at it distastefully.

'Something to do with the mobile amnesty, perchance?'

'Got it in one. And what does 'perchance' mean, you tart?'

'Must be one of them big poncy words they teach them in top set English,' grinned Gibbo.

'Well, it's clear for all to see why you're stuck in the doldrums,' returned Jack.

'Haha! Doldrums! Careful mate, you'll use them all up!'

'Yeah, you'd better save them for when Sophie comes back,' added Ryan. 'You're gonna need them.'

'Hey, I'm not sure how impressed she'll be when you show her you can tie your own shoe laces. I think I'm safe.'

'You two still aren't chasing that lost cause are you?' put in Gibbo. 'It's obvious she's frigid.'

Ryan threw Jack a quick glance and together they shoved Gibbo off the side of the picnic bench. He landed on a satsuma that one of the other boys had discarded, which burst and covered the side of his trousers in juice.

The peals of laughter that followed could be heard all the way across to the other side of the playing fields.

Ryan headed into his final lessons of the week in a much better mood than earlier that day. Friday afternoons were always taken up with double Design and Technology, which was basically an excuse for the boys to mess around in the workshop for an hour and a half. It was an improvement on the previous term, when they had been split between working with textiles and cooking in the kitchen. Ryan and his friends heartily agreed that these were girls' subjects and should be kept that way.

Now they were in their element, or at least they would have been had restrictions on the use of the machinery not limited them to a selection of relatively harmless hand tools. Still, they had an enjoyable time creating bookends out of blocks of wood. Ryan didn't actually own enough books to warrant a bookend, but he was grateful of the opportunity to be doing something practical for a change. He had fun gluing Gibbo's workpiece to the bench while his friend wasn't looking, while at the same time shaping his own to look like it had a ninja star embedded in it. In fact, he was having such a good time that when the bell went for the end of the day and he realised that he still had a detention to serve, it was quite a come-down.

'I can't believe Dazza's getting away with this,' he complained, as Jack and Gibbo escorted him to a classroom near the headteacher's office; detentions were always held in the same place.

'He's not getting away with anything,' said Jack. 'He's just postponing the inevitable.'

'Yeah, but it would be much better if I had him for company rather than being stuck with a bunch of losers from the other years. Where is he anyway Gibbo? You're his best mate. What's he playing at?'

'Dunno mate. If I had my phone on me I'd tell you. We've still got to pick them up before we go. I'll text you later and let you know if you like.'

'Cheers. I'll probably send him some abuse later myself. Are you guys up to much tomorrow?'

'Nope,' said Jack.

Gibbo shook his head.

'How about hitting the afternoon session up at the park followed by some games at yours, Butler?' suggested Jack.

'No chance,' replied Ryan. 'I'm grounded. Plus, my mum's nicked the leads to all my stuff, so there's nothing to do at my place.'

'Except stare at your mum,' grinned Gibbo.

'Yeah I'd happily pop over for some of that,' agreed Jack.

'You two can get lost,' said Ryan, pushing them both away. 'I'd rather go to detention than listen to another of your mum jokes.'

'Off you go then,' said Jack. 'We'll find a way to catch up tomorrow.'

'Later,' said Ryan, and he headed into the classroom.

Forty-five minutes of writing lines later, Ryan had his phone back and was on his way home. Lines! What a ridiculous way to spend his detention! If Miss Mulligan wanted to have 'I must show respect to women' written a few hundred times she could have given him a laptop and he would have copied and pasted it as many times as she wanted. Apparently it was supposed to teach him something, but the only thing Ryan had learned was that he hated his teachers even more than he previously thought.

He had only just cleared the main gate and started up the road when, from seemingly out of nowhere, Daisy appeared.

'Am I dreaming?' asked Ryan ruefully.

'What do you mean?' she asked, confused.

'You have a habit of popping up unexpectedly in my dreams,' replied Ryan.

'Well, I hope that's a good thing. It would be sad if you didn't want me around outside of school as well.'

Ryan's mind flitted guiltily back to earlier in the week when he really hadn't wanted her around.

'Actually I'd be glad of the company,' he said truthfully. 'Have you been waiting for me all this time?'

'Yeah. But I knew you were going to be a little while, so I went for a walk in the fields. How was your detention?'

'You knew about that?'

'Of course. Everyone knows about it. I do have other friends, Ryan.'

'So you've seen the photo then?'

'Oh yes, it was very funny.'

'You weren't disgusted?'

'No, not at all. That's what boys do, isn't it?'

Ryan laughed.

'Yes, I guess it is.'

'Did you see Sophie or Billy today?'

'No, I was just wondering what happened to them.'

'Everyone was saying that they were ill. I told them they were just starving hungry and in need of a good feed; just like I was this morning.'

Ryan frowned.

'You said that? What did people say?'

'They looked at me a little strangely, that's all.'

_I wonder why?_ Ryan thought.

'So, are you going to try and find out more about the Academy?' asked Daisy suddenly, when they had walked on for a while longer.

'I haven't really thought about it.'

'Well, I was thinking that if you were going to have a look on the computer then maybe I could help you?'

Ryan was taken aback. Daisy hadn't been into his bedroom since their primary school days. It would be weird having a girl in there now.

'You know, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. My mum didn't react quite as well as you did to that photo. She's taken away all the wires to my electrical stuff so I can't use any of it, although I did find where she was hiding them and nicked back the ones for my computer.'

'So it _is_ working then? Great!'

'Well, yes. But I can't let mum know it's working or there'll be double the grief for me. I don't really want to use it unless I absolutely have to.'

In fact, the first thing Ryan planned to do when he got in was fire up his PC and play through a few levels of his latest shooter. The idea of Daisy coming over and entering his fortress of boy-dom set a precedent that he wasn't entirely comfortable with. But he was fighting a losing battle.

'It will be fine. I'm sure your mum isn't that mad with you. She's lovely. Anyway, she's probably round at my house already. I think she's a little lonely at the moment. Go on, you promised to show me some of those game things that you play.'

'All right, all right. But only if Mum's out. I'm not risking it if she's lurking around.'

'Great! I'll pop home and check with Daddy and see if she's there.'

As it turned out, they caught Ryan's mum heading round to the Roses' house as they reached the front gate. At first she only saw Ryan and looked like she was about to tear a strip off him, but then she caught sight of Daisy and her demeanour swiftly changed.

'Hello you two!' she smiled cheerily, hurriedly concealing the bottle of wine she was carrying.

'Hello Mrs Butler,' replied Daisy, with an even bigger smile. 'How are you today?'

'Oh I'm just fine darling. I was just popping round to see your father.'

_For more than a few minutes, by the look of things_ , thought Ryan.

'Mrs Butler, is it okay if I pop home with Ryan and help him with some homework? Actually we're both struggling with this one assignment and were hoping to knock our heads together to see if we can come up with a solution.'

'Of course, my dear. That will be fine,' she replied, trying a little too hard to appear charming. 'Ryan's in need of someone to keep him on the straight and narrow and I couldn't think of anyone better. There's food in the freezer and cold drinks in the fridge. Have fun!'

And with that, she went through the Roses' gate and made her way up their drive. Ryan and Daisy watched her go.

'That was easy,' smiled Daisy. 'I told you she'd be fine about it.'

'Did you just lie to my mum?' asked Ryan, a mild look of disbelief on his face.

'Yes. Well, maybe. Actually, no, not really. We're going to find out more about the Academy, which is like doing homework, except it's just not for school.'

'Ah, I like your thinking. I've just never heard you fib before.'

'Well, I try not to. It's bad, isn't it?'

'Dunno, I do it all the time. I tend to get more hassle for stuff that's nothing to do with me.'

'Well, I won't tell anyone you stole your wires back. You don't need to get into any more trouble.'

'No. Two weeks of detention is quite enough.'

They walked on a few yards further and opened the gate leading to Ryan's house.

'Did you notice the bottle of wine?' asked Ryan as they strolled up the driveway.

'Yes, she always seems to have a glass in her hand when she's over. One time she definitely appeared to be a bit tipsy.'

'Probably why she was so miserable the other morning,' said Ryan.

They reached the door and Ryan fumbled in his pocket for his house key.

'Oh I'm so excited!' said Daisy, clapping her hands, almost unable to contain herself. 'It's so long since I've been round here.'

'You came over at Christmas,' said Ryan.

'That was different; it was a family thing. And besides, you kept to yourself for most of it.'

Ryan flushed.

'Yeah... err... sorry about that,' he said. 'I don't really like those family get-togethers. They just seem a bit forced.'

'It's okay. I'm just happy to be here now. It's just like old times.'

Ryan wondered whether she expected him to still have the old cabin bed that they used to make dens under, or whether she would want to play hide and seek with him. When she mentioned 'old times' it gave him the impression that she really was exactly the same girl she had been back then; fun-loving, carefree and eternally happy.

He opened the door and showed her inside.

'Oh wow! Your parents have been decorating,' Daisy exclaimed as she stepped over the threshold.

Ryan looked around the hallway in puzzlement.

'Err... I don't think so. It's been like this for ages. And they still haven't got round to changing the carpet on the stairs.'

'It's lovely, all of it,' said Daisy, peering through the archway that led into the living room. 'I can see why you like spending so much time indoors.'

'What are you talking about? Your house is just as nice, if not nicer. Anyway, I don't spend much time down here. I'm normally in my room.'

'I can't wait to see it!'

'Do you want a drink first?'

A few shades of doubt were colouring Ryan's thoughts. Daisy's enthusiasm was full-on, almost to the point of being insincere. He began to wonder whether it was such a good idea to show her his stronghold of solidarity.

'Okay!' she smiled, and he led her through to the kitchen. He poured her a glass of his mum's elderflower cordial and himself a Coke.

'You know, I had a dream about this room the other night,' he said, leaning back against the work-top and taking a sip.

'Really? What happened?'

'Well, it was last night actually, when I first returned to the Dream Isle. I was alone next to one of the rivers so I began watching all the dreams floating past. Suddenly I saw an image of the landing upstairs, and before I knew it, I was there. I came down to the kitchen and there was a spider that kept on multiplying into more and more spiders every time I tried to catch it, until the entire room was filled with them. Somehow I managed to dream up a web with some bait in the centre and, when they were all in the one place, I caught them and set them free.'

'Oh wow!' said Daisy. 'So you were Dreamweaving again? That's amazing! You really seem to have a talent for it.'

'I don't know about that,' replied Ryan, though some of the pride he had felt the previous night was returning.

'I can't wait to go to bed and find out what happens next,' said Daisy excitedly. 'But first we should find out more about the Academy.'

Ryan knew that he couldn't delay things any longer, so he led her upstairs and into his sanctum.

'It's... it's so different,' Daisy gasped as she caught sight of the posters on the wall, the large TV and the computer in the corner. It really was a new room to her. The model aircraft that used to hang from the ceiling were gone, as were the steam engine curtains. It was still resoundingly boyish, but it had just progressed on a few years. Ryan couldn't tell whether Daisy was impressed, disappointed, or a mixture of the two. It was certainly a few minutes before she managed to digest it all. Eventually she perched herself on the edge of the bed while Ryan fumbled behind the computer to plug all the wires in.

'That should be it,' he declared, taking up his usual position in his command chair. He switched the computer on. Lights flashed and fans whirred softly as the machine sprang into life. A soft, red glow emanated from somewhere deep within.

'Wow,' cooed Daisy. 'Was it expensive?'

'My parents got it for me for Christmas. They said it was to help with my studies, so that's why I've got a printer and scanner and everything. They don't know much about computers though, so I just told them what I needed and they got it for me.'

'So have you done much school work on it?'

'As if! That's the last thing I'd want to use this for. Besides, there are too many distractions. As soon as I fire it up there are so many games just begging to be played.'

'You really like your games, don't you?'

'Yeah, I love them. They keep my mind and my reactions razor sharp. A bit like a ninja's really.'

'Oh Ryan!' exclaimed Daisy, suddenly bursting into a fit of giggles.

The desktop had just loaded up and Ryan had completely forgotten that, in a moment of stout defiance, he had saved the picture of Miss Ward as his background. His face went scarlet.

'Yes, well, I guess one of the boys must have done that the other night when they were round,' he blustered, trying to open any application he could to conceal the image.

'How very naughty of them,' said Daisy.

Ryan didn't think that she did sarcasm, but the tone of the comment sounded an awful lot like it.

'What sort of music do you like?' he asked, trying to change tack as quickly as possible.

'Oh all sorts. Bach, Mendelssohn, Vivaldi; anything with a good melody and a bit of drama.'

'Right,' said Ryan slowly, looking at her as if she was from another planet. 'Anything from this century?'

'Well, there are some good modern composers out there, but I'm more into the classics right now.'

'No, no, I mean, anything that's in the charts at the moment?'

'Oh right. Well, my parents don't really listen to popular music, so I don't know. Classical is pretty much all I've ever heard.'

Ryan gawped at her.

'Seriously? You've never...? You're in for a treat then.'

He flicked on his speakers and began playing her some of his favourite hip-hop tunes. Daisy appeared to enjoy them, although it was difficult to tell whether it was genuine, or if she was just humouring him. It was a far cry from her musical comfort zone. Nevertheless, she sat perched on the edge of the bed, merrily tapping her feet as Ryan opened up a web browser and they began their search.

'Right, here we are,' he said, his fingers poised over the keys, ready to show off his masterful typing skills. 'What should I search for?'

'The Dream Academy!' said Daisy, clapping her hands in excitement.

A moment later a list of results were displayed on-screen.

'Hmm...' said Ryan, scrolling through them for any sign of what they were looking for. 'Doesn't look like there's much here. Some old band that my dad probably likes and some stuff about making your dreams come true, but I don't think that's it.'

He flicked up a couple of websites that offered tenuous links to what they were after. But, unsurprisingly, they were completely unconnected.

'Nope, nothing here.'

'Oh,' said Daisy, looking crestfallen. 'So there's nothing there at all.'

'On the whole internet? No, there's got to be something. It's just a case of putting in the right combination of words to get what we're after. If it's here, we'll find it.'

'What should we look for then?'

'Let's try 'Dreamweaving',' replied Ryan, his fingers whirring into action.

Up popped a list of sites, the majority of which appeared to deal with organising weddings and the like. Again, Ryan flicked through them and opened a couple up for good measure, but to no avail.

'Bugger,' he said, sitting back in his chair and frowning at the screen.

'Try 'Dreamweavers',' suggested Daisy.

Ryan reached for his keyboard with one hand and deleted _i.n.g._ from the previous search, and added _e.r.s._ He pressed _Enter._

'Nothing,' he said grumpily, flicking up and down the list. 'Same crap as before.'

'Wait a minute; you're moving it too fast. It's hurting my eyes.'

Ryan looked over his shoulder and was somewhat alarmed to find Daisy's face less than a foot from his. She was sitting forwards with her chin in her hands, staring intently at the screen. Ryan had never seen her blue eyes looking so big. He could almost read the name of the search engine reflected in her pupils. He hoped she would blink at some point soon to prevent her eyeballs from popping out.

'Could you go through them more slowly please?' asked Daisy, her gaze remaining fixed on the screen.

'Sure,' nodded Ryan, turning back to the PC and taking hold of the mouse.

'Web design, weddings, web design,' murmured Daisy as the descriptions scrolled past. 'Is that it?' she asked when Ryan had reached the bottom of the page.

'No, there are all these pages yet.'

'Keep going then.'

Ryan opened the next and resumed scrolling.

'Holidays, weddings, weddings, charities... keep going.'

Ryan opened another.

'... web design, holidays, wed... hang on, what's that?'

Ryan's eyes, which had started to wander from the screen, snapped back and tried to locate what she was looking at. It took him a couple of moments. Sandwiched between yet another pair of wedding sites was another, whose tag line read; 'Imagination is the only limit...'

'A bit cryptic, but it could be the one,' said Daisy, her eyes alive with anticipation.

'Shall I?' asked Ryan, his attention fully captured once more.

'Do it,' said Daisy, almost under her breath. 'Please,' she added a moment later.

Ryan smiled to himself as his hovering finger descended on the mouse button. He pressed down on the plastic moulding and there was a small amount of give before the micro-switch gave a resounding _click!_ The entire screen went white.

'What happened?' asked Daisy.

'Dunno. It just went blank.'

'Did you click on it?'

'Yeah. Everything's gone. Everything. Even the browser.'

'Perhaps it's broken?'

'The screen wouldn't go white. It would go black, or blue if it was really serious. Anyway, the power light is on and it looks like the hard disk is happy.'

'How can you tell that it's happy? It's just a computer.'

'I mean, it looks like it is working okay, okay?'

Daisy smiled.

'I'm just joking, Ryan.'

Ryan mentally slapped himself. Of course she was joking! He would have taken it as a joke if anyone else had said it. Why was he so convinced that Daisy was anything but normal? She'd been his friend for years!

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled.

'What for?'

'I don't... err... I just am. Sorry.'

Daisy looked at him with her head tilted slightly to one side and smiled.

'You're weird,' she said. 'Oh look!' she added, glancing back at the screen. 'Something's happening.'

She was right. In exactly the same way that it had done in Ryan's mind when he had fallen asleep the night before, the outline of a mountain was sketching itself across the white screen.

'Oh my gosh, this is what happens when I go to sleep!' Daisy exclaimed.

'Ditto,' said Ryan, watching, enthralled, as the Dream Isle slowly painted itself into existence. 'This must be some animation they use as an introduction to the site.'

As it turned out, the entire website was something of a marvel. It was operated through an interactive interface that required the user to click around the landscape to access different areas.

'I've never seen anything quite like this,' Ryan murmured as he got to grips with the navigation controls. 'I mean, it seems to have a standard site layout underneath it all, but this interface is something else.'

'It's pretty,' said Daisy as Ryan brought the view-point swooping in towards the Spire.

'Yeah. It's like in the movies where they make all the computers do really simple stuff in a fancy way just to fool dumb people into thinking there's something complicated going on.'

'Well, there is, isn't there?'

'Not really. Not in this part, at least.'

'Well, I like it. It makes more sense to me than all those indistinguishable pictures you normally have to click on.'

'Right, so now we're here what do you want to do? Actually, before you answer that, let's take a good look at the Spire. We've only seen it from ground level.'

He dragged the view round so they were peering into the observation ring near the top.

'Looks like there's more going on there than just people staring out of the window,' he said, marvelling at the amount of detail present and feeling a little surprised that both his computer and his internet connection could handle it.

'What do you mean?' asked Daisy.

'Look at that bank of screens on the far wall and all the consoles in front of them. I guess they must monitor what's happening on the island from up here. That's a bit creepy.'

'Where do those stairs go?' asked Daisy, noticing a small flight between two of the consoles, leading up to the ceiling.

Ryan shifted the viewpoint.

'Roof access?' he suggested. They could make out the faint outline of a hatch on the top of the observation ring.

'So Tristram can take the short route down,' smiled Daisy.

'Maybe...'

Ryan spun the image round so they were looking at the island in plan view.

'It looks a lot smaller from up here,' he grinned.

'What's that?' asked Daisy, pointing at a thick, dark line leading away from one side of the Spire all the way to the sea.

Ryan zoomed back in. From one side of the Spire a deep gorge plunged, carving a deep, twisting scar through the landscape.

'I haven't seen that before,' he said.

'Neither have I,' said Daisy. 'But I've only seen a small part of the island, so I'm not surprised.'

'Do you think it means anything?' asked Ryan.

'I've no idea. Maybe we could ask Tristram about it tonight. Anyway, we're here to find out more about the Academy. How do you get to that information?'

Ryan turned his attention back to the Spire.

'Each side of the tower or outer wall is a link,' he said knowledgably. 'Look, this one's _Home_ , this one's _News_ and this one's _About_.'

'Click that one!' said Daisy gleefully.

Ryan did so.

Immediately all the colour drained from the image and a message appeared in the centre of the screen. It read: PLEASE ENTER YOUR LOGIN DETAILS. It was followed by:

AVATAR –..............

D.O.A. –..................

PASSWORD –..........

'Oh,' said Ryan, staring at the words and feeling rather annoyed.

'What does D.O.A. mean?' asked Daisy.

'Dead On Arrival.'

'That doesn't seem to be in the right context.'

'Dunno then.'

'How about trying one of the other links?' suggested Daisy.

Ryan pressed _Escape_ and colour flooded back into the image. He clicked on the 'Home' octant, but the same thing happened.

'Great,' he said. 'Fat lot of use this is. All we can do is sit here and spin the pretty picture around.'

He moved his hand sharply, causing the island to spin rapidly in and out of view.

'Stop it!' cried Daisy, turning away and holding her stomach. 'That makes me feel sick.'

'Sorry,' said Ryan, returning the view to normal. 'What do you want to do then?'

'Well, we know what to ask Tristram when we next see him,' said Daisy. 'If we can't go any further then maybe you could show me some of your games instead?'

'I thought you'd never ask,' grinned Ryan.

He clicked around the screen, trying to find a way of exiting. He then tried a few keyboard combinations that normally did the trick.

'Bugger,' he said as they all failed. 'Time for a reboot.'

'Hang on,' said Daisy. 'How do you get off the Dream Isle normally?'

'You just wake up,' Ryan replied.

'Or?'

Ryan frowned, trying to work out what she was getting at.

'You enter a dream?' he suggested.

'Exactly!' declared Daisy.

Ryan looked at her, puzzled.

'So...' she prompted.

Ryan fingered the wheel on his mouse for a moment before finally cottoning on to what she was getting at. He zoomed in towards one of the rivers and clicked on its gently rippling waters. Immediately the landscape disappeared and was replaced with the picture of Miss Ward. The two of them burst out laughing at the sight of it.

'I knew you'd get it,' giggled Daisy.

'Well done you for thinking of it,' replied Ryan, giving her a high-five. 'I would have just turned it off and turned it on again.'

Daisy shook her head. 'That picture is so funny.'

'I'm glad _you_ think so. My mum would kill me if she found it on here.'

'It's just your expression. I bet you can't remember a word of what she was saying.'

'I wouldn't be able to no matter who was trying to tell it to me. I find school stuff so boring.'

'So you don't enjoy challenging yourself to learn new things and expand your mind?'

'No, not really. I prefer to challenge myself in other ways.'

He began loading up his favourite Second World War shooter.

'Besides,' he added. 'You spend most of your time staring out of the windows in class, or so I hear.'

'That's what Jack Thomas says, is it?'

'Yup.'

'I suppose I do daydream a lot, but I still get my work done at the end of the day.'

'Doesn't it annoy your teachers; you not paying attention?'

'Not as much as if I stared at their breasts, I imagine,' smiled Daisy.

Ryan's jaw dropped. He had never heard Daisy come out with such a comment before.

'What?' she asked, upon seeing the look of astonishment on his face.

'I... well, nothing actually. I just didn't expect you to come out with a response like that.'

Daisy smiled warmly. 'I'm really not a nutter Ryan. I'm just like anyone else.'

_No you're not_ , he thought. _You're more sound than anyone at school. If only they knew._

'It was pretty sharp,' he said out loud. 'Here, check this out. I know how much you like the outdoors.'

He nodded at the screen, where a first person perspective showed a pair of legs rapidly descending towards an expanse of lush countryside, dotted with tiny villages.

'What's this?' asked Daisy.

'France, 1944. This is how I get out and see the world.'

'Okay, show me what it's all about then.'

Daisy was leaning forwards, staring at the screen again. Ryan could sense her close by. He almost expected to feel her breath on his neck. He wasn't quite sure what he'd do if he did. The mere thought of it sent a tingling sensation rippling through his body.

He blinked hard and tried to concentrate as his character neared the ground. Already the sounds of battle were being fed to them through his speakers, despite them being turned right down in case his mum suddenly returned home. The crack of gunfire, the screams of the wounded and the distant roar of artillery resounded on all sides as Ryan landed in the midst of a desperate fire-fight. Immediately he was set upon by unfriendlies and went scurrying for cover, while sending off a burst of fire in their direction. He quickly found a hollow to duck into, making himself virtually invisible while he assessed his options. Flicking through his inventory, he pulled out a rifle and then slowly peered over the edge of the dip.

He caught sight of a couple of enemy soldiers who were advancing on his position from the direction he had come. Without a second thought, he took the nearest man's head clean off his shoulders with a well-placed shot. This caused Daisy to squeal so loudly that Ryan jumped and his second shot caught the soldier's accomplice in the leg, leaving him writhing around on the floor in agony.

Ryan moved the little finger of his left hand ever so slightly and hit the _Escape_ key.

'What's up?' he asked, slightly annoyed. He prided himself in his ability to pull off one-shot kills on demand.

'It's horrible!' Daisy cried.

'Of course it is. It's war!'

'But why would you want to re-enact something so barbaric?'

'Err... because it's fun?'

'Fun? You just killed someone!'

'Dizz, it's a computer program. I can load it up again and that same guy will have miraculously come back to life. It's no big deal.'

'But it's horrible,' protested Daisy.

'Look, there's no point simulating a gentle stroll in the woods, is there? What fun would there be in that? You need to have some action or strategy; something to make you think and to make it enjoyable. Listen, I've played this level before. There's a village not far away that I need to liberate, once I've found some of my own men. If you're still not happy when I get there then we'll try something else.'

Daisy nodded uncertainly. However, she was no longer falling off the edge of the bed with excitement.

Before Ryan continued, he accessed one of the menus and turned the parental controls on to minimise the amount of blood and gore on the screen. It seemed to do the trick. As he made his way through the level, his unerring knack for head-shots making his progress swift, Daisy settled down and began to get quite into it. So much so, in fact, that she began giving Ryan warnings whenever she glimpsed a foe hiding in one of the ruined buildings. While this would have usually annoyed him, Ryan took it as a sign that he was starting to bring her over to the dark side.

Finally, having secured the village just in time for reinforcements to arrive, he sat back and grinned at Daisy.

'Fancy a go?' he asked.

'Oh no, I couldn't possibly. It looks far too complicated.'

'Nah, it's easy. I'll fire up one of the training missions for you.'

'Okay then, yes. I've never used a gun though, Ryan.'

'Neither have I. There's nothing to it, trust me.'

A few moments later Daisy was standing in front of a grim-faced drill sergeant, who was barking orders at her in an hilarious cockney accent. Thankfully the parental controls were preventing her from being exposed to some of the language that Ryan had been subject to when he had played through the training levels.

Daisy was now in the command chair with Ryan on a beanbag next to her. She was sat so far forward that her face was barely a foot away from the screen, and her brow was furrowed in concentration as she fought to get to grips with the controls.

'It doesn't make any sense,' she cried as she ran round in circles looking at the ground, while the sergeant reminded her of what a disgrace she was. 'I'm either facing straight up of straight down.'

'Use the mouse to set it level then,' said Ryan, amused at how quickly the game had engrossed her.

'How? It all feels wrong. It's like down is up and up is down.'

'Oh you're not one of them are you?'

'One of what?'

Ryan nearly said 'freak', but was glad his mind intervened in time. He reached over, took the mouse from her and changed one of the settings that really did make up, down, and down, up.

'Ah, that's so much better!' said Daisy, plunging straight into the assault course with great aplomb. Then she was on to target practice, which seemed to bring out a certain amount of ambivalence in her. On the one hand, she appeared to be put off by the mannequins that she was told to shoot at. On the other, when it came to actually firing the gun, her skill level was pretty high for a first-timer. Before long, she had made it through the training stages and the drill sergeant had grudgingly declared her, in his best 'apples and pears' voice, fit for duty.

'That _was_ fun,' Daisy smiled, sitting back and feeling satisfied with her efforts.

'Told you so,' said Ryan. 'And if you enjoyed that, just wait until you get stuck into a real fight.'

'Oh no! I couldn't possibly. That's quite enough for me. Really Ryan, that's all I can handle for the moment. It is great, but it does make me feel a bit giddy after a while.'

'Okay, so what do you want to do then?'

'Actually, I'm excited to meet up with Tristram again and find out more about the Academy.'

'What, now? Dizz, it's not even eight o'clock yet. You can't go to bed. We haven't even had dinner.'

A week ago the idea of Ryan actively encouraging Daisy to stay round his house a little longer would have sounded ludicrous.

'I know, but I just can't wait to get back there. Aren't you excited about it too?'

'Yeah, but I'm not going to bed at stupid o'clock for it. Seriously, if you really do want to go to bed, we at least ought to have something to eat first. Remember how you felt this morning?'

'Yes, I suppose you're right. What do you have?'

'Let's go and have a look,' said Ryan, getting up and showing her the door. 'Mum's not done any proper cooking for a while now. She's been buying a lot of ready meals and leaving them in the oven for me to heat up. Dad's back soon though, so she'll probably get something decent in before long. Not that it bothers me. As long as there's meat, I'm happy. Oh, but she _has_ been making me get these crappy salad sandwiches for my lunch. Something about eating healthily.'

'Don't you like them?' asked Daisy as they arrived in the kitchen and turned on the lights.

'Nah, they are so boring and tasteless.'

'I love salad,' said Daisy. 'I like it that there's stuff you can eat just growing out there in the countryside. Wouldn't it be great to just live off the land? You know; just eating what you can grow or forage for?'

'Or kill,' added Ryan. 'So long as there was meat on the menu, I'd be fine. Give me a hunk of cow or pig over a pile of leaves any day.'

Daisy laughed.

'Well, if that would make you happy, then fine. We'll have to set up our own little farm somewhere. I'll tend the vegetable patches while you go out hunting.'

This suggestion caught Ryan off guard. Whether it was just a throwaway comment or betrayed some of the inner workings of Daisy's mind, it did not matter. The mere thought of it was enough to scare him back onto the defensive.

'I don't think so,' he said resolutely. 'I like being able to come to the fridge and have what I want right there. I couldn't deal with spending all my time hunting and preparing food. I couldn't live without crisps and chocolate either.'

'Relax Ryan, I'm joking,' said Daisy.

_Are you?_ he thought. He was glad she couldn't see the look on his face as he rummaged around in the freezer.

Conversation was scarce while they cooked and ate dinner, at least on Ryan's part. Much of the magic from earlier in the evening had been lost, and he was back to thinking of Daisy in much the same way as he had done before the week started. He regretted asking her if she wanted something to eat, since all he wanted now was to return to his fortress alone and feel in control of things again. For her part, Daisy kept the situation from becoming really awkward by talking away about nothing in particular, only requiring the odd cursory grunt of acknowledgement from Ryan in return.

Time wore on and they cleared their plates. Soon afterwards Daisy left, but not before she had reminded Ryan that he owed her a walk in the countryside in return for playing the games. He hastily agreed, purely to get her out of the house and with no real intention of going through with it.

As he shut the door behind her a wave of relief broke over him. That had been a close one. He didn't know what to make of some of the comments Daisy had come out with. On the one hand, she had shown a jovial side to her personality that he had not known existed, while on the other, her reputation as a weirdo had been all but confirmed. It was hard to know what to think, but thankfully she was gone and thinking was the last thing he intended to do. He headed back to his room, where the computer was still whirring away quietly in the corner, and settled down to watch some films.
12

It was about half past midnight, and the second movie had almost reached its conclusion, when Ryan heard the front door slam shut. He had been slightly on edge; trying to make sure he didn't fall asleep with the computer on in case his mum came home and busted him. It was a dangerous game to play, and had it not been for the violence of the noise Ryan may well have drifted off into a light doze before too long.

Now wide awake, he quickly shut the PC down and hid the cables, while a series of bangs and crashes filtered up from downstairs. For a moment he thought that the house was being burgled – poorly, he noted – but then he remembered the bottle of wine his mum had been carrying and concluded that she'd probably had it all to herself. With everything safely out of sight, he crept out of his room to see what she was up to.

The landing was dimly lit by the glow of the downstairs lights; at least his mum had managed to find the switch. Ryan trod quietly as he made his way to the top of the stairs. He could have just blundered his way down there and demanded to know what all the noise was, but it would have been uncharacteristic and he was curious about what he might witness if she didn't know he was watching. Besides, it gave him the opportunity to practice his commando skills.

Crouching down and peering carefully round the corner, he surveyed the terrain. The immediate vicinity was clear. There were no hazards in sight and no sign of the target. He shifted his vision to the middle distance.

_WARNING! DISTURBANCE DETECTED_ , went a voice in his head.

His eyes locked onto a few shards of broken glass gleaming on the floor. Scanning them thoroughly from his vantage point, he detected a few traces of blood on and around them. He looked for the source of the glass, which turned out to be the family portrait in the hallway, which was shattered in the middle and also streaked with blood.

MEDIC! I NEED A MEDIC OVER HERE!

It was clear that his mum was in quite a state, and from the noises he could now hear coming from the kitchen she was attempting to fix herself something to eat. Given how much of a meal she had made of turning the lights on, Ryan did not like the idea of her using knives or electrical devices. He stealthily made his way down the stairs – fourteen, definitely fourteen. Just as he reached the bottom the air was rent by an almighty crash, followed by a string of expletives, some of which even Ryan struggled to recognise. The time for playing commando was done. The situation was now a lot more serious.

He ran through the dining room and stopped in the open doorway. The kitchen was in even more of a mess than it had been that morning he had raided it. Half the cupboards were open and the worktops were strewn with bread, biscuits and crackers; anything his mum had found to nibble on. She was now on her hands and knees with a spoon in one hand, scooping up pieces of cereal from a puddle of milk and smashed porcelain in the middle of the floor. Her left hand was bleeding and the blood was mingling with everything else on the ground, making what looked like some twisted strawberry milkshake.

'Mum, what the hell are you doing?' asked Ryan, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing.

'Ryan, baby!' she replied, surprised and yet seemingly delighted to see him. 'Was just getting summat to eat,' she slurred. 'So hungry.'

She made to scoop up some more cereal, but Ryan saw a shard of the broken bowl slip into the spoon.

'Mum, stop!' he cried, dashing forward and knocking the spoon out of her hand.

'Hey!' she drawled. 'Was gonna eat that.'

She really was in a state. Her make-up was smeared and the ends of her hair were damp and matted from trailing in the puddle of milk. She also stank of booze. Even Ryan's friends would have struggled to fancy her at that moment.

'Mum, look at this place! It's like a bomb's gone off in here or something. How much have you had to drink?'

'Well,' she said, wagging her bloody finger at him as she attempted to climb to her feet. 'I had a bit... then I had a bit more... then all of a sudden I'd had a lot. But it's okay. I feel great.'

'You look like crap,' said Ryan, moving quickly to support her as she staggered. 'Look, let's go and wash your hands. Did you know you'd cut yourself?'

'Wha...?'

'Your hand. Look.'

He grabbed it and waved it in front of her face, but then realised immediately that he had made a mistake. His mum had never been that good with the sight of blood. On seeing her hand, what colour remained in her complexion drained away and her whole body lurched violently as a surge of nausea swept through her.

With three quarters of her weight already bearing down on him, Ryan man-handled her in the direction of the sink, knowing full well what was coming next. A second later he was regretting not having washed up his and Daisy's dishes, as his mum threw up heavily into the sink and over the crockery he had left there. Unable to retreat in time, Ryan found his bare arms and T-shirt peppered with droplets of booze-laden vomit, the smell and sight of which almost caused him to heave too.

'Mum that's gross!' he shouted angrily, shutting his eyes and trying to turn away from the spray.

His mother just groaned and coughed, before bringing up a second wave of illness. Ryan wished his hands were free to put over his ears, for the sound, more than anything, was repugnant. All he could do was hang on to her and ride it out until she had nothing left.

'It hurts,' his mum wailed, clutching her stomach as she continued to dry-retch into the sink. Ryan opened one eye and chanced a look at the mess she had made, but he quickly shut it again. While the majority of it had gone into the sink, the plates he'd failed to clean had done a terrific job of dispersing a thin layer of the stuff over everything within reach. It was the most god-awful sight he'd ever laid eyes on.

His mum was now just leaning on the work-top, breathing heavily as the last shreds of her illness faded away. She had nothing left inside save tears of shame and misery.

'I'm so sorry baby!' she wailed. 'I don't mean to be a bad mother. I'm so sorry.'

'Hey, it's okay,' said Ryan, helping her down onto one of the kitchen chairs.

'No it's not. You deserve better. I love you, you know.'

Ryan ignored her and headed into the utility room to fetch a bucket.

'A bit late for this, but just in case there's any more,' he said, giving it to her. He then went and fetched some kitchen roll and gently cleaned the mess off her left hand. It was not badly cut, but he put a plaster on it to make sure no more blood found its way into any of the other rooms.

'I love you baby,' she said again as he finished.

'Yeah, yeah, look; we need to get you upstairs. Can you help me please? I can't carry you.'

'No Ryan. You know I love you, don't you?'

'Yeah, I know.'

'Give us a kiss then.'

She puckered her lips, which were still moist with sick.

'You've got to be kidding me. Just get up will you?'

Using the table for support, she got to her feet, and with Ryan's assistance made her way upstairs to the master bedroom. That was as far as Ryan was prepared to go. Helping his mum undress for bed was beyond the call of duty, but luckily he was saved from making a choice on the matter when she simply flopped down on the bed and went straight to sleep.

Satisfied that she was going to be all right, Ryan headed back to his room to get his phone. While he had been helping her out, the thought had occurred to him that he had been given the opportunity to negotiate his way out of his punishment. All he needed was the proper leverage, which his mother had kindly provided. It was somewhat ironic that a camera phone would be the source and solution to all his problems.

He went back downstairs and began making a detailed photographic log of the carnage his mum had wrought. He started in the hallway, carefully making sure he got good, clear images of the broken glass on the floor, the shattered picture frame and the blood-stained light switch. There were also a few red finger marks on the wall where she had presumably missed several times before finally managing to flick the lights on.

When he was done he moved on to the kitchen, which was a far greater and much less pleasant task. Still, he needed all the back-up he could get, therefore every detail, from the smashed bowl of cereal to the vomit-filled sink, was logged. He even took a picture of his T-shirt, which was still damp in places from its disgusting shower. Then he crept back upstairs and quietly turned on his computer.

'That ought to do it,' he said quietly to himself, as he browsed through the fruits of his labour. The phone had taken some pretty reasonable images and he was certain that, come the morning, he would have no problem getting the rest of his cables returned to him.

He stopped on a picture of the sink which, although it was a grim sight, brought a strange pang of sorrow to him. His mum had known that she had done something bad and she was ashamed of herself. When the morning, or possibly the afternoon, arrived she would go downstairs and be faced with the battleground she had created, then would have to live through it all again. Something told Ryan that it wasn't right. She wouldn't do it to him. As she had said several times, she loved him, and despite his anger over the punishment she had administered over the Miss Ward incident, he loved her too. He couldn't let her go through the shame again. He would clean the place up.

With his leverage material safely stored on the computer, he headed back downstairs to make a start. There was no longer any point in him tiptoeing around, given his mother was passed out and probably wouldn't wake even if a tornado ripped through the house. Ryan fleetingly wondered what she might be dreaming, and which side of the mountain her dream would be flowing down, but his return to the kitchen swiftly focussed his mind on the job at hand.

It had to be said that in all Ryan's life he had barely lifted a finger around the house. He would never have called himself spoiled – although there were many who would beg to differ – but it was just that his mum usually kept the house so spotless that there was never anything to do. She even came in and dusted his room occasionally, and the only task allocated to him was keeping his stuff tidy. Which he didn't. After all, he was a boy.

However, despite his inexperience, he was blessed with a modicum of common sense which allowed him to figure out where all the detergents lived and what they were for. The labels such as 'Kitchen Cleaner' and 'Floor Polish' did give the game away somewhat. As much as he wanted to put off dealing with the sink for as long as possible, he needed it for running water, so he attacked it head-on, scrubbing every surface in the vicinity. From there, he worked his way across the work tops and down the cupboards, until any dirt that remained lay on the floor tiles. Then he got out the mop and bucket and finished the job.

He wasn't done there, though. With the kitchen completed, he headed out into the hall and picked all the glass up from the carpet. He removed the picture frame and dumped the broken shards from that into the bin. He also did his best with the blood-stains on and around the light switch and was surprised by how well it all came up. When he finally stood back and admired his handiwork, he had an unexpected feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment. It was confirmation that he had done the right thing.

It was close to three o'clock when, at last, he sloped off to bed. He knew he would be late getting to the Dream Isle, but it didn't matter. For once he'd done something for someone other than himself. And it felt good.
13

At first there was nothing but a pure white sheet spread out in front of him. It was everything and nothing at the same time; his entire world and an empty void. Then onto it the outline of a mountain started to be sketched, seemingly in pencil or charcoal. Little by little, its features were shaded in, giving it depth and form. Then came colour, working up from the golden sands, first in pastel shades and then in brilliant watercolour, filling the scene with joyous life. From the ground at Ryan's feet to the gleaming tip of the Spire, it was an image of true splendour. Even the lack of greenery could not detract from its beauty. Every time he laid eyes on it, there was more to admire.

Ryan stood on the beach and flexed his robotic joints experimentally. He was growing to really like his avatar, especially having seen what some of the other novice Dreamweavers had been stuck with. The angular features of his face were instantly recognisable as being him, but, at the same time, he felt it gave him a chiselled, manly appearance that he somewhat lacked in the real world. His squat torso was bulky, yet reasonably well defined and easier to carry around than a stone or two of fat. Then there was his apparent inability to grow fatigued, which was probably the biggest difference of all from real life. A small part of him was still not satisfied and yearned for the ability to fly, or to jump over mountains, or for him to be equipped with some cool gadgets or weaponry. But on the whole he was pretty happy.

He shifted his gaze from the distant Spire to the slopes that lay before him. There were several miles of rugged terrain for him to negotiate, but rather than baulking at the prospect he felt an unfamiliar urge to take up the challenge.

'After all,' he said to himself. 'If I can't grow tired then what's the big deal?'

And with that in mind, he set off at a steady jog. The soft sand, which would have sapped his energy in the real world, posed no problems and soon gave way to dry, hard-packed earth. Stones and clumps of dirt crumbled in a most satisfying way under-foot, and Ryan found that even when the land began to rise, his pace remained metronomic. Happily, the pain and exhaustion he would usually have been feeling, even after the slightest exertion, were blissfully absent.

He pounded up the mountainside, following the course of a different river from the one he had traced on his previous visit. Strangely, he found that he was really enjoying himself as he took in all his surroundings. When he was normally forced to go running the pain was always so great that he had little time to concentrate on anything else, and he would simply trudge along under a cloud of misery. He wondered whether the feeling of enjoyment was what pushed marathon runners to keep going for hours on end.

Whatever it was, it was truly liberating, and before he had even considered looking back to check his progress he rounded a corner and found the main gates of the Spire not a hundred yards ahead of him.

Stunned by how quickly and easily he had made the ascent, he stopped to admire the view for a few moments as a light breeze whipped swirls of dust into the air around him. Perhaps there was something to be gained from running after all.

He made his way up to the gates, passed under the high archway and arrived to find the terraces all but deserted. A ghostly man was pacing back and forth on the top step, mumbling softly to himself, while a bizarre figure with the torso of a woman and the four-legged body of a tiger was heading out along one of the walkways towards the outer wall.

'You okay there, son?' came a gruff voice behind him.

Its owner was a scruffy-looking border collie, with flashes of metal and sinew exposed within gaps in its patchy coat.

'Yeah, I'm good,' replied Ryan. 'It's a bit quiet here, isn't it?'

'You're new here, aren't you?'

Ryan nodded.

'This is what we call The Lull,' said the dog. 'It's a bit like the calm before the storm. You see, very shortly all the Dreamweavers from across the pond will start heading off to bed and this place will be overrun with Americans and the like.'

'So it's to do with time zones then?'

'That's right. There are fewer people falling asleep at this moment, while dusk makes its way across the Atlantic. You get the odd one or two showing up here and there; those who have gone to bed late, or early, or those who have been working unsociable shifts elsewhere in the world. What's your excuse?'

'Late night,' said Ryan simply. 'What's yours?'

'Ah, I'm a bit of a special case. I don't really have a role here. Not right now anyway. I've only recently come back to the fold, so to speak. You get me?'

'Not really,' said Ryan bluntly.

'Well, I used to be a Disruptor; an offensive Dreamweaver. One of the best, in fact. My job was to travel to the Nightmare Realm and wreak havoc on Rasputin's plans. Unfortunately I had some bad experiences and had to go away for a while to sort my head out.'

'What do you mean 'Go away'?' asked Ryan. 'I didn't think Dreamweavers had a choice about coming here.'

'Oh there are ways lad, trust me,' said the dog cryptically. 'Sadly they have a rather negative effect on your life in the real world, so it's a road that few choose to go down, if they can help it. I, for one, do not wish to go back to that way of life. I'm here and I'm ready to start afresh. In fact, I'm just off to see the chancellor to discuss my position.'

'Who? Rockwell?'

The dog gave a distasteful grunt.

'Him? God no. I'm off to see the _real_ head of this place, not the jumped-up second best. Elena Grimstone. You won't have met her yet, but she's really quite something, believe you me.'

'Never heard of her,' said Ryan dismissively.

'Of course you haven't,' said the dog, scratching at an exposed area of metal with his hind leg and making a sound that rather grated on Ryan's nerves. 'She's the boss, see? She doesn't really bother with the minor affairs of those below her, especially the training of newcomers. She's got far more important matters to attend to.'

'What, like talking to you?' Ryan was growing impatient.

'I'm not sure I like your tone,' growled the dog. 'I'll have you know that the two of us happen to be very close friends. Anyway, my point is that there's a lot for you still to discover about this place. They only let you know what you need to know and nothing more. If you ever need the low-down on what really goes on here, you know who to ask.'

He reached out with his right paw.

'Rex Bailey. Yeah, I know, a dog called Rex; how original. It's just a coincidence, right?' he smiled, baring his metal teeth.

'Ryan Butler,' said Ryan, shaking the proffered paw.

'Hmm, same initials,' said the dog thoughtfully. 'Well, I'm sure it must mean something. Anyway, I'm guessing you've got a class to go to?'

Ryan looked at the main doors to the Spire.

'Yeah, and I'm dead late,' he said.

'I wouldn't worry about that. Just get there before the Yanks arrive and take over the place.'

Ryan nodded.

'Cheers,' he said. 'I guess I'll see you around.'

'Right-o,' said Rex, wagging his tail. 'See you later.'

Ryan trudged up the terraces, past the ghostly man, who didn't appear to notice him in the slightest, and passed through the enormous glass doors. He turned to take one last look at Rex, but the dog had disappeared. Ryan shook his head. Once again questions were being posed far quicker than they were being answered.

Ryan found the others pretty much where he had left them the previous night. Having used the colours on the walls of the corridors to locate their training room, he found Katya and Moira sitting together on the benches, chatting.

'Hi guys,' he said, clumping over and sitting down next to them.

'Heya,' replied Moira, ruffling her feathers. 'Where've you been? Tristram's been wondering when you'd get here.'

'Oh, late night out with the boys. You know how it is,' he replied nonchalantly.

The girls looked at him with blank expressions.

'All right, so my mum was drunk and I was helping her out,' he said irately, getting up and heading over to the pool. The rest of the group were back on the hilltop looking like they were still working with their sticks. Ryan gave a quick glance over at the girls and then somersaulted in.

'Hi Ryan, what kept you?' asked Tristram as the boy popped into existence right next to him.

'Just stuff,' said Ryan. He suddenly realised that Isabella was close by and sucked his gut in as best he could. 'What are we doing anyway?'

'Same as yesterday,' Tristram replied. 'Some people haven't successfully managed a morph yet.'

'Oh right,' said Ryan, scrunching up his nose. 'So you want me to start throwing my stick again?'

'I'd rather you tried something new,' replied his tutor. 'Daisy's over there trying to vacuum up some dead leaves.'

He pointed to where Daisy Rose was holding a large stick in both hands and flourishing one end gracefully across the ground. As they watched, it suddenly changed into a length of plastic hose, and she started clearing the ground of leaves with great delight. A few moments later, she disappeared.

'She's progressing well,' observed Tristram. 'The only one who's anywhere near her is Teemu.'

'What? Has he been setting fire to stuff again?' asked Ryan, looking round for the anaemic Finn.

'A bit. But he's been doing other stuff too. He created a machete to hack down one of the trees. And a hatchet, too, for similar purposes. I think the boy has aggression issues.'

'Really? He seems so quiet.'

'They're the ones you want to watch out for,' replied Tristram. 'Perhaps he's got issues at school, or at home, that make him want to blend in. Hence his avatar.'

'Well, he's taken all my ideas,' said Ryan. 'I don't have a clue what else to do with a stick.'

'There's no harm in doing them too. Trust me, he's hardly the first person to try cutting down trees in a training exercise. But that would probably require the same emotion as throwing your javelin. You'd be better off broadening your horizons with something that doesn't require anger or aggression.'

'I'll give it a go,' said Ryan, suddenly noticing Sophie a short way off. He nodded goodbye to Tristram and headed over to her, pretending to be searching for a stick.

Sophie saw him approaching and smiled.

'Hey Ryan. I imagine you were wondering where I was today.'

'Actually, I think I already know,' he replied, returning her smile.

'Really?'

'Yeah. You were feeling a little peckish, right?'

'More than a little. How did you know that?'

'It happened to me as well. I thought I was going to die.'

'Me too! I managed to call out to my mum and she could see I wasn't well. She phoned the school and told them I wouldn't be coming in. Billy was the same, so I just assumed it was a stomach bug or something.'

'Nah, it's definitely something to do with this place. Dizz was like it too.'

'Was she?' asked Sophie, raising an eyebrow.

'Err, yeah... I saw her on the way in,' said Ryan, thinking quickly. 'Actually, I meant to ask Tristram about it.'

'Well, he's only over there,' said Sophie.

The two of them headed over to where Tristram was now having an animated conversation with Isabella. Suddenly the Italian girl cast her stick into the air with open palms and it turned into a pure white dove, which fluttered around the clearing before flying away into the distance.

'Wow,' said Sophie, watching it go.

'Not an easy one that,' called Tristram, turning away as Isabella disappeared and wandering over to them. 'Morphing something dead into something living is not straightforward.'

'Daisy did it yesterday,' said Ryan, and then kicked himself for bringing up her name again in Sophie's presence.

'You're right, she did,' said Tristram. 'But how are you two getting on?'

'All right,' said Ryan, conscious that Sophie was holding a stick and he wasn't. 'We've got a question for you actually.'

'Fire away,' smiled Tristram.

'Okay, so we all woke up this morning feeling hungry,' said Sophie. 'What's that about?'

' _Really_ hungry,' added Ryan for emphasis.

Tristram's face fell.

'Oh, bugger me, I totally forgot to tell you about that. It's pretty much the first thing I should have covered. You see, Dreamweaving is one of the best workouts your mind can have and as with any exercise it consumes energy. It's not like any other type of brain function; it really is a tough workout and without proper sustenance it's almost impossible to do. In fact, that's probably why you woke up when you did Ryan; after several successful morphs there was probably nothing left in the tank. For my part, I always sleep with a couple of chocolate bars and a bag of jelly babies next to my bed, just in case.'

'I could have done with those yesterday,' said Ryan. 'It took me about half an hour to reach the kitchen.'

'I'm so sorry,' said Tristram, hanging his head. 'I really should have told you; it just totally slipped my mind. You'll have lessons on nutrition before long, but it is important that you are at least made aware of it up front as it's the main side effect you'll experience. I'd best go and let the others know.'

And with that, he headed over to Frédéric, who still did not seem to be having much luck with Morphing.

'Well, that explains it then,' said Sophie, who was staring at Tristram's backside as it walked away from them.

'Yeah,' said Ryan, who most certainly was not looking at the same thing. 'Looks like I'll be ordering a mini-fridge for Christmas.'

'Hmm?' murmured Sophie, off in a world of her own – the only other occupant of which was Tristram.

'Oh forget it,' said Ryan moodily, and he went to find a stick.

He found a gnarled, dried out branch half-buried under a pile of leaves and spent a few minutes pacing around the knot of trees trying to work out what to do with it. There were very few of the others still around, so he had no one to pinch ideas from. He wondered whether they had succumbed to the same burning hunger he and his friends had experienced the night before.

A bluebottle buzzed lazily around his head and he swatted at it with the stick to ward it off. Ahead of him, Frédéric finally managed to achieve a morph and disappeared into thin air.

'Come on, think,' said Ryan out loud, annoyed at seeing someone else making progress.

The bluebottle zipped past him again and he waved it away angrily.

'Leave me alone will you, I'm trying to think!' he snarled.

The fly took no notice, banked sharply and headed straight back at him.

'Sod off you little git!' shouted Ryan, cocking his stick and pulling the trigger.

An ear-splitting crack rent the air across the hilltop, rattling between the tree trunks before escaping out into the world beyond. A thin plume of smoke rose nonchalantly from the muzzle of the shotgun Ryan had created. The bluebottle had been obliterated.

'Holy Chr...' was all he managed before he was ejected from the hilltop and found himself tumbling back into the training room. He landed in a heap at the feet of a large man with four arms who he hadn't seen before.

'You okay there, son?' came the smooth American accent.

'I'm not sure,' said Ryan. 'Do I look okay?'

'You look just fine,' drawled the man, offering out one of his two right hands.

Ryan went to take it, but the man moved it and presented the other. Ryan then made for that one, but found the first put forward again. This happened several times before the man, with a broad grin, let him take one of them and pulled him to his feet. Ryan did not find it particularly endearing.

There came a large splash and Tristram's majestic, winged form arrived in the room. There were gasps of wonder from an odd array of students seated on the benches, none of whom Ryan recognised. The four-armed American drew himself up and bristled at the new arrival.

'Ryan, are you all right?' asked Tristram, looking genuinely concerned and apparently not noticing the other occupants of the room.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' replied Ryan, flexing his fingers and rolling his neck experimentally.

Tristram relaxed.

'What the hell did you do?'

'There was a fly buzzing around my head, and it was really annoying me, so I blasted the crap out of it with a shotgun.'

Tristram's jaw dropped.

'Having trouble controlling your students, Ainsworth?' asked the American, stepping forward. Tristram appeared to notice him for the first time and threw the man a scowl.

'We're getting on just fine, thanks Swift,' he said curtly.

'I can see that,' replied the other man. 'Do excuse us; we haven't been properly introduced yet. Stanley Swift; Inductor and Protector. Skilled in Counter-weaving and Physical Evolution.'

'And modest to boot,' Ryan heard Tristram mutter.

Swift ignored the comment and offered a hand to Ryan. The boy looked at it and wondered whether he would have to go through the same nonsense again.

'Ryan Butler; creator of sharp objects and things that go _bang!_ ' he said, taking it at the second attempt – Swift clearly thought he needed a reminder of how many arms he had.

'So, you're becoming a weapons expert are you?' asked Swift, standing tall with both pairs of hands on his hips. 'Good for you, son. Better than this chump could manage, I'm sure.'

'Yeah, well I've been working on a 'weave to make your ego smaller, but I don't think even Rasputin would be capable of dealing with something that big,' said Tristram sarcastically.

'Well, let me know when one of you is up to it,' said Swift loftily, and he turned back to his class.

Tristram motioned for Ryan to leave the room and the two of them headed out into the bright, airy walkway, down two flights of steps and out into the fresh air.

'What about the others?' asked Ryan.

'You're the last of the group,' smiled Tristram. 'Everyone else has woken up. You had a late start tonight.'

'Sorry about that. My mum... oh never mind. Let's just say my evening turned a bit crap.'

'Domestic trouble?' asked Tristram, spreading his wings and letting the breeze ruffle his dark feathers.

'Something like that. Who was that idiot anyway?'

Tristram chuckled.

'That idiot, as you put it, was in my class when I was learning to Dreamweave. You could say we had a bit of a rivalry going on.'

'A bit?'

'Okay, a lot. We were good at similar things, you see. Both of us perform the same role here; we teach newcomers and help protect the isle from Rasputin's raiders.

'So is he better at it than you?'

Tristram laughed again.

'Hardly, although I'm sure that's exactly what you'd expect me to say. Stan's got a big mouth and isn't afraid to use it. That's not to say he isn't skilful in what he does. He's just not as good as he'd have you believe, otherwise he would be running this place by now.'

'Did you put him in his place? Is that why he doesn't like you?'

'Kind of. Showed him up; that would be a better way of putting it. When the evidence is there for everyone to see they are free to make up their own minds. He still happily talks himself up, and luckily our paths don't cross that often. We're never going to be best of friends and I think we both like it that way.'

'It's funny,' said Ryan. 'You seem to get on so well with everyone else.'

Tristram smiled. 'Everyone should have a nemesis. Do you?'

Ryan scratched his tin head and thought for a moment.

'I'm not sure,' he said eventually. 'I don't think so.'

'Really? You mean there isn't someone at school who's taunted and teased you from day one. Or someone who always seems to do better than you at everything?'

'Well there's Harry Hopkins, but he just picks on everyone, so I don't think I'm particularly special. Do I really need one?'

'I just find a bit of rivalry always helps to bring out the best in me,' said Tristram. 'It helps me to push myself. And we should always be looking to do that, no matter how old or experienced we are. If anyone ever tells you they are too old to learn something new, whatever it may be, then they are a fool. It's never too late to learn.'

'Yes master,' said Ryan in a husky voice. He placed his palms together in front of him and bowed from the waist.

'You sarcastic little git,' said Tristram, laughing loudly. 'You know, it's nice to meet someone like you Ryan; someone who doesn't take things too seriously. You will certainly meet a few characters here, some of whom will seem a bit stuck up and self-important. By all means learn from this place, but don't let it change you the way it has them.'

'Yes master,' said Ryan again, repeating the action.

'All right, all right, I get the message. No more lectures, I promise.'

They chatted a while longer about their respective school experiences and eventually Ryan found Tristram harder and harder to focus on. He rubbed his eyes but, before he knew it, another night had passed and the real world beckoned.
14

Ryan awoke to only a mildly angry tummy that morning, having performed only a solitary 'weave that night. It came as quite a welcome relief after what had been a rather difficult Friday. He lay flat on his back as raindrops pelted the skylight above him. The alarm clock on the cabinet next to him declared that it was a little after ten thirty, though the lack of light coming through his windows nearly fooled him into thinking it was not yet dawn. It was okay; he had a while until he was due to meet up with his mates. There was no doubt that his mum would let him hang out with them after last night.

Dear God, his mum; what sort state would she be in when she woke up? He lay there for a while feeling smugly satisfied that his efforts the previous night would pay off and expecting any minute for breakfast in bed to arrive.

When eleven thirty came and went without any sign of her Ryan began to get annoyed. He eventually got up and stomped out of his room to find out what she was playing at. Arriving on the landing, he found the door to her room steadfastly shut.

'Oh for crying out loud,' he muttered under his breath. 'And you call _me_ lazy.'

Ryan had never experienced a hangover, but he was sure that it couldn't be that bad. Resigned to the fact that breakfast was going to be what he made of it, he headed downstairs and began to work on the mother of all fry-ups.

The smell of his cooking seemed to do the trick, for just as he had sat down to a triple egg butty with bacon, sausages and onions, his mum appeared at the kitchen door. She was accompanied by a full helping of bed hair and a dressing gown showing off slightly more than Ryan would have liked.

'Oh baby, you did breakfast!' she said with a weak smile, heading over and planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. 'How thoughtful of you.'

The reek of booze was still tangible.

'Put it away mum. Jesus, I'm trying to eat,' said Ryan irately, wiping off the kiss. She looked down and then hurriedly tightened the gown.

'I hope I didn't wake you last night,' she added.

Ryan's butty stopped an inch short of his mouth and then slowly returned to his plate.

'Wake me?' he repeated. 'Mum, you tore the house to pieces.'

She stopped with one hand on the fridge door and looked at him as though he was speaking a foreign language.

'What are you talking about, honey? The place looks fine.'

'That's because I spent half the night clearing up after you,' he said angrily. 'Jeez, don't you remember throwing your guts up in here?'

The strange look remained fixed on her face.

'Babe, I've no idea what you are talking about. Granted, I feel a little worse for wear this morning, but I'm not that bad.'

'Right. Wait here,' said Ryan firmly, heading upstairs to fetch his phone. 'And for your information it's now the afternoon,' he called from the landing.

By the time he got back his mum was tucking into the remnants of the fry-up that he had not been able to fit into his sandwich.

'Mmm, this is great darling; just what I needed,' she said through a mouthful of bacon. There was no doubting that Mrs Butler was an attractive woman, but this was hardly her finest moment.

Ryan sat down as close to her as he could stomach and tried to assume the same tone she usually adopted when he'd been up to no good. He opened the stored image folder on his phone and flicked back to a picture of the hallway.

'Right, let's start from the top, shall we?' he said.

His mother peered over with interest.

'At approximately half past midnight this morning you returned home.' Ryan was doing his best to recount it with the unwavering certainty of a TV detective. It wasn't a great success, but it amused his mum. That was, until she saw the photo. 'On entering the property you attempted to turn on the hall light so you could see what you were doing. You missed.'

The images of the shattered portrait and the bloodied glass on the floor seemed to hit his mum like a thunderbolt. She sat back, staring at the plaster on her hand, as the fragmented memories began to piece themselves back together.

'Oh my God,' she mouthed, slowly turning to Ryan with a look of unmitigated horror in her eyes.

'Indeed,' said Ryan stoutly, trying to maintain his stoic demeanour. 'I'm afraid it gets worse from here on. Having finally managed to work the lights, you suddenly realised just how hungry you were feeling. So you made your way here, to the kitchen, to make yourself something to eat.'

'Don't...' cried his mum, putting up her hands and turning away as he made to show her the image of the smashed bowl on the floor. She gave a small sob, and Ryan knew that he no longer needed the phone.

When she eventually turned back, her eyes were moist and her cheeks streaked with the remnants of her mascara. She looked at him with such helplessness that Ryan's resolve broke, and he reached forward and hugged her. It was something he hadn't done for a long time; not since realising that showing outward affection to one's parents was not cool. He didn't care now. Anyone could have been watching and he would not have felt ashamed. It was just like the moment the previous evening when a rarely used emotion had triggered and he had made the decision to clean her mess up. He loved his mum too much to see her go through such pain.

'I'm so sorry,' he heard her sob into his T-shirt.

Ryan wasn't really used to dealing with someone so distraught. A couple of pats on the back and a 'there, there,' did not seem to do it justice. Still, that was all he could think of, so he did it anyway.

After a while his mum seemed to regain herself a little and she sat up. Taking him by the shoulders, she looked deep into his eyes as tears continued to carve deep furrows down her cheeks.

'Ryan, honey. I am so, so sorry. I... I just don't know what to say. For you to see that... to put you through it... I'm such a terrible, terrible mother.'

'No Mum...'

'Yes I am, I'm crap at it. I haven't been looking after you properly or spending any quality time with you. I've just given you all this to deal with.'

'Mum, Mum seriously, it's okay. I'm fourteen years old. I don't want to spend quality time with you. I just want you to cook me dinner and clean my clothes like any other boy my age.'

He gave her a weak smile, which she returned.

'I haven't even been doing that, though, have I?' she murmured.

'Well, it would be nice to see you sometimes. Not a lot. Just a bit. We both miss Dad, but it's up to us to make the best of it.'

The mention of his father brought a fresh flood of tears.

'Oh Ryan, I am so bad. I don't deserve you, either of you. I'm just a horrible, horrible person.'

Ryan was starting to regret opening a can of such pitiful, self-loathing worms.

'Mum, get a grip. You were just drunk. It happens to everyone at some point, I'm sure.'

'But you don't understand...'

'Mum, seriously. Just give me my stuff back and we'll call it quits, eh? Dad won't have to know about either of us, will he?'

She stared forlornly at his stern face for some moments before her self-pity finally subsided.

'Okay babe. After all the clearing up you must have done I can hardly say no to that, can I? It sounds like I'm getting a bargain.' She gave the best smile that she could.

'The photo in the hallway needs a new frame,' said Ryan gravely, suppressing the delight building up inside him as he watched his mum head out into the utility room and emerge a few moments later carrying his bundle of cables.

'And you'll get rid of all the photos?' she asked as she put them down on the table.

'Every last one,' replied Ryan. 'Look; all gone.'

He waved the phone in front of her, the screen blank. She would never have known whether or not he was telling the truth. In actual fact he _had_ really deleted them. After all, he had copies safely stored on his computer. Just in case.

Another upshot of Ryan's ploy was that his mum had no qualms over letting him see his friends that afternoon. In fact, she even went as far as offering him a lift there, which he accepted as graciously as he could manage, figuring he might as well make the most of it while the going was good.

For Ryan, Saturdays were often spent up at the leisure centre in town, doing his best to get one up on his mates in the presence of girls their age. It was hardly a place that exuded class – an ugly, garish sprawl built on top of an old landfill site – but that was not something that bothered kids Ryan's age in the slightest. It had a cinema, bowling alley and arcades, but the main attraction for the boys was the ice rink, which ran a disco session during the afternoon. It was like a magnet for gaggles of girls in their early teens, most of whom were hopeless skaters. But that was part of the draw; it was a chance for the boys to show off their skills in the hope that one of them would take the bait.

Ryan and his mates had been going there for a while and were all good skaters, though while their lines had been cast on plenty of occasions, their bite-rate was pretty dismal.

However, this was the last thing on Ryan's mind as he dug out his skates and made for the front door. Aside from a week or so of detention, the Miss Ward incident was now well and truly behind him and his fortress was back up to full strength. He would enjoy wowing Jack and the others with how he had managed to get his punishment overturned so quickly.

He was so wrapped up in his own glory that as he opened the front door and stepped outside he almost walked straight through Daisy, who was just reaching for the doorbell. He took evasive action and spun off the porch, nearly tearing down a load of climbing plants in the process.

'Jeez Dizz,' he exclaimed, disentangling himself from the greenery.

'Hi Ryan,' she replied airily, giggling at his misfortune. 'How are you feeling? I didn't see you last night. I hope what I said when we were preparing dinner didn't scare you off. You seemed a little distant after that.'

In actual fact, Ryan had barely had a chance to give it a second thought. Already it seemed an age ago and a great deal had happened since. He had banished Daisy's comments to a deep, dark corner of his mind, for retrieval and consideration at a more appropriate time. If he could even be bothered.

'I had a late night Dizz. By the time I arrived most of you guys had gone.'

'Oh. So you're not mad with me then?'

Ryan frowned.

'Why should I be mad at you?'

'Oh don't worry. As long as you're not, that's fine.'

'Dizz, you're not making any sense,' said Ryan.

_For a change_ , added a voice in his head.

'Oh, it's okay. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Fancy a walk in the woods?'

'Sorry, I'm off skating,' he replied thankfully, holding up his skates.

At that moment the door slammed shut behind him.

'You sure you've got everything, my love?' came his mum's voice as she locked it. 'Oh hello Daisy. Are you coming along too?'

_Noooooo!_ screamed the voice in Ryan's head. _Mum, what are you doing to me?_

'Oh no, I was just seeing if Ryan wanted to come for a walk with me,' said Daisy, as honest and to the point as ever.

Ryan's mum gave him a look that seemed to suggest that a walk sounded like a really nice idea. He returned it with one that said something along the lines of: _Like hell it does!_

'Maybe tomorrow then?' suggested Daisy, sensing their subliminal interaction.

'Tomorrow would be lovely,' smiled Ryan's mum, stepping off the porch and heading for the garage. Ryan felt so subordinated that he didn't know what to say. He just nodded at Daisy and scurried off to the car.

'Tomorrow then,' he heard her call after him.

Jack and Gibbo were already lacing up their boots by the time Ryan arrived at the rink. After queuing for a ticket, Ryan bagged himself a locker for his gear and went and joined them.

'Where've you been?' asked Jack as he sat down. 'Was detention a bit longer than expected?'

'Nah, I was with your mum,' said Ryan, slackening off the laces on his boots.

Jack and Gibbo both laughed.

'That only works with your mum,' said Jack, punching him on the arm. 'Anyone can see that she's the only one who looks half decent.'

'And the only one we'd actually have a chance with,' added Gibbo.

Ryan flashed him a dangerous glare.

'What? I'm just saying...'

'I'm gonna kill you in the speed session later,' said Ryan, pulling his boots on. 'And for your information my mum's not like that. Actually she saw fit to give me my stuff back earlier.'

'Really?' asked Jack. 'How'd that happen? I was surprised she even let you come here.'

'Oh, you know, the same sort of charm that Sophie finds so appealing.'

'It can't be exactly the same because it actually worked,' replied Jack, as they all got up and headed for the ice.

'Are you two still obsessing over her?' sneered Gibbo. 'When are you going to wake up and see that she's a lost cause? Now, keep an eye out would you? Steph said she'd be coming down.'

Jack threw Ryan a knowing wink.

'Hey Gib,' he said. 'Anyone ever told you that you might be barking up the wrong tree with that one too?'

'Yeah, a well worn tree,' added Ryan.

Gibbo shoved him into the barrier and then sprinted out onto the ice. Jack and Ryan gave chase.

As far as disco sessions went, it was a little less impressive than usual, to start with at least. Either everyone's parents were clamping down on them with exam time looming, or most of the kids their age had blown their allowances over the bank holiday. Either way, it was slim pickings all round for the first hour. The three boys messed around together as the dance anthems blared and the lights spun and wheeled over the ice. Then, all of a sudden, Gibbo grabbed Ryan by the arm as he swept past and pointed across the rink.

'Looks like the Bandit's arrived,' he grinned.

Ryan looked over to the entrance kiosk and, sure enough, Dazza was just walking through the turnstile with his younger sister, Sharon, in tow. The two boys sped over to the far side and pulled up in unison, spraying a shower of ice high up the barrier.

'All right Dazza, all right Shazza!' shouted Gibbo, making them both jump.

Dazza immediately looked like he wished he was elsewhere. It was the first time any of them, even Gibbo, had seen him since the night round Ryan's house, and there were questions to be answered. They left the ice and headed over to meet him, closely followed by Jack. The venue was starting to fill up with families and couples in their mid-to-late teens, and the seating area was packed.

'Before you start; has anyone got a locker I can share?' Dazza asked. 'All the others are taken.'

'I think you already owe me enough favours,' said Ryan, sounding more irate than he was actually feeling.

Dazza looked pleadingly at Gibbo.

'All right,' said his friend eventually. 'But when Steph shows up she's taking your place.'

'Which will be never, so you're fine,' grinned Jack, finding it all most amusing.

Sharon had already donned her rental boots and disappeared into a flock of girls her own age, leaving the boys to grill Dazza as to his whereabouts.

'Right Bandit; what happened to you after Wednesday?' asked Ryan accusingly. 'Don't you know what a storm of crap you whipped up for us by taking that photo?'

'Of course I do. Why'd you think I've been skipping school?'

'We had that pretty much figured,' said Jack. 'So what happened?'

'Well, when I saw the list of people Gib had sent that photo to I knew there would be trouble. My mum came into my room in the morning screaming that the school had called and woken her up. She just gave me the usual: swore a lot and told me how much grief she gets because of me, and that was it. She didn't ground me or nothing, so instead of heading to school I just hung around the skate park all day.'

'And Friday?' asked Jack, regarding him with a small degree of distaste.

'Same,' shrugged Dazza.

'Well, I hope with all that time there you got some new moves down,' said Gibbo, seemingly less concerned about the actual skiving and more about whether he'd spent it well.

'Yeah mate, I'll show you later,' smiled Dazza.

'Hang on a minute,' said Ryan indignantly. 'I got two weeks of detention because of you.'

'Well, you were the one who suggested putting it on the computer in the first place,' replied Dazza.

'And you _were_ the star of the show,' put in Jack.

'Yeah, but _he_ took the photo and Gibbo sent it round, yet they've got nothing.'

'We all appreciate your selflessness,' said Jack gravely, patting him on the back. 'You're a martyr and a hero, and we salute you.'

All three of them threw mock salutes.

'Bloody traitors,' grumbled Ryan.

From that point on things really livened up. With the four horsemen reunited they were back to their usual ways: zipping round the ice after one another and terrorising the unsteady beginners clinging to the outer barrier.

'Can you imagine Bambi Richards doing this?' Ryan called out to Jack across the ice, before doing his best new-born deer impression.

Jack burst into such a fit of laughter that he collided with the barrier and went straight over the top of it. This earned him a warning from one of the rink stewards.

After a while it was time for the speed session, where the more experienced skaters got to strut their stuff on freshly groomed ice. All four lads saw this as a prime opportunity to prove once and for all who was best, and they lapped the rink as fast as possible while the music grew louder and the lights spun quicker. The testosterone on display was almost enough to melt the ice, yet despite their best efforts none of them could keep up with Jack. He drifted round backwards faster than anyone else, and with half the effort. He just seemed to have an annoying knack for being good at that sort of thing.

As he cruised past Ryan for what must have been the tenth time, he called out above the music, 'Looks like Steph did make it.'

Ryan's eyes flicked along the sides of the rink until he spotted her.

'Oh yeah,' he called back. 'I guess Gibbo wasn't lying for once.'

'You seen who's with her?' asked Jack, carving across in front of Ryan with irritating ease.

'Nope.'

Ryan waited until he had circulated again and took a good look. His heart sank.

'Oh crap, it's Double H,' he shouted. 'Should we tell him?'

Jack just raised his open arms to say he didn't have a clue.

'Someone needs to,' said Ryan, and pulled into one of the longest hockey stops he'd ever done, which lasted nearly half the length of the rink.

For the briefest moment he thought about how sweet it must have looked and hoped a few girls had been watching. A second later Gibbo zipped past him giving him two thumbs up.

'Gib...' shouted Ryan, but his friend was already well past him.

Ryan did his best to keep up, but unfortunately Gibbo chose that moment to realise what it was that Ryan was trying to tell him. The results were not pretty.

Gibbo immediately caught an edge and, in an attempt to save himself, grabbed hold of a much older guy who happened to be cruising past. The two of them became locked in a fateful tryst as they struggled to regain control of their entangled feet. It took only a second for the barrier to come into play; the two of them colliding with it so heavily that the impact could be heard above the sound of the music.

Almost immediately a scuffle broke out, and Ryan and the others piled in. They did their best to haul the guy off Gibbo, who seemed to have taken the man-sized portion of the impact and was struggling to work out which way was up. Then came the guy's mates, all of whom were bigger than them, and in the end it took almost every steward in the venue to break it up.

That effectively ended the speed session, and both groups were banished to either side of the rink to calm down. In any case, Gibbo was in need of a breather. However, his recovery was not aided by the fact that Stephanie and Harry were now on the ice and lapping together, holding hands.

'I don't understand where I went wrong,' he said.

'You snagged your outside edge,' said Jack, handing him a can of Coke from the vending machine.

'No, I meant her,' moaned Gibbo, holding the can up against the fast-growing lump on the back of his head.

'Mate, you didn't do anything,' said Dazza. 'Everyone knows what she's like.'

'That's what we've been trying to tell him,' said Ryan. 'He just won't bloody listen.'

'Seriously Gib, do you really want to get involved with a bird that Harry 'Scumbag of the Year' Hopkins has had his hands all over?' asked Dazza.

'And God knows what else,' added Jack. 'We're not trying to be tossers here; we're just looking out for you as friends. Even me, and I hate you.'

'I hate you too,' said Gibbo with a weak smile.

'Good,' nodded Jack. 'That sounds like the Scotty Gibson I know.'

Gibbo brightened.

'I guess you guys are right. There's plenty of talent left here, ain't there? Hey Butler, I'm surprised half the chicks in this room aren't gagging for you after that slide. That was awesome!'

'Yeah, well maybe if you losers weren't crowding me they'd get a look in,' said Ryan, sticking out his chest with pride.

'All right Romeo, we'll leave you to them,' said Jack. 'Come on you guys. And Gib, try not to knock over anyone who's bigger than you. Or who has big mates. You might not be so lucky next time.'

The session continued for another hour or so, and it proved to be just as eventful. Firstly, the guy Gibbo had knocked down came over, initially feigning friendliness, and told him he'd be waiting outside when the session was over. That was enough to take all of the remaining wind out of Gibbo's sails, and he cut an ever more downcast figure as he continued to slowly lap the rink. On top of that, the moment Stephanie McMahon headed for the ladies room Harry Hopkins made a bee-line for Ryan. Fortunately, Harry was by far the inferior skater and Ryan managed to evade him for the entirety of Steph's comfort break. As the couple sloped off for a snog in the corner, Jack slid over to Ryan's side.

'Nice work evading the big Double H,' he grinned. 'You know, that nickname just represents the size of his man-boobs.'

Ryan almost wet himself laughing.

'I think you're right. Hey look; his are even bigger than Steph's.' He pointed at the repulsive display going on in the corner.

'That's hardly difficult, is it?'

'No, I guess not. Hey, you seen Sophie from the side recently? She's getting a cracking pair.'

His friend looked uneasy for a second while he considered.

'You know, I don't think they're all that big. Now, Louise Chapman; that's another matter. That girl is probably taller when she's lying on her back.'

That comment sent Ryan off into fits of laughter again.

Slowly the session wound down to a close, but the boys continued to squeeze every last ounce of amusement out of it. This was partly because Gibbo had no desire to leave the place in a hurry and partly because it had proven to be a pretty fruitless afternoon for them on the pulling front. The only one of them to receive any sort of attention was Jack, but he just waved it away, seemingly intent on saving himself for better things. Even more annoyingly, Dazza's sister appeared to have paired off with a lad from the year below them.

'He's a whole year older than her!' he cried, as the others restrained him from going over and splitting them up.

'So?' said Ryan. 'Don't tell me you've never eyed up someone outside our year group.'

'Yeah but, well, she's my sister, innit?'

'Isn't she, you mean,' corrected Jack.

'What are you, a dictionary or something?' said Dazza irately. 'Anyway Butler, you don't know what it's like. You ain't got no brothers or sisters.'

Jack opened his mouth again, but Dazza pushed him away.

'I just don't want her taken advantage of.'

'You're right,' shrugged Ryan. 'But just because you couldn't pull to save your life, doesn't mean you should stop her.'

'Well, I don't see you doing any better, Mr Fifty-Foot Hockey Stop.'

'Yeah, what happened about that?' asked Jack. 'I thought we were leaving you alone to work your magic.'

'They just didn't come over. I got eyes from loads of girls, but none of them followed it up.'

'Okay, so by 'loads' you mean one or two at best. And if they did then why didn't you go over and talk to them?'

'What?'

The other three exchanged amused glances.

'And you were giving _me_ a hard time,' sniggered Dazza.

'Ryan, you can't expect a girl to just fall into your hands. They expect a bit of a chase first,' said Jack.

'Really?'

'Of course. You know, you really should have come on that French exchange trip last term. It was a real eye-opener; taught me all I need to know. Seriously, this is the sort of ignorance I'd expect from Gib.'

'Hey!'

Jack turned to him and smiled.

'All right there Gibbo? I thought we'd lost you there for a while. Something on your mind?'

The others laughed.

'Shut it you lot,' he growled. 'You know that geezer is going to be waiting outside with all his mates. How would you be feeling?'

'To be honest, that guy's mummy has probably already picked him up and taken him home for his tea,' said Jack. 'I really wouldn't worry about it.'

'You reckon?' said Gibbo, brightening slightly.

'Sure. If anyone should be bricking it, it should be Ryan. Did you see old Double H trying to hunt him down earlier?'

'Yeah, that was funny as hell,' laughed Dazza. 'He couldn't get near you, could he?'

'Nope,' beamed Ryan, giving him a high-five. 'Probably means double the beatings on Monday, but never mind.'

'Just pack out your uniform with newspaper,' said Jack. 'That should soften the blows.'

'Like there's any room in his uniform for that!' cried Gibbo.

The mood continued to be bright and breezy as they removed their boots and retrieved their stuff from the lockers. By the time they left the rink the threats made to Gibbo were a distant memory, and they headed over to some rather dishevelled pool tables next to the bowling alley while they plotted their next moves.

'Sorry guys, I'm going to have to be a let-down on this one tonight,' declared Jack as they struggled to figure out why there were two black balls on the table.

'Why?' asked Ryan indignantly. He belted the white ball so hard that it leapt off the table and slammed into a nearby vending machine. He received sarcastic applause from the others.

'Err... it's a family thing,' said Jack uneasily. 'Rubbish excuse, I know. But I'm afraid that's it. I'm sure you'll be the same next week when your dad gets back.'

He had a point, so Ryan did not bother to argue the case.

'How about you pair?' he asked.

'Reckon we'll head down to the skate park,' said Dazza, looking over at Gibbo, who nodded.

'You bunch of lame buggers,' said Ryan, who could neither skate nor ride a BMX to any decent standard.

'Butler, you should get yourself a pair of roller blades and come on down,' said Dazza. 'You'd be easily good enough to keep up with some of the girls.'

'Thanks. I'll bear that in mind.'

The afternoon began to fizzle out and Jack headed home, but there was still enough time for Ryan to take a look round some of the shops in town. He walked down the hill with Dazza and Gibbo; the three of them making fun of Jack in his absence.

When they reached the town centre the other two left him to browse through the selections of music and games, though he knew full-well that he could get them all cheaper online. Still, he managed to plan out his next few purchases and even went as far as mentally earmarking which of his old games would have to be sacrificed to make way for the new.

After a while the shops began to close and the hordes of people began to disperse. Like the rest of them, Ryan had little better to do than to head on home. He got out his mobile and tried to ring his mum for a lift, but the line was engaged and he was reluctantly forced to make the walk back on his own. In truth, it was not much further than the walk back from school – he actually passed the gates on his way – and the biggest surprise was that he did not bump into Daisy as he went. After the past week it felt unusual for him not to have to say goodbye to her as he reached her gate, but he wasn't particularly bothered. His mum had already signed him up for a walk in the woods the following day and that would be enough.

When he walked through the front door he could hear his mum talking away on the phone. Interestingly, the volume level dropped dramatically when she heard the front door slam shut. Ryan stuck his head into the lounge to formally announce his return and she gave him a wave. Using a rather stilted version of sign language, he managed to establish that he had about an hour until dinner. He dumped his ice skates in the cupboard under the stairs and headed up to his room. He flicked on every electronic device he owned when he got there, as he couldn't decide which one to use first.

With music blaring from his stereo, and some new tracks downloading from the internet, he settled down to cause some mindless carnage on his games console while he waited for dinner to arrive. Ryan was surprisingly good at keeping himself amused, although being an only child had given him plenty of practice. While his parents did spoil him, Ryan made the most of the things he had. The majority of his toys had been all but worn out when he was younger, and most of the games in his possession had been completed. Only those with a good degree of replayability he retained, while the rest were recycled through the shops in town, or online.

After an hour had passed with still no sign of dinner, he began to sort through his collection and made a pile of those he planned to trade in. Many were only a few months old; Christmas gifts that had been blitzed through, some in a single sitting. Out with the old and in with the new; Ryan's thumbs needed a new challenge.

Just as he was finishing his mum called him for dinner, having finally prised the phone away from her ear. She'd cooked him a fresh pizza from scratch, which was one of his favourites. The bases she made always tasted awesome and she had seen fit to stack it with as much meat as possible. Ryan couldn't help but admire it. To him it was a work of art. Sadly, in his hands it was destined to have a very short life span.

The meal did not last long, but it was the first time they had eaten at the dining room table since Easter and, though very little conversation passed between them, it was time well spent. His mum had made herself a more vegetable-orientated pizza and Ryan politely waited until she had finished it before leaving the table. Neither of them had room for pudding, but Ryan was told that there was ice cream in the freezer for when he fancied it.

It had been a good evening. Neither of them had tried too hard to push the reconciliatory process any faster than had it wanted to go. Both had made mistakes and both had come through them with a new-found respect for the other. That night, as Ryan turned in for bed with the tub of ice cream half eaten, he felt a remarkable sense of peace wash over him. Life wasn't so bad really; troublesome teen by day, adventurer by night. Everything appeared to be going swimmingly for him. A week or so of detention was just a smudge on an otherwise perfect picture. It was all good.
15

Once again the rugged landscape of the Dream Isle began to form in Ryan's mind. He watched as it lazily drew itself onto the canvas of his sub-conscious, fascinated by how familiar the different features of the terrain were becoming.

_Hang on a second_ , he thought as the sandy beach started filling in around his shiny feet. _I don't want to be here. It's quite a hike up to the Spire._

Almost as soon as he'd thought it the image shifted, erasing what had been drawn and sketching out a different landscape, depicting a spectacular view out across one side of the island. As Ryan turned his head he saw the sheer outer wall of the Spire rising up behind him.

_That's more like it_ , he thought. _Much better than walking up, even though I do seem able to run around here without getting tired._

He let the picture finish itself off and savoured the glorious vista for a few moments, marvelling at the simplistic beauty of the vast sea surrounding the bleak island. Then he headed into the tower.

He found his class in the same training room as before, located in the yellow octant of the Spire. Most of the students were already there and he made a mental note to get more early nights so that he didn't miss out on any of Tristram's teachings – such a train of thought would have been unheard of at school.

'Ah Ryan, good to see you,' said Tristram, as he sat down on one of the benches.

Ryan nodded his acknowledgement.

'As I was saying,' said Tristram, picking up his previous thread. 'Since most of you are starting to get the hang of Morphing we're going to move on to our second lesson, which involves a technique that is known as Dialling In.'

Ryan looked round at the group. Daisy and Moira both gave him a wave. Earl gave him a nod. Billy ignored him as usual.

_Where's Soph?_ he thought. She was the only remaining absentee.

'It's a weird name, I know,' continued Tristram. 'But trust me; though it may not be the most exciting thing you learn to do here, it's certainly one of the most useful. The basic idea is for you guys to be able to control whereabouts on the island you appear, so that you don't have to hike up the hill every time you arrive. I understand this will be more useful to some than others, but once it becomes second nature you'll wonder how you ever got by without it.'

'He's right,' said Ryan nonchalantly. 'I did it just now and it was much quicker than running up.'

Every pair of eyes turned on him; some surprised, some impressed and one pair in particular, cynical. He looked round the group and began to wish he had kept quiet. No-one liked a smart-arse at school.

'What?' he shrugged.

'Did you Ryan?' asked Tristram. 'Did you really just Dial In to here?'

'I don't know. I think so. It was very similar to what you just said anyway. I saw that a beach was appearing in front of me and I decided that wasn't where I wanted to be, so I ended up outside the tower.'

Tristram's eyes grew almost as wide as the smile on his face.

'That's it Ryan! That's exactly it! You just Dialled In to the Spire without even being taught it. Wow!'

Ryan gave a doubtful smile as several admiring glances were thrown his way.

You think that was impressive? You guys didn't see my hockey stop earlier today, he thought.

'It just felt natural,' he said out loud. 'I didn't want to be where I was being put so I chose some place else. It's no big deal.'

'You're right; it's not,' said Tristram. 'At least, not to someone who has been 'weaving for a while. For you to do it of your own accord though, that's incredible!'

Ryan was beginning to feel like he had the first time he'd taken a pee standing up; so much praise for something that was really not that interesting. Daisy, in particular, was wide-eyed with admiration and smiling as if it was the last use her facial muscles were ever going to get.

He shrugged again.

'Okay, so I rock. That's hardly news, is it?'

Billy rolled his eyes and turned away in disgust, but Tristram chuckled.

'Well, yes, in this instance, I guess you do,' he smiled.

He opened his mouth to say something further, but at that moment the door to the training room opened and in strode Ulysses Rockwell. They had been expecting Sophie, so to see his burly, beclawed form came as quite a surprise. He cast the briefest of looks around the room and then fixed his stern gaze on Tristram.

'Ainsworth; a word, if I may,' he said curtly.

Tristram got up without reply and headed to the door. The two of them spoke in whispers for a few moments and then Rockwell disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. For a moment Tristram appeared at a loss; torn between his class and some pressing matter beyond his control. Eventually he came to some sort of decision.

'Guys, I'm really sorry about this, but I am needed elsewhere urgently so we are going to have to suspend the lesson. The hilltop dream is still circulating in the pool, so if you could all head there and continue your Morphing practice, I'll get back as soon as I can.'

There were downcast looks from several members of the group; the stick exercise was starting to become quite tiresome.

'I'm really sorry,' said Tristram again. 'Honestly, I'll be back ASAP, I promise.'

With that he left the room and closed the door behind him. Without a moment's thought, Ryan got to his feet and made to follow.

'Where are you off to, Butler?' asked Billy, the scathing tone of his voice cutting into Ryan.

'Isn't it obvious?' he snarled, rounding on him. 'This is about your sister and I'm going to help.'

Billy looked at the others incredulously.

'Okay firstly, how in God's name could you possibly know that?' he scoffed. 'And secondly, what could an imbecile like you do to help these people? You've got nothing to bring to the table.'

Ryan fought desperately to quell the raging beast that erupted inside him, begging to be set free and tear Billy apart.

'Right Bambi, first off I would rather be proved wrong about this than be right and done nothing about it. I don't need to explain myself to you. I just know, okay? Secondly, I just Dialled In without even being taught. I've got skills you couldn't even dream of, so I'm going to make use of them. I know you don't get on with her so I'm not expecting your assistance. In fact, I'd rather not have it.'

With those words he flung open the door and headed out into the corridor. Heading out onto the wide balcony he cast around to see where Tristram had gone. He peered over the railing, but there was no sign of him in the terraced courtyard below.

_Bugger_ , he thought.

Then he caught sight of a winged shape heading out almost directly above the main gates.

_Double bugger_ , he added. _How the hell am I supposed to keep up with that?_

He dashed back into the corridor and almost ran straight through Daisy in his eagerness to catch Tristram up.

'Ryan!' she cried. 'I'm coming with you, but you'll have to carry me otherwise I won't be able to keep up.'

He looked her waif-like form up and down.

'Jump on and hold tight,' he nodded.

Heading back out onto the balcony, he decided to put to the test a thought that had been growing in his mind for a while. With barely a pause to consider what he was doing, he grabbed the railing with both hands and vaulted it in one clean movement.

'Ryan!' squealed Daisy, squeezing him hard, though he barely felt a thing.

The drop lasted a fraction of a second and he hit the ground with a satisfying crunch. There were no complaints at all from his metallic limbs.

_Cool_ , he grinned to himself.

'Butler!'

The sound of Billy's voice from above caused him to turn.

'Not now Bambi,' he shouted.

'I'm with you on this,' came the reply.

'Only if you can keep up,' said Ryan, and he started running.

Tristram's form had already diminished to little more than a speck, so Ryan knew that he had a lot of ground to make up. Using basic line of sight, he had to assume that his tutor was tracking the right of the two rivers that issued from either side of the gate. With Daisy a weightless passenger he covered the ground with ease, sprinting across the rugged the terrain and crushing rocks and stones under foot. It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of his life.

A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Billy's feline form bounding along behind him, doing his best to keep pace. Ryan smiled inwardly.

'Come on Bambi, let's see what you've got,' he muttered, surging forwards.

He paid barely a thought to following the course of the river, which twisted and turned constantly as it wound its way down the hillside. Instead he made a bee-line for the last location he had seen Tristram, correcting his course slightly at the top of each rise. He slid sure-footedly across slopes of scree and leapt the river every time it stood between him and his goal. Then he reached the top of one ridge could see no sign of the winged man. Ryan stopped and the cloud of dust he had created swirled round him. A few moments later the snow leopard arrived at his side.

'What is it?' asked Billy, without any hint of the scorn or sarcasm that usually pervaded his address.

'Lost him. Damn it!'

'He must have found the dream he was looking for,' said Daisy.

The sound of her voice made Ryan jump.

'God Dizz, I'd completely forgotten you were there.'

'It's okay,' she smiled. 'I was enjoying the ride.'

'Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way,' said Billy grimly.

Ryan looked at him without his normal sense of loathing.

'Right,' he said. 'You want the left or right bank?'

'I'll take this side,' came the reply. 'The river is... err... getting a little wide for me to jump.'

_1-0 to the tin man_ , Ryan thought, smiling to himself.

'What should we be looking for?' asked Daisy.

'Anything with Tristram or Sophie in it,' said Billy.

Together they scoured the banks of the river for the dream, still moving apace to keep ahead of the flow. It was tough work negotiating the steep banks while scrutinising the waters at the same time. There was a great deal going on in some of the dreams, making them even harder to check. Others were more placid and only required a cursory glance.

After a while they rounded a bend in the river and the land flattened out abruptly, leaving a beach and a vast expanse of blue ocean before them. They were nearing the end of the watercourse but continued their search all the way to where the Sea of Broken Dreams lapped happily against the shore.

'Bugger,' said Ryan, staring back up at the winding vale they had just descended through.

'You must have missed it,' called Billy from the other side, taking care not to get too near the water.

'Me? Why me?' shouted Ryan, feeling he could have kicked the cat into the river had Billy been on the same side as him. 'There's two of us over here.'

'Boys, don't start,' said Daisy, climbing off Ryan's back. 'We'll just have to check again, won't we? And this time we'll be more thorough about it.'

To Ryan and Billy's amazement she proceeded to drift slowly out over the water, as if she was a feather blown gently on a light breeze. Beneath the long gown she was dressed in her feet did not appear to move. Ryan looked on bemusedly, wondering whether he had actually seen her walk – in the usual sense of the word – anywhere during his time on the Dream Isle.

'Dizz, what the hell are you doing?' he asked, almost accusingly.

'What spirits do best, Ryan,' she replied airily.

'How long have you been able to do that?'

'Since I first arrived. I'm a girl though, so I don't feel compelled to show off all the time.'

Ryan scowled.

'Okay then. Let's get on with it.'

They set off back the way they had come, moving at a light jog to maintain their sense of urgency – except Daisy of course, who just drifted calmly up the middle of the river staring intently at the images passing beneath her. For a long while there was nothing. Naturally there were plenty of blonde girls and dark haired men in the dreams, but none that looked anything like Sophie or Tristram. Then, as they were rounding a broad, sweeping bend in the river, Ryan, who was on the outer bank, saw it.

'There!' he shouted. 'It's Tristram.'

On the far bank Billy stopped, while Daisy floated over to take a look. Sure enough, the image showed their tutor creeping carefully through a dark, snowy forest, while ahead of him the glare of torches swept through the trees, seemingly seeking him out.

'He's right,' she called over to Billy.

'Told you you'd missed it,' replied the snow leopard.

Ryan flexed his metal fingers in frustration.

'Never mind that,' said Daisy, again trying to cut through the tension. 'How are you going to get over here?'

Billy leant down and sniffed the water's edge.

'I don't know,' he said. 'I don't think I can jump it.'

Ryan perked up.

'I'll come and get you then,' he said, sensing a chance to get one over on him again.

'No, no, it's okay. I'll just wander back up and find a narrower section.'

'That'll take too long. I'm coming across.'

Ryan took two steps back and then ran forwards and cleared the river in one easy leap, ensuring that he sent a shower of stones in Billy's direction upon landing.

'Thanks for that,' growled the big cat.

'No problem,' grinned Ryan. 'Up you get then.'

'Look, I'm really not sure about this...'

'Don't be a pussy. Oh, sorry... you _are_ one.'

'Shut it Butler.'

'You're wasting time. Get on.'

Billy glowered at him.

'Fine,' he growled, and leapt onto Ryan's shoulders.

Unfortunately his claws could not get any sort of grip on Ryan's slick bodywork, and in the end he was forced to rest in a most undignified manner, half cradled in one of his arms. Ryan took another couple of steps back and then launched them both across the river. Billy weighed a good deal more than Daisy, but it did not present him with any problems; his strength felt limitless on the Isle. They were almost across when he noticed Tristram's silhouette in the dream below and came to a snap decision.

'See ya Billy!' he cried, and before his passenger knew what was happening Ryan hurled him into the dream.

A moment later he landed back at Daisy's side. She stared at him open-mouthed.

'He shoots, he scores!' Ryan grinned.

'I can't believe you just did that,' she said, her features betraying a small smile.

'It'll teach the smug git a thing or two,' he shrugged.

'We'd better follow him before he gets into trouble,' said Daisy. She floated out over the water and disappeared gracefully into its depths.

'Here we go then,' said Ryan to himself, before cannonballing in after her.
16

There was something odd about the world Ryan Butler descended into. Somewhere, caught within the boyish mess at the back of his mind, there was a memory, or something at least, that gave him a sense of familiarity in a place he had never been.

He was standing in the middle of a snow-covered wood, but it was hardly surprising that that should feel familiar. After all, give or take a few species of tree, woods the world over were pretty much the same; trees, bark, earth – the usual. The presence of snow just gave it a Christmassy feel. So it had to be something else. Maybe it was the lie of the land; the sculpted relief that the architect of the wood had chosen for this particular piece. Or perhaps there was merely something in the air; something tangible yet unquantifiable, gently probing the extremities of his senses.

As he peered through the darkness at the monochrome scene the feeling grew, giving him a sense that at some moment everything would suddenly snap into full, high definition colour. Then would come a blissful moment of recollection when the link between his senses and the niggle at the back of his mind was made.

A movement to his right shattered his focus and he looked over to see the ghostly shape of Daisy Rose creeping slowly towards him. She was no longer a true spirit as she had been moments before; it was the cold light of the moon cast upon her raven hair and brilliantly pale skin that gave her such an appearance. There was something ethereal and beautiful about her here, as if she was born to walk through the snowy, moonlit forests like the elves of myth. It was a place she truly belonged.

Ryan smiled as she drew near. Seeing her that way he suddenly felt proud to have known her longer than all but her closest kin, and to still be considered her best friend. But he rejected the urge to reach out and embrace her; it wasn't the done thing for boys his age and he was content with the warm feeling inside that her presence gave him. It was time for an adventure again; just like when they were growing up. Except this time it was real, in a manner of speaking.

'Hi Ryan,' she whispered. There was no clear need for caution, but something about the place, perhaps the same something that was niggling Ryan's mind, hinted that it might be a good idea to keep quiet.

'Hey Dizz,' he replied. 'You okay?'

'Yes, thank you. Are you?'

'Yeah, fine.'

'Is Billy around?'

'I don't know. I haven't seen him.'

The tall, gangling figure of Billy Richards should have been all too easy to spot. Unless, of course, he was doing a fine job of pretending to be a tree, in which case his shock of crazy blond hair should still have given him away.

Ryan and Daisy were standing in the bottom of a shallow hollow, maybe only a couple of feet deep. All around them were snow-laden trees, their boughs straining under their thick, white loads.

Suddenly a thin beam of torchlight cut through the misty night air ahead of them and instinctively they hunkered down to escape its glare. They had no idea whether or not it was a friendly light but, having watched their tutor creeping warily through the same wood shortly before they entered the dream, there was every chance they wanted to steer clear of it.

'Who do you think it is?' asked Daisy, her voice so hushed that a snowflake landing on her shoulder could well have drowned it out.

'No idea, but Tristram headed towards them so I think we should too. Maybe they know something about Sophie's whereabouts.'

'They?'

'Yeah, look...'

A second torchlight had joined the first and together they danced and weaved through the trees, picking out features that hadn't previously been visible and casting long shadows across the snow.

'Are they coming this way?'

'Maybe, but we should be okay. They don't know we're here so surely they can't be looking for us.'

'So what should we do?'

'Try and get near them; see who they are and try to figure out what's going on here.'

'You mean try and figure out what the story is?'

'Exactly. That should help us work out where we need to go.'

'Shouldn't we wait for Billy?'

'No. Chances are he's buggered off on his own anyway. Besides, he's hardly going to want to see me after what I did to him, is he? One way or another we need to move. My hands are bloody freezing. Look; they're heading away. Let's go.'

They began to creep slowly out of the hollow.

'I wouldn't go that way if I were you.'

The voice behind them caused them both to jump. Ryan rounded on its owner.

'Christ Bambi, what did you do that for?'

'So I could see you crap your pants, Butler. It's the least I could do after you slam-dunked me into this place.'

Ryan gave a small smirk.

'Yeah, well you were being a moron. Anyway, what's wrong with that way?'

'There are Nazis over there.'

'Nasties?' asked Daisy. 'What nasties?'

Billy and Ryan looked at one another and almost burst out laughing.

'Not nasties Daisy, Nazis,' smiled Billy. 'You know; the bad guys from the Second World War? I saw one of their trucks with a swastika on the side.'

'Oh. You mean like in the game Ryan and I were playing last night?'

'That's it!' cried Ryan, far louder than was really necessary. He checked himself before continuing. 'That's why I remember this place. It's just like in that game, except a bit snowy. Isn't it Dizz?'

'Oh yes, how strange,' she frowned.

'Shh!' hissed Billy, sliding quickly down into the hollow with them.

'What?' mouthed Ryan.

Billy pointed to where the two torches had suddenly swung round and were heading back in their direction.

'Bugger it,' whispered Ryan. 'Sorry guys.'

'Nice one Butler,' hissed Billy. 'Since you've been here before, perhaps you can let me know how you got out of this situation.'

'Well, firstly it was a computer game,' Ryan pointed out.

'Thanks for that. For a moment there I really thought you played a part in liberating France.'

Ryan returned his sarcasm with a laconic smile.

'You're funny, Bambi. I was leading on to my second point, which was that I had a gun.'

'A gun?'

'Yup. And as soon as any of those idiots got anywhere near me I blew their heads off with it.'

'Right, so basically we're screwed then?'

Ryan shrugged.

'If you've got a plan I'll hear it. It'll probably be lame though.'

'You boys are unbelievable,' said Daisy exasperatedly. 'You know, if you actually put your heads together and used them, I think the results would surprise you both. Now, I think we ought to try and move from here. Those lights are getting closer and if what you say is true then we really don't want to be found.'

'Okay, but not too far,' said Ryan. 'I want to get a good look at what we are up against.'

The hollow they were hiding in was narrow and not very deep, but did lead away to their left in a shallow trough that curved gently such that it allowed them to circle round the torches whilst maintaining their distance.

They made their way slowly, keeping as low as possible but unwilling to stick to all fours as none of them had gloves on. It was not particularly comfortable, but they stuck at it until the hollow finally tapered away into nothing.

'That's it,' hissed Billy, who was in the lead. 'We can't go any further without being exposed.'

The other two flattened themselves against the ground, feeling the chill of the snow beneath them, and peered back at the torches, which were now to their right and slightly behind them. They appeared to be focussing on a single spot on the ground.

'That's where we've just come from,' whispered Daisy. 'Do you think they know we're here?'

'They'd have to be the worst scouts ever if they didn't,' said Billy. 'We've given them the world's easiest trail to follow.'

'What should we do then?' asked Daisy, looking at Ryan.

'Dunno,' he shrugged. 'Did you have a look around, Bambi?'

'Will you stop calling me that, you skid-mark? Yes, I did have a look around, and yes, there are more of them here.'

'Where?'

'Everywhere, look...'

He pointed to their left, where another torch was sweeping its way through the trees, a little way off.

'And over there!' said Daisy, pointing ahead of them and to the right.

'Great! So we're surrounded then,' said Ryan grumpily. 'We might as well just sit there and wait for them to find us.'

'That might be sooner than you think,' said Billy nervously. 'Those idiots are definitely on to us now.'

Sure enough, the first two torches were now slowly following the exact same route they had just made along the hollow. They needed to make a decision.

'Maybe they'll be nice?' suggested Daisy.

Ryan frowned.

'They're Nazis, Dizz. They don't do nice.'

'So, what then? Are we going to run?'

'I think so,' said Billy, who was already preparing himself for a sprint.

'Where to?' asked Daisy.

'Anywhere! Just not towards those guys. And Butler, see if you can beat me this time.'

With that, he sprinted off into the darkness. Ryan and Daisy did not waste a moment in following him.

None of them knew quite how it happened, but almost as soon as they had set off the number of torches around them, flashing through the trees and seeking them out, increased dramatically. They were everywhere, and the air was filled with a cacophony of shouts from all sides. Only the way ahead of them appeared still to be clear.

'Bloody hell! Where did all they come from?' shouted Ryan. He looked over his shoulder and was dazzled by five lights shining in his face at once.

'They must have been lying in wait,' called Billy from up ahead. 'Keep running.'

_Thanks for that, genius_ , thought Ryan. _I'm hardly going to stop now, am I?_

Unfortunately for Ryan, he was no longer the finely honed, tireless machine that he was on the Dream Isle, and the limitations of his physical self were becoming all too evident. His legs ached and his heart felt like it was about to pound its way clean out of his chest. Combined with a shortness of breath and the dizzying nausea this brought with it, Ryan wasn't in the best of sorts.

'Guys... wait up!' he panted, barely able to get the words out between the huge lungfuls of oxygen his body was demanding.

'Ryan!' cried Daisy, dropping back alongside him. 'You can do it. You're almost as fast as me. Come on!'

Ryan gave her a wide-eyed shake of the head, but he pushed on regardless. There was nothing else he could do. Branches lashed at his face, showering him with snow as his arms failed to respond to his request for them to protect him. His lungs were filled with a rasping, burning fire the like of which they had never experienced before. All around him the lights closed in.

'Come on Ryan,' pleaded Daisy.

'I... can't...' he wheezed. 'Leave... me.'

'No way. I'm staying with you. Come on, you need to Dreamweave or something.'

'What?'

'Like Tristram said you did when you were trapped under water. Physical Evolution; it's the only way. You need to make yourself run faster.'

Ryan screwed up his face as if she was speaking a completely different language. He wished he had sufficient breath to spare to call her something disgracefully rude, but all he could do was gurn his incredulity.

Suddenly the roar of an engine bursting into life tore through the night and the raging glare of two headlights up ahead brought them to a standstill. Ryan immediately collapsed onto his back, panting heavily. Daisy stood next to him as a dazzling circle of lights closed in around them.

'Make... myself... run... faster,' heaved Ryan, so happy to be stationary that he could actually see the funny side of things. 'What planet are you from Dizz? And since when have I been almost as fast as you? Maybe over ten metres...'

'Ryan, shh,' hissed Daisy.

They were now entirely encircled by the lights and could see nothing beyond. Ryan sat up and held his hands aloft.

'Okay, you got me,' he giggled. 'I'm slow and unfit. What are you anyway, the fat police?'

' _Ryan!_ ' said Daisy through gritted teeth.

'Sorry,' he replied, climbing to his feet. 'Oh... head rush,' he added, and promptly passed out.

Ryan awoke to find that it was still relatively dark and that his hands were bound behind him. Still, at least he was seated, which suited him quite nicely. There were voices jabbering a different language very close by and he blinked as a torch was waved in his direction.

'Hey...' he groaned, trying to turn away from it. There was something cold and hard behind him. Judging by the low thrum and vibrations coursing through his body it was the vehicle they had just encountered.

He turned his head to the right and was shocked to find Daisy Rose's face barely an inch from his. She was wearing a quite bizarre expression; somewhere between fear and amusement. As it turned out, it was both of them at once.

She gave him a broad, almost idiotic smile, which he returned with interest.

'Hi Ryan,' she mouthed carefully, her eyes flickering briefly in the direction of the lights nearby.

He gave her a wink in response.

Then, with a tilt of the head, Daisy mouthed the following: 'They're hamsters.'

It took a few moments for the words to register in Ryan's mind. It felt like his head was full of treacle, but in fairness to him they were hardly the next words he had been expecting from her lips. Slowly a frown began to draw across his brow.

'They're hamsters?' he repeated very quietly.

Daisy nodded, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Ryan cast the briefest of glances to the side, but all he saw was a hazy mixture of light and dark shades.

'Hamsters?' he said again.

'Yes Ryan, hamsters.'

'Who are?'

'The nasties.'

'What?'

Suddenly their faces were awash with light and they both squinted to see past it. Then an oddly high-pitched voice with an even stranger accent spoke.

'Ah. It seems ze uzzer vun is avake.'

It really was a quite curious voice.

Several other lights swung their way and the one in front of them lowered slightly. From the gloom beyond appeared a moist, pink nose, followed by a set of whiskers, a furry, brown muzzle and a pair of beady, black eyes. It truly was the largest hamster Ryan had ever seen.

'So, vot do our little spies have to say for zemselves?' it asked, the voice making a lot more sense now it was tied to the face.

'You have the crappiest accent ever,' smirked Ryan. 'Who taught you English?'

The hamster squinted at him through the shiny black orbs that were its eyes. Then, all of a sudden, it administered a stinging backhand to the side of Ryan's face.

'Insolent vermin. You vood do vell to votch your tongue.'

Ryan glared back at him.

'You're a good one to talk about vermin, rat face.'

The second slap was open-palmed and a lot harder. Four sharp claws scraped across his left cheek, breaking the skin.

'Kviet! Disgusting creature! Comrades, gag him. He vill not speak again unless ve ask him to.'

'You _did_ ask me to, you son of a...' protested Ryan, but he was cut short as a filthy rag was thrust into his mouth and bound behind his head.

Glowering wildly at his captors, there was nothing he could do but sit and watch as they turned their attentions to Daisy.

'So, little vun, are you going to be more cooperative?' asked the hamster.

'Of course,' she beamed sweetly, though his treatment of Ryan had shocked her. 'What do you want to know?'

Ryan wasn't sure how much Daisy knew about interrogation, and while he didn't exactly relish the prospect of being tortured for information he did feel that she was giving in a tad easily.

'Firstly, your names,' demanded the hamster.

'I'm Daisy Rose and this is Ryan Butler. What's yours?'

The hamster looked slightly taken aback.

'Vy, I am Captain Nibbles. I command ze most fearsome group of soldiers in ze Third Reich.'

Ryan made a stifled guffaw behind his gag and Captain Nibbles gave him a wrathful look – as far as that was possible for a hamster.

'You are lucky your friend is being so cooperative,' he sneered. 'Uzzervise...'

Ryan simply returned his look by going cross-eyed.

'So, Daisy Rose, vy are you and your insolent friend sneaking around in my vood at night? Who sent you? Vot is your purpose here?'

'You're very cute,' replied Daisy, smiling. 'If I wasn't tied up, I'd give you a big cuddle.'

This time it wasn't only Ryan who was laughing to himself. Nibbles threw a dangerous look over his shoulder at his comrades.

'I AM NOT CUTE!' he bellowed, his high-pitched voice going nearly ultrasonic. 'I am a fearsome varrior. My enemies tremble at ze mere mention of my name. NOW, ANSWER ZE KVESTIONS!'

His whiskers were quivering with rage.

'Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you,' said Daisy. 'The truth is that no one sent us, and we have no mission as such. We're just here, enjoying a moonlit stroll in these beautiful woods. Are they really yours?'

She continued to beam an adoring smile at the hamster. Nibbles, however, was not impressed.

'Your story is an unlikely vun,' he snarled, ignoring the question. 'You do know zat zere is a vor on?'

'A war? Oh yes, but we're really not interested in that sort of thing. It's all very unnecessary and nobody wins in the end.'

Captain Nibbles' nose twitched agitatedly. He was clearly unhappy with the amount of information he was being given.

'Little girl, let me make myself very clear. If you continue to be uncooperative I vill have no choice but to take you back to ze Fürrer, who most likely vill show you a whole new meaning to the vurd 'pain'. Now, I shall ask you again; vy are you here? Are my foes so desperate zat zey are resorting to sending children to spy on me now?'

'Oh no, we're not spies. We didn't even know there was anyone else in the forest.'

'Don't try my patience, girl! No vun valks zese voods unless zey are vun of us or vun of _zem_ ,' he spat on the ground next to Ryan's feet. 'And you don't look like vun of us.'

He eyed them both with barely concealed loathing.

'I'm telling you the truth,' said Daisy, her smile finally starting to fade.

'Enough!' cried Nibbles. 'Sandy, Scampi, stick zem in ze vagon. Perhaps ve'll let ze Fürrer have some fun vith zem.'

Two other hamsters, much larger than Nibbles himself, stepped into the light and roughly grabbed hold of the two captives. Daisy did not put up a fight and Ryan was in such a fit of giggles that he was in no state to resist. They were bundled into the back of the vehicle, which instead of having seats in it was lined with wood shavings and chewed-up pieces of cardboard. The doors were slammed shut behind them, and a moment later the truck lurched into motion.

'Ryan! Ryan, be serious for a moment. I think we're in trouble.'

It had been several minutes and Ryan was still struggling to get a grip on himself. He wriggled into an upright position and took a few deep breaths through his nose. The rag in his mouth was soaking with his saliva and there were streaks of dribble down his chin. He did his best to wipe them off on his chest and then sat back and looked across at Daisy.

It was dark in the back of the wagon. The only source of light was that of the moon filtering through several rows of slots in one side of the vehicle. It cast Daisy's pale features into stark contrast, while Ryan sat in shadow. Surprisingly, there were no other occupants in the rear of the vehicle, though, in truth, there was barely enough space for the two of them as it was, and their legs were a tangled mess in the middle of the floor.

'Hnou hokkae Izz?' he mumbled through the gag.

'I beg your pardon?' said Daisy.

'Hokkae?' he repeated.

'Ryan, I can't hear you through that thing. Do you think you can get it off?'

Ryan thought about giving her a sarcastic look, but knew she probably wouldn't have noticed in the dim light. At that moment his stomach let out a deep, growling rumble.

Daisy giggled.

'How can you be hungry?'

Ryan gave a pig-like snort and shrugged. Then all of a sudden, an idea struck him. In his fits of mirth about the situation they now found themselves in, he had all but forgotten why they were there in the first place and, more importantly, _how_ they had got there. He looked at Daisy and mumbled something incoherent, before settling back and closing his eyes.

'Ryan, what...?' started Daisy, but her voice trailed away as his eyes snapped open and gave her a look that demanded silence. Slowly they began to close again.

_Think about the outcome, not the method_ , he told himself.

He concentrated on the gaping void in his stomach; on the nagging hunger that had begun to gnaw at his insides. He imagined the feeling he got when he was stuffing down a huge pizza, or one of his mum's all-too-rare roast dinners. He thought of the sensation of being almost comatose from food intake. He imagined not being able to eat another thing...

... and all of a sudden he was eating; chewing away on something that seemed to change its flavour every few moments – from his favourite cereal, to toast with honey, to chilli con carne, to steak, to the pizza he had thought about and then into a whole medley of desserts. It was as if a flavour bomb had detonated in his mouth, as all his favourite foods were fed to him in quick succession. He writhed around on the floor of the truck in a fit of ecstasy, while Daisy looked on, not knowing whether to laugh or scream.

All too quickly the sensation passed and Ryan was left panting and heaving, his face in a bed of wood shavings and a chewed up rag dangling over the back of his neck.

'Oh... my... God,' he panted.

'Ryan? Are you okay?' asked Daisy nervously.

'I wanna do that again,' he said, grinning stupidly as a stream of drool collected on the bedding beneath his head.

'You just chewed through that disgusting rag. I'm not sure that it's going to agree with you.'

'It tasted good enough on the way in,' said Ryan, trying to right himself but finding the effort all a little too much after such a meal. 'I'm going to have to remember that one.' He settled into a resigned slouch.

'Are you saying that was a 'weave?' asked Daisy incredulously.

'Yup,' he nodded.

'Ryan that's amazing...'

'... it tasted amazing...'

'... and clever too. Full marks for thinking that up. It would never have occurred to me.'

'Clearly you need to spend more time thinking with your stomach. You want some?'

He eyed the moist, ragged piece of cloth that was sitting forlornly on his shoulder.

'No thanks,' Daisy smiled. 'After watching that display there's no way I could possibly eat.'

'Suit yourself. I might save it for later then.'

'Ryan, seriously now, what are we going to do? We're supposed to be finding Sophie, or at least following Tristram. We don't know where we're being taken or anything.'

'Or where Billy is, the gutless deserter. But Dizz, listen; we've been taken captive by a group of giant hamsters. Hamsters, Dizz! I really don't think we've got much to worry about. Captain Nibbles? Come on, I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!'

Daisy gave a small laugh.

'It is quite funny, isn't it? I could barely keep myself together with you making all those faces. But Ryan, they've got guns. And Captain... err... Nibbles has given you a nasty scratch on your face. Maybe they really do mean business.'

'Maybe,' shrugged Ryan. 'But I'd be pretty ashamed if I couldn't deal with a bunch of over-sized rodents.'

'I hope you're right. And I'm sure Billy didn't mean to leave us behind. He was up ahead, after all. He may not have realised that we had stopped.'

'Think what you want. In my opinion, we're better off without the miserable git.'

The truck trundled along a heavily rutted track for a while, providing its occupants with a less than comfortable ride. They felt grateful for the thin layer of bedding beneath them, without which the journey would have been almost unbearable. Occasionally they got the sensation that they were turning corners, but without any windows to provide them with a reference this just made the whole experience even more disorientating.

One thing they did become aware of, however, was the fact that they were not the only truck on the track. There was a brighter light than that of the moon filtering through the slots in the walls, indicating that there was at least one other vehicle following them. Above the thrum of their own truck's engine they could hear other distinct tones, hinting that it could be at least two. That aside, there was nothing they could discern from their surroundings so they simply had to wait until something happened.

'Ryan, I've been thinking,' said Daisy after a while.

'Uh oh. Sounds dangerous,' he replied, not moving from the deep slouch he had found to be the most comfortable position for him.

'I hope it isn't,' she smiled. 'It's just that I was wondering whether us sitting here is very productive. I mean, we've no idea whether we're getting nearer to Sophie and I'm sure if we put our minds to it we could work out a way of getting out of here. What do you think?'

Ryan continued to lie there staring vacantly up at the ceiling while he considered his reply. He had actually been pondering the exact same thing.

'Okay, here's what I think,' he said after a few moments. 'We're in a dream, right?'

Daisy nodded.

'So basically there's this whole story going on around us and we've just hitched along for the ride. Now, if Soph's in the story as well, the chances are she'll come into it at some point. So I think that all we need to do is just play along and wait until she does.'

Through the gloom in the back of the truck, Daisy gave him an admiring look.

'You are really getting into this, aren't you?' she said happily. 'You're really trying to figure out how it all works.'

Ryan shrugged.

'I guess so. Though all I'm really doing is trying to be logical about it. I mean, take this whole Dreamweaver thing we've signed up for; we barely know anything about it, do we? A week ago dreams were just dreams to me. Sometimes they were cool, other times not. I really didn't think any more about them. Now we're told there's this set of rules governing how we dream and we only know a tiny part of it.'

'And yet here we are trying to save Sophie from who-knows-what,' smiled Daisy.

'Well, my dad always says that there's no substitute for experience. Besides, what would we be doing otherwise? Hanging out on a hilltop with those other freaks, trying to turn sticks into hair dryers or whatever.'

'Ryan, they're not freaks. They're just like us.'

'Well, Isabella's all right, I'll give you that.'

'All the boys like her,' nodded Daisy.

'That's because she's fit. The others, though; I could take or leave them.'

'Really? I think they are all lovely. Earl's sweet, and Teemu too; he's adorable.'

'Biggest freak of the lot if you ask me.'

'Ryan stop it! He's just a little nervous around others, that's all. You would be too if you had been through what he's been through.'

'What's that?' asked Ryan, perking up.

'Oh, whoops, no that's personal stuff. I couldn't possibly say.'

'No, go on. If he saw fit to tell you...'

'No Ryan, don't. I shouldn't have said anything. Just be nice to him, okay? He feels like enough of an outcast already.'

'Suit yourself. Sounds to me as if you like him a little more than you are letting on.'

Daisy flushed slightly.

'I... err... don't really know,' she said awkwardly. 'He certainly doesn't argue like all you other boys.'

'That's because he doesn't speak to anyone. And I only argue with Billy because he's arrogant and needs to be taken down a peg or two.'

'I think you're as bad as each other, although sometimes it is quite funny watching you squabble.'

'We don't argue that much. It's just when he opens his mouth that I have a problem. Anyway, we don't bicker nearly as much as girls do. They're far worse.'

'No they're not. I don't disagree with everyone all the time.'

'Dizz, you're not exactly a normal girl...'

Daisy's face dropped and Ryan quickly fought to recover the situation.

'That's not a bad thing,' he hastened to add. 'Honestly, if more girls were like you the world would be a better place.'

Daisy's expression sprang back into a beaming smile.

'That's so sweet Ryan, thank you,' she said.

'That's okay,' he replied, scratching his head and feeling somewhat flustered. 'You do see what I mean though? Half the girls at school want to scratch the other half's eyes out. It's pretty nasty really.'

'Isn't it the same for boys?'

'A bit. But guys get over stuff very quickly. I think it's to do with our short attention spans. A quick fight and it's all forgotten. Girls bitch about the same thing for weeks.'

'I guess they do. You know me though, Ryan. I never pay much attention to that sort of thing.'

'Make sure you keep it that way. I tell you, girls are nice to look at and stuff, but I'm damned if I can figure them out. You're the only one who makes any kind of sense.'

'That's because I'm a loony,' Daisy smiled.

Eventually the truck crunched to a halt on what sounded like a patch of gravelly ground. There had been no let-up in the harsh ride, which led them to assume that they were still out in the middle of nowhere. There was now more light filtering into the cramped space Ryan and Daisy were occupying, and as the engine was switched off they became aware of a general hubbub outside.

They waited, listening intently for the inevitable moment when the rear doors would open and they would find out, perhaps, what they had gotten themselves into. The minutes passed and the sounds of activity outside rose, not least the voice of Captain Nibbles, who was barking – or perhaps squeaking – orders left, right and centre. Eventually his voice drew round to the back of the truck and the doors were flung open, bathing the interior in a sallow light.

Ryan and Daisy gave no resistance as they were hauled out of the vehicle, their expressions curious rather than fearful. They were in a wide clearing that had been turned into a makeshift outpost of some sort, with a ring of tents around the perimeter and a large quantity of light vehicles, arms and supplies in the centre. Powerful spotlights running off vehicle engines illuminated the area, showing thick vegetation all the way round. The only obvious way into the clearing was down the track they had come in on.

'They've got enough hamsters here to power those lights without engines,' whispered Ryan, as all about them Nibbles' men bustled, barely looking at the new arrivals. 'Give them a few wheels and they're good to go.'

'Stop it!' giggled Daisy. 'You'll get us into trouble.'

'Silence!' shouted Nibbles, rounding on them angrily. 'You may not have your tongues for much longer, so use zem sparingly.'

With that thought in mind, as Nibbles led them into the largest of the tents that bordered the clearing, Ryan and Daisy stuck their tongues out behind his back.

The inside of the tent was oddly furnished, with straw and wood shavings covering the floor and an oddly shaped chair behind a low desk in the centre. A few pieces of communications equipment and small arms were scattered around the place, while in one corner stood a drinks cabinet, which Captain Nibbles went straight over to and began helping himself to a bottle of brandy.

Much to their amusement, rather than pouring himself a glass, the giant hamster drank from the bottle. It was fitted with a delivery cap he had to push with his tongue, just like those they had seen in pet shops back home. Daisy and Ryan stood, hands bound, and did their utmost not to fall into hysterics at the spectacle. But Captain Nibbles sensed their mirth. He stopped and glared at them.

'I'm sorry,' he squeaked. 'Vere are my manners? Please, take a seat.'

The two prisoners looked at one another. A moment later they were both struck in the back by a couple of guards and sent sprawling face first onto the ground. Spitting out pieces of straw, they were hauled back onto their knees by rough claws grabbing them by their clothes and hair. Daisy let out a squeal as she was pulled so hard that a large clump of her hair came away in the hamster's paw.

Ryan threw a look of loathing at Captain Nibbles.

'You'll pay for that, you filthy rodent,' he snarled.

Nibbles merely chuckled and downed the rest of the brandy.

'I'm sure I shall,' he sneered, weighing up the bottle in his hand, before hurling it at Ryan. Daisy squealed again as it caught him in the solar plexus, and it was only the generous layer of insulation Ryan carried on his person that prevented him from being totally winded.

Still, he made the most of it and doubled over, sensing that the situation had progressed beyond a game. When he was eventually pulled upright, Nibbles was sitting in his chair, leaning forwards with his two short front legs on the table. His small black eyes flicked from one prisoner to the other, while his furry features were filled with revulsion and scorn.

'I trust I have your full attention now,' he said slowly, his accent no longer drawing any amusement from the captives. 'Maybe now you understand zat it is right to fear Captain Nibbles and zat insolence vill not be tolerated. Ve pride ourselves on using only ze finest methods of torture to extract information from our prisoners, so you vould do vell to cooperate from now on. Am I understood?'

Ryan nodded sullenly and looked over at Daisy, who nodded too.

'Good. You vill find me a most benevolent host if you behave and tell me all I vont to know. If you choose not to, zen I'll say again; your time here vill be most unpleasant. So, tell me about your friend; ze vun who attacked my men and stole a motorbike from us. Who is he? And vere is he going? He must be made to pay for his crimes.'

_Blimey_ , thought Ryan. _Billy's wasted no time. Fair play to him._

He looked across at Daisy and shook his head. She looked wide-eyed and fearful; a ghost of the Daisy Rose he knew. He wanted to embrace her; to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right, so that the true Daisy would return. He suddenly realised what an anchor of happiness she had become to him; unwaveringly cheerful and upbeat. Without her smile the world seemed a desolate place and he felt alone, even though in body she was there with him.

Ryan had watched plenty of war films and played enough games to give him an idea of what to expect from an interrogation, but, despite knowing it was all a dream, finding himself in such a situation was more alarming than he had ever imagined. It was strange to think that only a few moments before he had been poking fun at all that was going on around him. Now he was gripped in a conflict between instinct and nature. One side wanted him to tell all and save his own skin, while the other detested authority figures and wished to thwart them at every turn.

He turned back to Nibbles, glowering defiantly.

'Vell?' asked the hamster.

Ryan shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. Captain Nibbles gave a wicked chuckle.

'So, it's like zat, is it?' he sneered, getting to his feet. 'I take it you did not enjoy zat last drink? You know, I have a single malt in here zat might be more to your tastes. It goes straight to your head and as soon as it hits you it just knocks you right out. If you're lucky.'

He grabbed another bottle and started throwing it from paw to paw, getting a feel for its weight.

'No, please,' cried Daisy.

'Dizz...'

'No Ryan, I won't let him do it. I'm sure Tristram's far away from here by now.'

'Tristram? I thought he was talking about...'

Ryan stopped, but the expression on Nibble's face revealed that he'd already said too much.

'How interesting,' he drawled. 'It is as I suspected; ve have two fugitives to be looking out for, comrades.'

Ryan shook his head.

'No, no, I was getting confused. You were talking about Tristram, yes? Tall bloke, black hair? Good looking in a way that makes you want to punch him in the face every time he looks at you?'

Nibbles gave a slight frown and considered Ryan with his head slightly to one side.

'Yes,' he said, drawing out the word a little longer than was really necessary. 'But I am also curious about ze blond-haired boy you vere seen vith earlier. Are you saying you do not know zis boy?'

Ryan sagged and gave Daisy a defeated look. A moment later something hit him in the temple and the lights went out.

When he opened his eyes he felt dazed and confused about where he was – even more so than the average person who's taken a bottle of Scotch to the side of the head. For several moments he couldn't work out whether he had woken up fully or if he was still dreaming. The sound of a voice sobbing quietly next to him revealed that it was the latter. He looked to his left and saw Daisy Rose sitting next to him with her head in her hands, which were still bound together. He looked around to see if there was anyone else with them, and when he discovered there wasn't he rolled over and placed his hands on her knee. She recoiled as if she had been mourning the death of a loved one who had suddenly come back to life.

Her eyes were red, but on seeing him awake she immediately brightened up.

'Oh Ryan, you're okay!' she exclaimed.

'Well I don't know about that,' he said groggily. 'I've felt better, I can tell you!'

'No, but you're alive.'

'Yes, about one step up, but it's enough. Where are we?'

'In another tent,' said Daisy. 'They took us straight here after they knocked you out. I was in such a state seeing you lying there that they knew they would get nothing useful out of me. Oh Ryan! What are we doing here? This is way beyond us. We should be back at the Academy practising Morphing like all the others.'

Ryan reached out and took her hands in his.

'Dizz, it's okay. I'm okay, you're okay; everything's fine. Look, we've told them everything we know so there's nothing more we can do. We've just got to wait for the story to unfold.'

'I think we should get out of here. I want to wake up and leave this place behind. Tristram will take care of the others, I'm sure of it.'

'How do we do that?' asked Ryan. 'I don't think I can just wake up on demand. If I could, I think that bottle would have done it for me.'

'We could Dreamweave until we do,' suggested Daisy. 'You know; until our bodies run out of energy and force us to wake up?'

'We could,' said Ryan. 'But I'm not sure I can do that on demand either.'

All of a sudden a voice from the other side of the tent fabric chimed in.

'If you two have quite finished feeling sorry for yourselves, how about we all get out of here together?'

'Billy?' whispered Daisy, who was as startled as Ryan to hear his voice.

'No, it's the Pope. Now, are you ready to make a run for it?'

Ryan looked at Daisy, who had cheered up no end. She gave him a broad smile and nodded.

'Our hands and feet are tied,' he said.

'Well, pretend they're stuck through a doughnut and eat your way through them,' said Billy impatiently.

'It's funny you should say that,' grinned Ryan, back to his old self again. 'Come on Bamb... I mean Billy. Help us out here.'

'Watch it, Butler.'

Suddenly the blade of a knife burst through the fabric of the tent alarmingly close to Daisy's head. She let out a small yelp and instinctively recoiled from it, then covered her mouth when she realised what she had done. The knife withdrew immediately and there were several moments of anxious silence while they waited to see if their captors had noticed.

'Everything all right in there?' hissed Billy, when it seemed the danger had passed. 'You okay Daisy?'

'Yes, I'm fine.'

Two fingers slid through the slot in the fabric and Billy's eye appeared between them.

'Get away from the side of the tent then,' he said.

They shuffled awkwardly to one side while he finished cutting a flap large enough for them to fit through. Then he stuck his head inside and looked around.

'All right Daisy, Ryan,' he nodded. 'Oh good, they used rope. Let's get you out of those.'

He reached inside and within a minute he had freed them from their bonds.

'Where did you get that?' asked Ryan, ogling the large blade in his hands.

'Nicked it, didn't I? Got us a map too.'

'You _have_ been busy,' smiled Daisy.

'Yeah, I'll tell you about it when we're away. Come on, and keep down.'

Daisy and Ryan ducked under the flap and found themselves in a small wedge-shaped piece of ground between two tents, with the forest behind them. As a place to hide it certainly had its merits, but unfortunately the vegetation was so thick that there was absolutely no way they could beat a path through it without giving themselves away.

Ryan looked all around them, his face screwed up in confusion.

'Okay genius. Either you flew in here or there's something you're not telling us,' he whispered.

Billy rolled his eyes and looked at Daisy.

'He doesn't think, does he?'

He leaned to one side in the confined space and revealed a narrow gap between the tent and the greenery. It was just wide enough for them to fit down.

'What? So we're just going to walk out of here without anyone seeing?' scoffed Ryan.

'No. We're going to get ourselves some transport.'

'Yeah? Like what?'

Billy grabbed Ryan roughly by the T-shirt.

'I don't know yet,' he hissed. 'I'm making this up as I go. Feel free to chip in at any time, but only if you've got something useful to suggest.'

Ryan glared at him but refrained from escalating the argument.

'Come on then,' whispered Billy, edging into the gap. 'And Butler, try not to be too fat.'

Ryan clenched his fist into a ball, but Daisy put a gentle hand on his arm and gave him a warm smile. Then she headed after Billy. Ryan followed, wondering whether it was worth asking Captain Nibbles about his preferred methods for torturing lanky, blond-haired boys.

The narrow trail Billy had found led them almost to the entrance to the encampment without being seen. At the corner of the last tent they stopped, and Billy took a quick peek to see how their chances of making a clean getaway were looking.

'All right,' he whispered. 'The good news is that there's no barrier, so we should be able to get a vehicle out of here no problem. The bad news is that there are two guards on the road and they've got big guns.'

'Right-o,' said Ryan. 'What are we going to hijack?'

'Well, there's a golf buggy about three metres away. How's that?'

Ryan and Daisy looked at him, bemused.

'What the hell is a golf buggy doing here?' asked Ryan.

'I don't know,' snapped Billy, struggling to keep his voice to a whisper. 'What the hell are hamsters doing with automatic weapons? Are we going then?'

'Is there anything else?' asked Daisy calmly.

'No, that's it.'

'Then the buggy it is,' she said simply.

The two boys glowered at one another for a moment, then the three of them made a dash for it.

A while later, when he had time to look back on it, Ryan still couldn't believe how they managed to get so far without being noticed. Perhaps dreams were closer to films in nature than he realised, with the improbable becoming the norm and the most obvious solution rarely the correct one.

Whatever the case, there was no good reason for them getting to the golf buggy and starting it without anyone batting an eyelid. It was only once they had knocked out the guards at the entrance, using the conveniently placed golf clubs on board, that any hint of a commotion in the encampment could be heard. However, their good luck proved to be short-lived, for moments later their daring escape quickly began to unravel.

'That's got to be the easiest breakout in the history of the world,' cried Ryan, who was occupying the rear-facing seats while the others sat up front. 'So long, you furry-faced idiots! Floor it Billy!'

Billy gave Daisy a worried glance.

'This is as fast as it goes.'

Ryan turned away from smirking at the hamsters, who were now rushing round the outpost in the desperate attempt to mount a pursuit.

'You're kidding me. That's shocking! How the hell are we supposed to get away from them at this speed? Are you sure it won't go any faster?'

'My foot is buried. This is all it's got.'

In truth, they really wouldn't have wanted to be going much faster. The buggy was pitching wildly on the rutted track and it was all they could do to keep their backsides on their seats.

'I need options,' said Billy, furiously fighting the wayward steering, which seemed to have a mind of its own.

'We could probably push it faster than this,' grumbled Ryan.

'Are you saying you want to stop?'

'No,' said Daisy. 'Keep driving. Maybe it will level out soon.'

'And then what?' asked Billy. 'I just open her up and we get away? We're at full speed!'

'I hate to say it, but they're coming,' said Ryan, staring grimly back down the track to where a pair of bright lights had joined them on the trail.

'The easiest escape in history, and the shortest,' said Daisy ruefully.

'Junction ahead,' called Billy. 'Left or right?'

'Dunno, you've got the map brainiac,' said Ryan.

'That's not helpful, Ryan,' scolded Daisy.

'Left or right!?' cried Billy again.

'Right!' shouted Daisy, so loudly that both boys jumped without the buggy's assistance. 'Sorry, just getting into it,' she added, smiling sheepishly.

'Right it is,' said Billy, hurling the buggy onto the new track which, if anything, was even worse than the one they had just left. The deep furrows, worn by the many other vehicles that had passed along it, were too wide for the narrow golf buggy to straddle. They were forced to travel with one set of wheels in and the other out, listing uncomfortably to one side while Billy wrestled hard to keep it all together.

'This is hopeless!' he shouted in frustration, as the rut dipped, pitching the buggy so far from the horizontal it was a wonder that it didn't roll over.

Ryan sat and watched as the pair of lights turned out onto the road behind them and began making easy work of the rutted track.

He had an idea.

'Move over Richards, let me drive,' he demanded.

'What? No! You couldn't do any better, Butler, trust me.'

'Not in this heap of crap, no,' said Ryan firmly.

Daisy turned to look at him and Ryan gave her a nod, sensing that she understood.

'Do it Billy,' she said, climbing into the back with Ryan.

'What?'

'Please?' she added, leaning back through and giving him a peck on the cheek.

He cast a bemused glance over his shoulder, but was faced with steely resolve.

'Fine,' he said, sliding across into Daisy's old spot. He did his best to maintain control as Ryan climbed through into the driver's seat. 'You know, when I said I needed options, I didn't exactly mean letting this idiot drive.'

Ryan made a point of clouting him on the back of the head as he finally slipped into position.

'You know Bill, I'm not as stupid as I look,' he said. 'Now shut up and let me concentrate.'

It was easier said than done. Ryan had never driven a golf buggy before and, despite the simplicity of the controls, nothing had prepared him for the tussle he was about to have with the steering. He wanted to close his eyes and concentrate, but though the cart was pretty much stuck in the rut there were still plenty of adjustments needed to ensure they didn't come to a grinding halt.

He tried to relax and just go with it, letting the buggy ride the terrain as it saw fit and keeping his control inputs to a minimum. It seemed to work. Like a rider on a horse he let his mount do the work and the ride began to mellow out. He relaxed some more, imagining a smooth stretch of asphalt beneath him and settling back happily as he cruised the open road, the wind whipping at his hair. The only thing before him was mile after mile of unbroken road. It was bliss. Smiling broadly, he gunned the engine to declare his freedom. And it roared.

Ryan opened his eyes, startled. He was still travelling down the rutted trail, but everything really had smoothed out. Had he just been driving with his eyes closed?

'Wha... what happened?' he stammered.

'Ryan, you did it!' cried Daisy, grabbing him so hard from behind that she almost strangled him.

'What?' choked Ryan.

'Take a look,' said Billy, who was giving Ryan a look of admiration that neither of them felt all that comfortable with.

Ryan peered out over the edge of the buggy and saw a pair of massive tyres churning away beneath him. He was sitting far off the ground in the same little golf buggy's body, but it was now a full-blown monster truck. Ryan gaped in disbelief.

'I don't believe it,' he said slowly.

'Believe it mate,' said Billy. 'Perhaps I misjudged you, Butler. You do have skills.'

'I... I...' was all Ryan managed.

'You're disappearing!' cried Daisy. 'Billy look, he's about to...'

And Ryan woke up.
17

'Damn it!' Ryan shouted, his mind cottoning on to events far quicker than his body. When it finally caught up, a crippling surge of hunger knocked him for six.

'Oh God,' he groaned, rolling his head to one side and seeing the bag of sweets he had stationed on his bedside cabinet. It was illuminated by the soft, red glow emanating from the digits of his alarm clock.

3:27am. He still had time, but the sweets were agonisingly out of reach. It had been by far his biggest 'weave to date and the exertion had taken everything out of him. He stared up at the ceiling, taking short, laboured gasps as he fought to quell the horrible emptiness within him. As his mind crept tentatively back to what had happened a few moments before, a small smile began to form at the corners of his mouth.

_I turned a golf buggy into a monster truck_ , he thought happily. _Cool_.

He looked back at the bag of sweets and tried to psyche his mind up to overcome his body's limitations. His arms and legs felt feeble and limp, while his head was all but glued to his pillow, such were the complaints in his neck.

_This is bad_ , he thought. _How am I supposed to deal with this? Sleep with the sweets under my pillow?_

It wasn't such a crazy thought. In fact, he filed away a note to do just that the next time he went to bed. Also it would mean that his mum would be less likely to walk off with them, should she come into his room for whatever reason.

Ryan sighed. It wasn't just that he felt physically drained; he was lacking motivation too. He just couldn't be bothered. Even though the sweets were barely a foot out of reach, he couldn't muster the desire to reach out to grab them. Only the irrefutable nagging in his stomach kept the thought alive.

Slowly the pain brought on a bout of nausea which, following Ryan's experiences with his mum, was enough to prompt him into action. Little by little, moving just the upper part of his left arm and letting the lower half follow it, he began stretching out towards the bag of sweets. It was quite an effort, but the thought of him lying in a pool of his own vomit spurred him on. With his arm out to the side, he started to reach for the bag.

Just as he had thought; it was beyond his grasp. If Ryan had been sleeping in a single bed he wouldn't have had the problem. But he had insisted on having a double so he could wallow about with plenty of space, and now it had come back to bite him. He was going to have to move.

He began to inch his shoulders to the left, trying to move as little of his torso as possible. The small movements did not raise many objections from his body, but it was extremely slow going, especially with the great pangs of hunger exploding wildly in his stomach.

Eventually he had positioned himself diagonally across his bed with the sweets within reach. He had to stretch out at an awkward angle to get to them, but as he closed his hand around the packet he could feel the chewy goodness within. However, when he came to try and pick it up he found he simply did not have the strength to grip it.

_This is pathetic!_ he berated himself. _What kind of man can't pick up a bag of sweets?_

He tried again and failed.

_Okay then, time for Plan B_ , he thought.

His bedside unit was right up against his bed and he managed to drag the bag towards him so that it flopped down onto the mattress.

_I should have opened this bloody thing beforehand_ , he reflected ruefully, staring at the sealed packet, now only a few centimetres from his face. To the casual observer his toils would have made for an hilarious scene, but in truth Ryan needed to get some food inside him, fast.

With a monumental effort, he managed to bring his right arm across his body, and in doing so he rolled onto his side. He stared at the bag of sweets, which did not stare back but betrayed an air of smugness as it sat there, tantalisingly close but resolutely sealed.

'Bastard,' Ryan said to it. The bag ignored him, but it made him feel a little better.

He reached out with both hands and tried to grip the top of it, but having failed to even pick the packet up there was no way he was going to get enough purchase to pull it open. His hands simply had no strength in them. They felt incredibly feeble and Ryan hated it.

'Come on!' he growled to himself in frustration. 'All I need is a few of you inside me and I'll be all right.'

He edged the packet even closer to his face and started chewing at the edges in desperation. Suddenly his teeth bit through one corner, creating a small nick that, with a little work, he was able to make big enough for the sweets to fit through. He tipped the bag up and several of its bright, sugar-coated contents tumbled out onto the mattress.

He vacuumed them up greedily without a moment's pause, and then rolled onto his back and savoured the beautiful flavours and sweet goodness, as he slowly chewed away. Even before he had swallowed any of them he began to feel strength returning to his fatigued muscles. It was as though his body had been keeping just a small amount of energy in reserve, until it was certain that sustenance was forthcoming.

'Oh my God, that tastes so good,' said Ryan out loud, heaving a big sigh and reaching into the packet for more.

A kaleidoscope of flavours dazzled his taste buds, and he closed his eyes and revelled in the feeling of returning from the brink. Over the next few minutes the number of sweets in the bag dwindled, until finally the last fruity treat passed into Ryan's greedy maw. He lay there for a while longer, sucking the sugar from the outside, before succumbing to the temptation to chew it up and swallow it. It passed down to join the others in his stomach, which growled its gratitude, and Ryan finally felt himself again.

_Now, where was I?_ he mused.

With all the effort it had taken to get the sweets inside him the memory of his dream had all but faded. He racked his brain and suddenly Billy's face appeared, wearing the same strange expression of approval that Ryan had seen earlier. It hung there for a moment, and Ryan, for a horrible, fleeting second, wondered why he was lying in bed thinking about Billy Richards. Then everything began to fall into place; the encampment, their capture, Captain Nibbles and their escape. He needed to get back there and help his friends.

He brushed the empty sweet packet onto the floor and rolled over and pulled his duvet up close to his head. Its softness and warmth felt nice and snug around him, but Ryan was very much awake, and the more he thought about how he had to get to sleep, the more alert he became. The quantity of sugar he had just consumed was not helping matters.

He tossed and turned for a while, his body refusing to let his attention wander and allow him to neglect it in such a way again. There was nothing Ryan could do. No amount of willing it was going to make him fall asleep. Bored and frustrated, he climbed out of bed and switched on one of his games consoles. If he was going to stay awake he might as well enjoy it. He sat for a while, waging a one man war on the occupants of some far-flung tropical paradise where some sinister research was taking place. However, as Ryan progressed, his face bathed in a bright swathe of colour, he found that his normally razor-sharp reactions were diminishing. His timing was all off and he was missing what would usually have been bread-and-butter kills for him.

As a distant sniper picked him off for the third time in succession, Ryan began to see the outline of a volcanic island mapping itself over the fading on-screen image of his body slumping to the floor. As he suddenly realised what was happening, his mind switched on again and he steered himself back to the river that led down from the gates of the Spire. The point where he, Daisy and Billy had entered the dream was somehow lodged in the back of his mind like a bookmark. He recognised it immediately, allowing it to fill with colour as he made his return to the Dream Isle.
18

He arrived back on the same wide, sweeping bend in the river where they had found the dream earlier. Ryan was now getting accustomed to his robotic form, and he smiled as a stone shattered beneath his foot as he stepped towards the water. He wished he could carry some of his traits back to the waking world, or even into the dreams themselves. It was certainly more fun than being himself.

He set off along the rocky bank, keeping his eyes – or whatever optical devices his head was fitted with – peeled for any sign of Billy and Daisy tearing through the countryside in a heavily modified golf buggy. Having expended so much energy in creating the thing, Ryan thought it was rather unfair that he had not had the chance to enjoy it himself. After several minutes jogging along the water's edge he caught sight of a familiar figure in one of the dreams. It wasn't either of his school friends, but Tristram.

Ryan stopped and watched it drift lethargically by. He wasn't sure what to do. Unless Tristram had left the dream and entered another it had to be the right one. He had not considered the possibility that he might end up rejoining it in a different part of the story. It was hard to get his head around.

Keeping pace with the dream, he watched it for a while as his tutor, sporting a German military uniform he had presumably magicked into existence, approached a checkpoint on the outskirts of a small town. He exchanged words with a couple of the hamsters manning it, who appeared indifferent to the fact that he was a human being, and passed on down a small stretch of track and into the town. It appeared quiet enough, so Ryan decided to make his move and dived into the dream.

He arrived on the road barely a dozen paces behind his tutor. The sky was dark, but a glow to his right suggested that morning wasn't far off.

'Tristram!' Ryan hissed. There didn't appear to be anyone about, but he decided that a little caution would not go amiss.

His tutor stopped in his tracks, and there was an awkward moment while they both stood motionless in the middle of the street. Slowly Tristram turned to face him, brandishing a small hand gun that the boy could swear had not been there a moment before.

'Ryan?' he said in a hushed whisper.

The boy shrugged and smiled.

Tristram relaxed and beckoned Ryan to follow him into a dark passage between two houses.

'Ryan, what the hell are you doing here?' he asked, when he was satisfied that they were sufficiently concealed.

'I'm here to help you,' said Ryan plainly.

'Oh no you're not,' said Tristram, grabbing him by the shoulders. 'You've no idea what's going on here. This is not a game.'

Ryan shrugged him off and instinctively went on the defensive.

'Look, I know why you're here. You're trying to find Sophie, aren't you? Well, she's our friend too. That's why we've come to help.'

'How do you kn... hang on a second. We? Don't tell me you brought Daisy too.'

'And Billy, but I've lost them both.'

'Christ. Ryan, you've just tripled my work-load for tonight. Now I've got to find all three of them.'

'What's the big deal? So you've got to overcome a few Nazi hamsters. We managed to get away from them.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.'

For the briefest of moments Tristram looked impressed. But his stern expression swiftly returned.

'That's not the point,' he said curtly. 'I don't know how you know about Sophie, but you're right. However, there's more going on here than you know. Ordinarily we would have left her to just work her way through the dream, but one of Rasputin's followers was seen entering it shortly before her.'

Ryan's face dropped.

'Exactly,' nodded Tristram. 'I don't know what made her come here, and to be honest I'm not that bothered. I'm just here to put a stop to whatever game Rasputin and his buddies are playing, and to keep Sophie safe, so I can't afford to have you tagging along. I want you to leave the dream and return to the Spire.'

'But I've only just got back here,' protested Ryan. 'Do you have any idea how long it took me to get back to sleep after that sugar rush?'

Tristram looked confused.

'Yes, I've been Dreamweaving,' said Ryan grumpily. 'Sorry to disappoint you, oh great master, but I really thought I could help.'

'Well, I'm glad you are putting your skills to use, but this is not the place Ryan, really. There's stuff going on here that doesn't add up and I'm worried the situation may be worse than it appears. It's too dangerous.'

'So you're going to do it on your own? I don't see any of the Academy rushing to your aid, so it can't be that bad.'

'Something's not right. I don't know what, but there's something. Even dreams can have rules too, you know.'

'Okay fine, but you're stuck with me until I can wake myself up. And I don't know how to do that apart from by Dreamweaving until I run out of energy. Plus, I just ate a whole bag of sweets, so it could take a while.'

'Okay, okay, you win,' chuckled Tristram. 'God, you're annoying when you put your mind to it. You know, I could just send you back myself, but that would be a waste of my own reserves.'

'You can do that?'

'Oh yes, but you won't learn Expulsion for a while yet. Anyway, I wasted enough energy making this.'

He tossed Ryan the pistol he was holding.

'You're giving this to me?' asked Ryan incredulously.

'Might as well. It's not like I'm one of your parents. The least you can do is to watch my back, but don't get carried away, right?'

Ryan gave a mock salute.

'Ja. So vere are ve going?' he asked, doing a rather good impersonation of Captain Nibbles.

Tristram pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and held it up in the dim light so that Ryan could just about see what was on it. It was a map, presumably of the surrounding area.

'I liberated this from our furry friends,' he grinned.

'Billy nicked one too,' laughed Ryan. 'I wonder if they've got any left.'

'Good for him,' said Tristram. 'Anyway, if you take a look it's fairly easy to read. We've got a few villages around here, mountains to the north and forests pretty much everywhere else. Now, being a dream, it's extremely unlikely that any part of the tale will play out beyond the boundaries of this map, so we can assume that this is our playing field. Take a look at it more closely and see if you can work out where the story is leading us to.'

Ryan squinted in the pre-dawn light. The map was fairly simplistic, with roads joining the scattered villages and the countryside around them only vaguely mapped out. One feature stood out like no other however; a castle, nestled away in the mountains to the north. He pointed at it.

'There,' he said firmly. 'Castle Meerschweinchen.'

'Spot on,' said Tristram. 'You've done this before.'

'Too much time spent playing computer games. Nazis always hole themselves up in castles. Do you reckon that's where Sophie is?'

'That's my guess.'

'Hey,' said Ryan. 'Does Meerschweinchen mean what I think it means?'

Tristram raised his eyebrows.

'That's the best thing about dreams; something weird and new every day.'

Ryan smiled.

'Okay, so how do we get to Guinea Pig Castle?' he asked.

'Well, we're here,' said Tristram, pointing to a village to the south-east. All we've got to do is head this way.'

He traced the line of a road that led in a north-westerly direction until they were almost directly due south of the castle.

'It looks like there's a river to cross,' observed Ryan, pointing to another line that intersected the road as it bent north into the mountains.

'Just another obstacle,' shrugged Tristram. 'Hopefully it's not too deep. Hey, we'd best get moving. It'll be daylight soon and we'll want to keep unseen since you're not in uniform.'

'By the way, that's a good look,' smirked Ryan.

'Shut up and get moving.'

They headed cautiously back out onto the snow-covered streets, their footprints the only blemish in the pristine white carpet beneath them. The crunch of it under foot reminded Ryan of his robotic form back on the Isle, and he felt reassured despite the eerie stillness in the village. Every window was heavily shuttered against the night and no sound could be heard save their footfalls. If there were any inhabitants around they were in no mood to venture outside, which suited Ryan and Tristram just fine.

It was not until they reached the centre of the village that they encountered any form of life. They arrived in a small square, the centrepiece of which was a fountain; its waters frozen in a huge icy cone. It was a bleakly beautiful monument and they couldn't resist taking a closer look. As they drew nearer, a solitary timber wolf appeared from behind it, sniffing the ground and occasionally stopping to forage for food. Upon seeing the two of them, it stopped and eyed them with curiosity for a few moments, before carrying along on its way.

Tristram and Ryan watched it go, captivated by the magical feel of the place. It was only when a low droning noise, which had been slowly growing in the distance, became too loud to ignore that they snapped out of it. Tristram cast a grim look up at the night sky.

'We need to go,' he said firmly.

At that very moment, a number of powerful searchlights cut into the low covering of cloud and an unseen – but fearfully close – flak battery burst into life, pumping shells into the night sky that would burst at altitude into shards of deadly shrapnel. A second later they heard the first whistle of an incoming aerial bombardment.

Tristram sprinted towards the far corner of the square with Ryan panting at his heels. They dived for cover behind a low wall, as behind them the first bomb shattered the fountain into a million pieces, vaporising the icicles and frozen water in a wide radius around it. A second bomb landed, and a third, carving a broad swathe of destruction through the south-east quarter of the village.

Now the place was starting to wake up. The blackout had failed to protect it from attack, though with the cloud cover it was impossible to tell whether or not the strike had been deliberate or just a lucky hit. There came the sound of activity from within several nearby buildings, and shutters and doors began to fly open as the residents sought to flee the raid.

Ryan looked at Tristram, who indicated that they needed to keep moving. Together they crawled to the far end of the wall, where another street led away from the square and the devastation.

'This is the one,' said Tristram, taking a quick glance at the map.

'You sure?' asked Ryan.

Rather than taking a second look, his tutor cast his gaze back into the skies beyond the square.

'Yep,' he nodded.

'How far is it?'

'Quite a way. We need some wheels.'

They darted off down the street, which was illuminated in patches by light filtering through un-shuttered windows. They kept to the walls as much as possible, but it was only a matter of time before they ran into someone. Suddenly Ryan spied a ramshackle garage that was tacked onto the side of one of the buildings. He called out to Tristram, who came over to investigate. Within its unglamorous confines, hidden beneath a tarpaulin, sat a motorbike and sidecar.

'Perfect!' cried Tristram. 'Quick, get in.'

'What? In there?' asked Ryan, looking dubiously at the small cockpit and wondering whether it could actually accommodate him.

'Yes. Get in now. Those planes are coming back and we don't want to be here when this place goes up!'

Suddenly a thought struck Ryan.

'Hang on a minute. What happened to the other bike you had? Someone said you were seen stealing one.'

Tristram gave him a rather sheepish look.

'I... err... I kind of trashed that one. But don't worry about that now, we need to go.'

'Like that's reassuring,' moaned Ryan.

He gave the sidecar one more doubtful look and then climbed in. There really wasn't an awful lot to it; a small cocoon of metal with an insufficiently padded seat, a wind deflector and a wheel to his right. This last feature he found quite alarming, since the lack of space and his corpulent frame meant that he couldn't keep his arms inside, leaving the wheel awfully close to his elbow.

He was given no time to raise any more concerns though, as Tristram leapt onto the bike's saddle and fired it into life. At that very moment the second wave of bombardment began, shaking the foundations of the buildings around them and drowning out the sound of the bike back-firing, as Tristram gunned the engine. In a shower of snow from the garage roof, they tore out into the street, drifting and slewing from one side to the other as Tristram fought to gather the bike up. Ryan turned awkwardly in his seat and was nearly blinded by an explosion, as a bomb annihilated the building they had just been sitting next to.

'Bloody hell!' he cried. 'Crank it open Tristram, we need to get out of here!'

'Easy, easy,' came the reply. 'If I put this one in a wall as well, that's not going to help us.'

Suddenly, up ahead, the lights of another vehicle cut through the darkness, dazzling them both. Clearly the occupants did not have much of a grasp on what was going on in the village, but when they caught sight of the carnage being wrought behind the fleeing motorcycle they took evasive action. With no attempt to slow down, the vehicle – a small off-roader – turned sharply and began pirouetting down the street towards them.

Tristram swore so vehemently that Ryan was too shocked to come up with a curse of his own. The front end of the vehicle ploughed into one of the buildings to their right, but its momentum kept it cannoning down the street like a whirling dervish.

'We're gonna die!' cried Ryan.

Tristram gritted his teeth and tried to judge whether they had any chance of getting through unscathed.

'Stop the bike!' shouted Ryan.

His sentence was punctuated by a percussive succession of explosions that rattled his insides and denounced his statement as being a really bad idea. Suddenly Tristram came to a decision and twisted the throttle hard, sending the bike leaping forwards towards a gap between the spinning vehicle and the left-hand wall; a gap that was closing far too quickly for them to have any chance of getting through in time.

'What are you doing?' cried Ryan, not at all happy that he had been left out of the decision.

'Cover your face,' came the reply.

As the gap closed to nothing and the truck slammed into the wall yet again, now only a few metres ahead of them, Tristram feathered the throttle. Then as it ricocheted away and the gap opened up, he let it rip, and they surged past in a shower of mortar and shattered glass. A second later the off-roader was no more, as another bomb impacted and blew it to smithereens.

'Woohoo!' yelled Tristram, a huge smile spread across his face. He reached across and ruffled Ryan's hair as the boy emerged from behind his hands.

He muttered something rather rude under his breath.

'What's that?' asked Tristram, above the noise of the engine.

'I said; you're a bloody lunatic!' replied Ryan, who couldn't help smiling back. In truth, he had only been seconds away from soiling himself.

'What? Have you never done anything like that in one of your computer games?'

'Well, yeah, but this is a bit different, isn't it?'

'Not really,' said Tristram. 'Just use your imagination.'

Another stomach-churning explosion almost lifted the bike off the ground, reminding them that they weren't out of danger yet. They were on the outskirts of the village and could see a thick pine forest up ahead. The road stretched out towards it and across their path lay a barrier, flanked by two hamsters who were watching the annihilation of the village in wide-eyed disbelief.

There was no time to exchange pleasantries, and Ryan was forced to cover his face for a second time, as the motorcycle smashed through the checkpoint and sped away into the wood.

As Ryan shook the detritus out of his hair he looked over his shoulder and saw the two hamsters angrily shaking their paws at them, while behind them the second wave of bombings had left the settlement in ruins.

He sighed and settled back into his seat facing forwards again, as Tristram kept the throttle wide open and they raced on through the dark wood. The sky had brightened a little, but they still required everything the bike's feeble headlight could give them in order to see the road ahead.

'Okay, you can slow down a bit,' said Ryan, realising that he was gripping the rim of the cockpit so hard that his knuckles were as white as the snow being thrown up beside him.

'You all right down there?' smiled Tristram. 'Didn't scare you, did I?'

'No,' scoffed Ryan. 'You're a total nutter though. What happened back there? We should be dead by now, or awake at least. How did you get us out of that?'

Tristram laughed.

'You mean; did I do any Dreamweaving to stack the odds in our favour? I'm afraid the answer is 'no'. That was all plain luck, or perhaps good judgement. Feel free to look at it either way.'

'What? So you just winged it?'

'Yep. I'm afraid I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie at heart, and dreams like this help me to get it out of my system.'

'Well, would you mind checking with me first next time? You know; before you decide to take your next hit?' Ryan frowned.

'You'd have said 'no'.'

'I... well, not necessarily. It was a pretty awesome manoeuvre, I'll give you that.'

'You've still got a lot to learn about dreams, Ryan,' Tristram grinned. 'You need to just relax and go with the flow. The crazier an idea sounds, the more likely it is to work.'

'There must be limits though, surely?'

'Of course, and that's where Dreamweaving comes in. It allows you to take those limits and throw them out of the window. But remember this; Dreamweaving may be tough on the body, but as you get better at it, the temptation will be to use it at every turn. However, more often than not it's easier just to roll with the story. Some of the best experiences I've had have come from plain old-fashioned dreaming.'

'I'll bear that in mind. So, what next?'

Tristram eased the throttle back and they slowed to a more gentle cruise.

'We carry on along this road until we reach that river. From there, your guess is as good as mine, but we shouldn't be far from the castle.'

'And you think Soph will be there?'

'If she's still in the dream at all. I rather hope she isn't. The presence of Rasputin's men is worrying, and it would be better if none of you were here. I hope the Academy is keeping an eye on things.'

'There was nobody standing around looking in the dream when I came back,' said Ryan.

'Ah, no, there are other methods of monitoring dreams that we have. However, what you've said does mean it will take them a while to reach us if things go awry. The library is having a few teething problems and is not yet ready to be used in anger. We're stuck with doing things the old way for the time being.'

'The library?' frowned Ryan.

'I'll explain later, if I get the chance.'

Ryan looked up at Tristram.

'You really like drip feeding me information, don't you?'

'I just give you sufficient to dige...'

Tristram's features were suddenly cast into shadow. They both looked over their shoulders and saw a pair of bright lights tearing up the road behind them. Whatever it was looked and sounded extremely big, and Tristram did not hesitate in opening up the throttle again to save them being run off the road.

'Hang on,' he yelled, as they turned into a tight hairpin corner. The bike drifted round it facing nearly at right angles to its direction of travel.

As Tristram got it squared up again, Ryan looked behind them and saw the lights of the vehicle swing round the corner with far less drama.

'They're gaining on us!' he cried.

'Well then, now might be a good time to ready that gun of yours,' replied Tristram.

Ryan had completely forgotten about it. He had tucked the pistol away into the waistband of his trousers, as he'd seen done in so many movies, and had not given it a second thought. He had been wondering why his seat felt so uncomfortable.

'I'm not sure whether I can get at it,' he said, trying to make space around the rim of the tiny cockpit to fit his hand down.

'Where is it?' asked Tristram.

'I tucked it down the back of my pants,' he said, rather embarrassed.

'You did wh... what did you do that for?'

'Dunno. It seemed like the best place to put it.'

'Sure, if you want to blast yourself a new one,' said Tristram. 'Oh, hang on, mind yourself.'

He swerved the bike to avoid a low hanging branch and deftly flicked it into another long, sliding turn.

'All right, so it was a bad idea,' said Ryan when they had straightened up once more. 'What do you want me to do about it?'

'Can you stand up and reach it?'

'With you driving like that? I don't think so.'

'Those idiots behind us are closing in and there's no way off this road. Look, we're on a straight now. I'll hold it steady.'

'Can't you do a 'weave or something?'

'I already did one to create the gun that's now stuffed down your butt-crack. Now, sort it out!'

'Okay, okay,' said Ryan sulkily.

He placed both hands on the rim of the cockpit and readied himself for a push.

'Hang on; corner!' shouted Tristram.

Ryan hunkered down again and strained against the lateral forces that tried to rip his head from his shoulders.

'Okay, you're good to go,' said Tristram, as he finished fighting them out of a wild fish-tail. The noise of the pursuing vehicle's engine was uncomfortably close behind them, and they no longer needed to look over their shoulders to gauge its distance.

'Right, here goes,' said Ryan, satisfied that what he could see of the road up ahead was straight, flat and free of obstacles. 'Don't you dare try and throw me out.'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' replied Tristram.

Ryan tensed his arms and pushed hard on the edge of the cockpit, hugely conscious of the wheel spinning at an insane speed close to his right knuckles. It went all right at first; his body was free to move up and out of the seat and he was able to shuffle his feet back slightly to get a bit more of a push. Then, all of a sudden, something snagged.

He tried again, pressing hard with his arms and legs, but something was preventing him from getting up.

'What are you waiting for?' asked Tristram.

'I can't... something's caught,' said Ryan, continuing his struggle. 'I think it's my trousers.'

Tristram glanced over and burst out laughing.

'It's the gun, you idiot! It's caught under the rim of the cockpit.'

Ryan squirmed and tried to look over his shoulder, but was dazzled by the lights of the vehicle behind them, which was now right on their tail and weaving dangerously.

'Come on Ryan, that thing's going to have us any moment.'

Ryan strained again and finally succeeded in getting to his feet. Unfortunately it was at the expense of his trousers, which remained in the cockpit with the snagged gun. Tristram looked over at him again and began crying with laughter. When he turned back to the road he was too late to brake for the upcoming corner. They ploughed into a snow drift at the side of the road and were pitched into the air, sailing high over the top of it and tumbling down the bank on the far side.

For Ryan it was possibly the most undignified experience of his life; rolling down the slope with his trousers round his ankles. When he finally came to rest it felt like every inch of his body was covered in snow. He spat out a mouthful and lay there, dazed, while somewhere away to his left he could hear Tristram still laughing hysterically.

_Git_ , he thought. It was going to be a while before he lived that one down. _Thank God that Sophie wasn't around_.

Slowly, he lifted his legs off the ground and tried to shake the snow out of his trousers without covering himself further. When he had got rid of the worst of it, he wriggled them on and stood up to brush himself off.

As luck would have it they had crashed just where the forest ended and gave way to a broad, open vale, with the river they were searching for at the bottom. On the far side the land rose steeply to form a huge wall of jagged peaks and clefts, while away to the left, past where Tristram was trying to extricate himself from a large mound of snow, still giggling idiotically, was a bridge with a cluster of small buildings at either end.

Ryan braced himself for a torrent of ridicule and trudged over to join his tutor.

'Ryan! Boy, you've got some style,' said Tristram, shaking a flurry of snow out of his hair and searching around for the hat he had been wearing.

'Yeah, laugh it up,' shrugged Ryan. 'Get it all out of your system now.'

'No, seriously, that wasn't quite the tactic I was looking to employ, but it seemed to work. Look, we're here in one piece and we managed to lose our tail. A job well done, I'd say.'

Ryan eyed him suspiciously, and it wasn't long before Tristram lost his composure and broke down laughing again. Ryan stood with his arms folded, not looking at all impressed. His face was red with a mixture of embarrassment and the cold. Suddenly there came the snarl of a large petrol engine and a pair of headlight beams swung out across the vale from the road at the top of the bank. Slowly, the nose of a vehicle appeared and stopped, looking out over the broad panorama. Tristram stopped laughing and stared up at it grimly.

'What should we do?' asked Ryan.

'Well, there's not much point in running,' replied his tutor. There was no cover between them and the forest, and the snow was too deep to allow them to reach it without being spotted. 'You could try mooning them again. That might work.'

'You're funny,' said Ryan, deadpan.

As he stared up at the silhouette of the vehicle, something twigged in Ryan's mind. He eyed it for a few moments longer and then it came to him.

'That's Daisy and Billy up there!' he exclaimed, starting to make his way up the slope towards the lights.

'What? Ryan, wait...'

Tristram took a couple of long bounds and fell into step next to him. Suddenly the unmistakable silhouette of Daisy Rose appeared in front of the vehicle, her features cast into shadow by the glare of its lights. Upon spotting them she waved joyously and shouted down.

'Ryan! Tristram! It's us! It's us!'

Tristram looked over at Ryan and shook his head.

'I sincerely hope we weren't fleeing from those two,' he said.

Me too, thought Ryan, though he knew deep down that they had witnessed his moment of shame.

The awkward shape of Billy Richards appeared beside Daisy and gave them a curt, far less enthusiastic wave.

'Well, that's two out of three,' said Tristram. 'One more to find. How did you know it was them?'

Ryan gave an arrogant snort.

'I made that vehicle, didn't I?' he said nonchalantly. It wasn't quite the truth, but he considered it to be close enough.

Tristram looked suitably impressed.

'Then, as your teacher, I feel I should take a look at your handiwork and give you marks out of ten.'

As they neared the top of the slope, Daisy could no longer contain herself and came tumbling towards them in an avalanche of affection. They caught hold of her as she threatened to sweep straight past them and down to the river.

'It's so good to see the two of you,' she gushed, hugging them both in turn. 'I didn't recognise you in that outfit Tristram. And Ryan, I can't believe you made it back here. We've been terribly lost without you, but the buggy's been working perfectly.'

'Looks like judgement has already been passed,' smiled Tristram. 'I'm glad you are both safe and sound anyway. I was quite concerned when Ryan told me you were here too.'

'Oh we've been fine,' beamed Daisy. 'Billy's been a bit of a grump, but I think that's because of my bad map reading. This place is so beautiful that I've been a bit distracted and have missed a few turnings.'

'Well, you're here now and that's what matters,' said Tristram. 'I had been banking on the two of you showing up sooner or later; dreams often work that way. Right, let's take a look at this contraption of yours, Ryan.'

They climbed up to the top of the bank, where Billy and the monster golf buggy were waiting. It really was an odd-looking machine; all wheels, with a tiny body perched on top. It was the vehicular equivalent of a house-spider. It appeared to have endured its journey remarkably well, though the chrome fittings that had been present when it first materialised were now dulled by a layer of dirt and grit.

'Wow!' said Tristram, taking a walk round and inspecting it with keen interest. 'That's pretty impressive, Ryan.'

'It nearly went the same way as your bike,' said Billy. 'The glare from Butler's backside nearly blinded me.'

Daisy giggled.

'Yeah, yeah, well you shouldn't have been eyeing it up,' scowled Ryan.

'Couldn't help it. It was taking up most of the road,' said Billy, rounding on him.

'Well I'm sure the guys at school will all be happy to know that you were dreaming about my butt!' snarled Ryan.

'And then maybe they'll start wondering about how you came by that piece of information. Butler, you may be good at this Dreamweaving stuff, but you're still an idiot.'

'That's enough!' said Tristram, stepping between them. 'I've got a good mind to expel both of you from here right now. I'm certainly starting to think that the Academy's decision to put you both in my group was a bad one, although it seems that when you do work together it is startling what can be achieved.'

Ryan and Billy glowered at one another like duellists at dawn; waiting for the moment for a swift and decisive strike.

'Now, I want you two to bury the hatchet,' said Tristram, stepping out of their way. 'Not in one another's backs, I might add. If you don't I'll send you both packing and you will wake up in your beds feeling pretty damn stupid. As it is, you shouldn't be here. But since you are it's a good learning opportunity, so you should be making use of it. Now, shake on it.'

Billy and Ryan stepped in close to one another. They cut an odd pairing face to face. It was like a giraffe trying to stare down a rhinoceros. Slowly Billy extended his right hand, and after a while Ryan reluctantly met it in the middle. The shake was short but firm, and a great deal more than words could convey was passed between them in that moment of contact, and through their stares. Tristram looked from one to the other and appeared satisfied that they would not give him any more grief, for the time being at least.

All of a sudden, the air was split by the sound of a gunshot and there came a loud _CLANG!_ as a bullet fizzed off the buggy's bodywork. Daisy, who had wandered round to the far side of the vehicle when the argument had kicked off, squealed and dived underneath it. The others joined her. A moment later a second shot came whizzing past and buried itself in the tread of one of the huge wheels.

'Never a dull moment here,' commented Billy.

'That's dreams for you,' said Tristram, propping himself up on his elbows and straining to see where the gunfire was coming from. A third shot rang out, and a small muzzle flash gave away a hamster with a rifle, crouching by one of the buildings next to the bridge.

'Right, there's at least one of those furry gits trying to have a pop at us, but I expect there are more,' he said. 'Now, as I told Ryan earlier, one of the most important things about field work is using what is at your disposal, rather than assuming that Dreamweaving is your best and only option.'

'So?' said Billy.

Tristram grinned at them with a devilish look in his eye.

'He's going to do something stupid,' said Ryan, not wishing for a repeat of the trouser incident.

'Maybe,' Tristram shrugged. 'Then again, maybe not. It depends on how sturdy this truck you built is.'

Ryan shrugged.

'It's a golf buggy. It would probably fall apart if you sneezed on it.'

'Oh no,' said Daisy. 'Billy and I have been all over the countryside in it. It's great!'

'That's a good enough recommendation for me,' said Tristram. He shuffled backwards across the ground until he was shielded from the shooter by one of the huge wheels. Then he got to his feet and peered back down at the others. 'Well? Are you coming then?'

They looked at one another and Ryan rolled his eyes.

'Here we go again,' he said. 'Tristram needs another adrenaline fix.'

He reluctantly followed as the others climbed into the buggy after their tutor. Ryan found himself sitting next to Daisy in one of the rear-facing seats, as Billy had positioned himself up front with Tristram. They had just sat down when the gunfire started again in earnest, accompanied by the dazzling glare of a searchlight painting them as a clear target.

'Hang on,' shouted Tristram, throwing the buggy into reverse and turning it to face the incoming fire.

The vehicle was open-sided, so it was the only way of affording them any protection, though how long the flimsy plastic screen in front of them would hold up was anyone's guess. When they were lined up, Tristram put the buggy into forward gear and floored the throttle. The machine let out a raging howl and lurched forward, sinking down so far on its rear suspension that Ryan and Daisy were perilously close to being thrown onto the enormous rear wheels.

Ryan felt her hand grab hold of his trouser leg as she instinctively tried to save herself. He also felt the few leg hairs he had started to grow in that region detach, but he gritted his teeth and was determined to be a man about it, especially with Billy around.

Up front, Sophie's brother was shouting a stream of pointless orders at Tristram, who was wearing a manic look and appeared to be enjoying the whole experience far more than was strictly necessary.

'Ryan, this thing's brilliant!' he whooped, as he sent it barrelling down the road towards the cluster of buildings.

Suddenly the sporadic gunfire exploded into a full-on hailstorm of bullets, as the rest of the hamsters guarding the bridge cottoned on to what was happening and joined in. The buggy was closing on the buildings fast, haring along a snowy causeway with banks leading down into the vale on either side. It looked like Tristram intended to drive straight through the blockade, but to their surprise – and slight horror – he suddenly turned off the road and down the right-hand bank, before throwing the buggy into a huge drift that kept the bullet-riddled screen between them and their aggressors. By the time it had straightened up they were travelling parallel to the river, heading for the causeway and the buildings perched on top of it.

'Oh Christ, he's going to jump it,' said Ryan, hoping for a contradiction.

'It sure looks that way,' grinned Tristram.

'Don't put ideas into his head!' shouted Billy, but Tristram was already hammering the buggy as fast as he could towards the embankment.

Daisy looked at Ryan wide-eyed and gripped hold of his leg again. The only thing worse than pulling the stunt they were about to do, was doing it while facing the wrong way. Ryan grabbed her hand and the small rail next to him and tried to give her a reassuring look.

'Hang on tight in the back!' yelled Tristram as the vehicle began to climb the slope. There was a brief moment when they were out of the hamsters' line of sight and the gunfire abated. The buggy continued to angle further and further up, until Ryan and Daisy had to clench their buttocks to prevent themselves from slipping off the seat.

With a wail from the engine, the wheels left the ground and they burst over the edge of the causeway, crashing through the upper storey of the nearest building and scattering its occupants. There was a beautiful moment of near-weightlessness as the vehicle reached the zenith of its travel, and Ryan couldn't help throwing Daisy a mad smile. The hamsters ceased firing their weapons and scurried for cover, as the buggy arced gracefully over the road and descended on a building on the far side. Its timber structure was no match for the thrashing wheels, which churned the roof to pieces as they smashed through it. A moment later there was the faintest of impacts, as they landed back on terra firma and tore away from the carnage they had wrought, whooping and shouting to one another.

When they were a safe distance away, Tristram slid the buggy to a halt and turned to face his passengers.

'Everyone okay?' he asked, breathing heavily from the rush of excitement. There was still a trace of the manic glint in his eyes, but he was addressing them as their tutor once more.

'You are a certified nutcase,' said Billy, whose face was even paler than usual. 'Having said that, considering we made it through that in one piece, I'd have to say that it was a pretty cool ride.'

Tristram smiled.

'It's just as I was saying; sometimes you've just got to go with the flow rather than force the story through Dreamweaving. With practice, you'll be able to pick out the opportunities as and when they arrive. How about you two at the back? Still there, I see.'

'We're fine, thank you,' said Daisy, who was still holding Ryan's hand and seemed unflustered by the whole experience.

'That was awesome,' grinned Ryan, who, despite his initial misgivings, now felt like he was part of an action movie and couldn't wait for more.

'Good, good, so who's up for another round then?'

A bit of the bravado evaporated from the buggy as the three passengers looked at him uncertainly. Tristram pointed across the river to where a similar set of buildings were guarding the far side of the bridge.

'What are you going to do? Drive across the water?' asked Billy.

'An interesting idea, but I think we'll be using the bridge.'

The three teenagers looked at one another and shrugged.

'If that last stunt worked...' said Ryan.

'Good lad,' said Tristram, and he floored the throttle again, enveloping the buggy in a blizzard as the wheels churned through the snow.

He drove them in a wide arc, linking back up with the causeway some distance from the bridge, to allow them a good run-up at the checkpoint they had just demolished. The engine howled its approval as the vehicle gathered speed, and again Ryan and Daisy braced themselves for another bumpy ride.

The first gunshots began ricocheting off the buggy's windscreen, coming not from the hamsters on the near side of the bridge, but from the opposite bank. The flimsy plastic screen continued to hold up miraculously well, although the group remained hideously exposed on all other sides. Ryan suddenly had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, as it dawned on him that once they were on the bridge he and Daisy would be sitting ducks for the hamsters they had just terrorised.

He turned round to say something about it to Tristram, but was just in time to see them smash through the blockade and tear onto the bridge.

'Dizz, get down!' he shouted, pulling her down across his lap and trying to ignore the rather strange sensation that came over him as he did so.

Up front the gunfire was intensifying, and the screen was now so covered with pock-marks that it was almost impossible to see out of.

'Go! Go! Go!' shouted Billy, seemingly unable to do anything useful other than offer encouragement.

But Tristram already had the buggy flat-out, so there was little else that could be done other than cross their fingers and hope for the best. Fortunately for Ryan and Daisy, the hamsters on the near side of the river had been more interested in saving their own pelts, so they were spared from being used for target practice.

All of a sudden, a series of deafening explosions tore at their ear drums as the pilings holding the bridge up detonated one by one. Even the heavily-sprung buggy was unable to absorb the shockwaves and Tristram swore loudly as he fought to keep it on the bridge.

'They're destroying the bridge!' shouted Billy.

'Thanks for that,' replied Tristram as cracks and holes began to appear in the roadway.

They were over half-way across, but the buggy was already going at full speed and it did not look like they had enough time to reach the far side before the bridge was swallowed up by the river. The buggy bucked and swerved as Tristram wrestled it between sections of road which were now falling away from one another. It was all the others could do to stay on board as they were tossed around by the bumpy landings and quick changes in direction. All the while there was still a hail of gunfire for them to contend with.

'Isn't this one of those times when a bit of Dreamweaving wouldn't go amiss?' shouted Ryan.

'Maybe,' returned Tristram. 'I think we're about to find out. Hang on!'

Daisy and Ryan craned their necks round and saw a gaping chasm opening up between them and the far end of the roadway. Unless Ryan had unwittingly fitted the buggy with wings and a rocket motor they were never going to make it. In a last breathless moment, the buggy left the final piece of crumbling roadway and plunged into the void. The engine screamed its objection as Tristram kept the accelerator well and truly buried. The three passengers braced themselves for the impact.

As the front wheels ploughed into the water everything around them was lost in a shower of spray. Strangely though, there was less of a sensation of slowing down than they expected, and a moment later Ryan realised why; they were still going forwards. A combination of their momentum and the buoyancy of the gigantic wheels was allowing them to stay afloat, while the thick rubber tread thrashed at the water, propelling them along.

'What do you know? It works!' cried Tristram in astonishment, as they headed between the pilings that held up the remainder of the bridge.

'Yeah, but look out for that pillar!' cried Billy as they careered towards a huge tower of concrete, sticking out of the water.

Tristram wrenched the wheel left, then right, but only succeeded in showering them all with water.

'I'm afraid the steering is not quite what it was,' he shouted.

He reached down to flick the buggy into reverse, but there was no time. The driver's-side wheel crashed into the pillar, tearing the suspension off and sending the rest of the vehicle cartwheeling into the water. Ryan and Daisy, who had spent the past few minutes hanging on for dear life, finally let go and were hurled clear, landing in water that was waist deep and shatteringly cold.

'Tristram! Billy!' cried Daisy, almost before she had resurfaced.

Looking back, the remains of the monster golf buggy were upside down next to the piling, while their two companions were nowhere to be seen. Daisy immediately began wading back out towards it, but Ryan lunged forwards and grabbed her.

'Dizz wait,' he said.

'Ryan, they may be trapped under there. We've got to help them.'

'Billy's with Tristram,' Ryan replied calmly. 'If they're in any trouble, he'll sort it out.'

Daisy looked despairingly at the stricken buggy, but gave little resistance as Ryan pulled her to the bank of the river. They dragged themselves out and sat watching as the last remaining pieces of debris fell into the water. There was no going back now. Aside from the short stretch they were now sitting under, the bridge was gone.

Suddenly a head broke the surface of the water next to one of the huge wheels and looked around wildly.

'Tristram!' cried Daisy joyfully, but Ryan immediately clamped his hand over her mouth. The cacophony that surrounded the bridge's demolition had subsided, along with the gunfire, and he was all too aware of how close they now were to the other cluster of buildings.

They sat and watched as Tristram ducked back under the water, then reappeared a few moments later and began swimming over to join them. There was no sign of Billy. Ryan could feel Daisy's body quivering and knew it had little to do with having just crawled out of a freezing river. For his part, he was feeling surprisingly comfortable.

Tristram pulled his dripping form out of the river and lay on the bank next to them.

'Billy's gone,' he said, panting slightly.

He looked at them both and Daisy's eyes widened in horror.

'No, no, it's okay. He's just woken up,' he added. 'It's probably for the best; one less person to keep track of.'

'He'd probably just be slating your driving if he was here,' said Ryan quietly.

'Probably,' replied Tristram with a smile. 'Hey, we'd best find some cover. Our furry friends will most likely come looking for us soon.'

They climbed to their feet and crept up the shallow bank to where it met with the road overhead. With daybreak only minutes away it offered them a dark place to hide while they considered their next move. They were not a moment too soon. Barely had they hunkered down next to the large concrete support that held up the edge of the roadway, when a squad of soldiers appeared close by and marched down to the water's edge to survey the wreckage.

Tristram immediately came to a decision and indicated that they should move off while the hamsters were looking the other way. They crept round the support and up to the edge of the road. Crouching down, the three of them peered over the parapet and saw a similar blockade to the one they had annihilated minutes before. It was flanked by two wooden buildings, while just beyond them the road swung to the right and began zigzagging its way up the steep mountainside. It was quiet; almost too quiet. There were no guards manning the barrier and no sign of activity in the buildings.

Ryan felt Tristram nudge him in the ribs and saw that he was pointing at another building close to the foot of the mountain. Ryan hadn't noticed it before, but now they were closer he could see that it was a cable car station. The two lines coming out of it tracked parallel to one another up the slope until they disappeared through a cleft between a pair of low-lying peaks. Tristram clearly thought that it was their best bet for reaching the castle.

'Are you sure?' Ryan hissed.

'Yeah, what's the problem?' Tristram asked.

'Well, you've knackered the last three vehicles you've used and, to be honest, I'm a bit sick of flying through the air.'

'At least your trousers were done up this time,' smirked Tristram.

Ryan glared at him.

'Okay, okay, I won't mention it again, I promise,' said his tutor. 'Besides, I won't be driving this one, so what could possibly go wrong?'

'Apart from us plummeting hundreds of metres onto jagged rocks? Can't we walk it?'

'That's the last thing I'd expect coming from you.'

'Actually, Ryan has walked to and from school every day for the past week,' put in Daisy.

'Thanks Dizz.'

'Well, you're welcome to give it a go, but the chances are that this will all be over by the time you get to the top,' Tristram shrugged.

'So you're going to use it no matter what?'

'Of course, it's part of the dream. It's got to be there for a reason.'

Ryan looked at Daisy and rolled his eyes. She gave him a smile in return.

'That's the spirit,' said Tristram, clapping them both on the shoulders. 'Follow me.'

Keeping low, he led them over to the corner of the nearest building and carefully peeped through the window.

'Not a furry soul in sight,' he whispered. 'They must have been really bored.'

They crept round the back of the building and still there was no one to be seen. They were now only thirty yards from the cable car station. Tristram checked to make sure that the coast was clear, and then, with a shrug, led them quickly across the open ground and into the building.

It was dark inside, but they resisted the temptation to find a light switch and continued on in the gloom. A cable car was hanging next to the platform, its doors enticingly ajar. They were about to take a look inside it when a noise from the far side of the open-ended room caused them to stop in their tracks.

It was a scuffling noise, but in the darkness they had no idea what was causing it. Tristram silently bade Ryan and Daisy to stay where they were while he crept forward to investigate. They watched breathlessly as he made his way along the far wall towards the open end of the station. Ryan couldn't tell whether or not their tutor had used his Dreamweaving skills to conjure up a weapon, so, just in case, he tried to focus his mind on an image of his dad, so that he had something to use if things went sour. Tristram had almost made it to the end of the building when a high-pitched voice squeaked out of the darkness.

'Who goes there?'

Tristram immediately flattened himself against the wall. Ryan's first thought was that it had to be another of the hamsters, but the accent didn't quite fit and the tone of the voice was much higher than that of any of the rodents they had encountered thus far. Sensing that danger was not imminent, Ryan beckoned to Daisy and the two of them crept over to where Tristram was standing, motionless.

'I can hear that,' came the voice again. 'Who's there?'

They were close to the open end of the building, which afforded them a little more light to see by. Looking along the wall, Ryan noticed that the last few yards were not brickwork, but a wire mesh; the kind that was used for fencing. It ran from floor to ceiling and there was the outline of a frame about halfway along, which looked suspiciously like a gate. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he pushed past Tristram, who appeared to be caught in two minds, and went to look inside.

'Stay right there,' came the voice, almost as soon as he reached the start of the fencing.

Ryan stopped in his tracks and stared into the space beyond, trying to pick out the owner of the voice. Behind the wire mesh was a sizeable alcove, within which sat the drive mechanism for the cable cars. There were several large, upright wheels connected to a shaft that, through a series of gears and a transfer box, took the power up through the ceiling and over to the huge wheel that drove the cable. Ryan wondered if all the engineering that had gone into it was strictly necessary, but before he had a chance to dwell on it he spied movement in a dark corner of the room. Slowly a creature emerged, and crept tentatively round the machinery to get a better look at him.

It was the size of a large dog, but was definitely still a rodent of some kind. Unlike the hamsters, it walked on all fours and had a long, furry tail that trailed along the floor behind it. The creature stopped at the edge of the nearest wheel and peered at Ryan through large, black eyes. Its whiskers were quivering and its nose twitched with anticipation.

'All right?' nodded Ryan, not quite sure of how best to greet it. The creature hadn't pulled a gun on him, which was a start. He sensed Tristram and Daisy join him, and the creature shrank away upon seeing the other two intruders.

'Who are you? What do you want?' it squeaked, unwilling to reveal itself any further.

Ryan looked over his shoulder at Tristram, who was wearing a rather bemused expression.

'Err... we want to use the cable car,' Ryan said, thinking that they had nothing to lose by being honest. 'Can you tell us how to turn it on?'

The question had a remarkable effect on the creature. Its meekness swiftly evaporated and was replaced by scorn.

'Turn it on? Turn it on?' it scoffed, coming out from behind the wheel and putting its front paws up on the fencing, so that it was almost face to face with Ryan. 'You hear that, lads? This idiot doesn't even have a grasp of basic mechanics.'

There came some sniggering from the far corner of the alcove and two more of the creatures emerged, shaking their heads and whispering to one another.

'Okay, steady on,' said Ryan, who never liked being made a fool of. 'We just want to get the thing working.'

'No, you said you wanted to turn it on,' said the first creature. 'That implies there's some sort of power source that can be operated by the mere flick of a switch. Now, take a good hard look in here. Can you see anything even remotely like that?'

Ryan hated rhetorical questions and was struggling to work out how he had managed to cause such offence. He gave a cursory shrug and let them continue.

'No? That's because there isn't any. No motors, no batteries, no engines, nothing. Zip. Just three big wheels and three gerbils to drive them.'

Ryan looked at his friends in disbelief.

'You? You guys power this thing?'

'Don't look so surprised,' said one of the other gerbils, joining the first one at the fence. 'This is what we do; we run in wheels. Mind you, we usually do it out of choice. And so did _they_ once.'

Ryan looked at the gate that was halfway along the fence and noticed that it was padlocked from the outside.

'You're captives?' he asked.

'Wahay! We've got a right genius here, haven't we?' sneered the first gerbil. 'Where'd you guys get him from? The circus? Discount sale on clowns, was it?'

That was enough for Ryan.

'At least I'm smart enough not to get myself captured by a group of dumb hamsters,' he retorted, although it was not exactly the truth.

The three gerbils looked stunned by his outburst.

'That's cold, my friend, cold,' said the third, padding over to join his companions. 'If you only knew what those hamsters have done to us...'

Daisy, who had been staring at the creatures with a look of unbridled adoration on her face, stepped forward and knelt down in front of them, mirroring the way they were all gripping the fencing.

'Please,' she said. 'We need your help. Our friend is in trouble and we have to get to the castle to help her.'

The first gerbil nudged the second, and Ryan could have sworn they winked at one another.

'The castle, you say?' enquired the first, shuffling along until he was face to face with her. 'Well my dear, I trust you've heard the tales of Castle Meerschweinchen, because it would be a fool indeed who headed up there unprepared. Where's the rest of your raiding party?'

'It's just us, I'm afraid,' said Daisy.

'What? You're crazy, the lot of you. With the Elite Guard up there?'

'What's the Elite Guard?'

'It's the most bloodthirsty platoon of guinea pigs you'll ever have the misfortune to run into.'

Ryan snorted and the gerbil threw him an angry glare.

'You may laugh, but you've no idea what you're in for. You think these hamsters are bad, but you ain't seen nothing yet. Those guinea pigs are evil. They'll tear you limb from limb just for the hell of it.'

'And laugh while they're doing it,' added the second.

'But we've got to try,' said Daisy. 'She's our friend.'

The third gerbil pushed between the other two and put his furry muzzle right up to the cage.

'I can see you're sincere,' he said softly. 'We'd like to help you, but understand that to get you up there requires a tremendous amount of toil on our part. We need something in return.'

'We'll set you free,' said Daisy immediately, with a look at Tristram. He nodded.

'That's a noble gesture, and one we would gratefully accept, but it would be a hollow one if we could not keep our end of the bargain. We are tired and weak and may not be able to get you all the way to your destination.'

Daisy thought for a moment, then headed to the end of the building and rolled herself a snowball from the ground outside. By the time she turned to come back it had miraculously transformed into the biggest sunflower seed that Ryan had ever seen.

'Sweet mother...' murmured one of the gerbils.

'Will this do?' asked Daisy sweetly, kneeling back down in front of them again.

The first gerbil looked at Tristram.

'Well, you may have got _him_ from the circus,' he said, nodding at Ryan. 'But this one must have come from heaven. Of course we'll help you. Just make sure you give them hell when you get there.'

'We plan to, my furry friend,' replied Tristram, walking over to the gate and ripping the padlock off with his bare hands. The gerbils stared at him in wonder. 'So, we have a deal then?'

'Absolutely,' said the third gerbil. 'It is the least we can do.'

'Great!' said Daisy. She walked into the alcove and handed them the giant sunflower seed. 'It was lovely to meet you all.'

The gerbils bowed low to her and she giggled.

'Just one thing,' said the third as she turned to go.

'Yes?'

'If you... err... if you see any of our kin up there, please, do what you can for them.'

'Of course we will,' said Daisy cheerily, and she headed out to join the others, who were climbing into the cable car.

'God bless you miss.'

Ryan had never ridden in a cable car before and was rightly nervous about the experience. There was not much to the tin box the three of them were now sitting in, and it was pretty disconcerting. He had already ridden in a golf buggy and a side car, both of which had been fairly flimsy and both of which had ended up crashing. Why couldn't he have had a tank instead?

He sat with his hands clenched around the lip of the wooden bench he was seated on, as the car lurched into motion. Daisy was sitting next to him and was waving goodbye to the gerbils, while Tristram sat opposite, looking so relaxed that Ryan expected him to drop off to sleep at any moment.

Was it possible to fall asleep in a dream? Ryan didn't know, but the thought stayed with him for a few minutes as the car began to ascend the mountainside and did a good job of keeping his mind off the drop below.

They were about to pass through the cleft they had seen from down in the valley, when suddenly the car was filled with dazzling sunlight and their eyes were drawn to the spectacular panorama below them. In the distance, to the south-east, lay the smoking remains of the village they had passed through, and they could now see that the river they had crossed passed very close to it. Tristram pulled the map out of his pocket and put it upside-down against the glass behind him. All the main features were there: the forests, the roads, the river; everything.

Then, all of a sudden, they were swallowed up by the towering peaks of the mountains and the view vanished. A huge pylon loomed up ahead, and as they clattered over the cable supports Ryan gripped his seat hard and pressed his back against the side of the cabin, breathing heavily. It was a while before he had the bottle to look out of the window again. When he did so, he saw below them a road, twisting back and forth in its attempt to keep up with them through the rugged terrain. The way ahead was shrouded in a thick blanket of cloud, and as they entered it he felt a distinct chill run down his spine. There was something sinister in the air that was almost tangible. It was like a prickling feeling at the back of his mind; an itch that could not be scratched.

'Can you feel that?' he asked, looking at Tristram, who was suddenly tense and alert.

'It's what I've been feeling the whole time we've been here,' replied their tutor. 'I've been ignoring it for a while as it seemed to be fading away, but now it's back in earnest. So much so that even you can feel it. Something's not right.'

'What do you mean?' asked Daisy, who, for once, was not smiling.

'Well, it is said that whenever someone Dreamweaves it causes a disruption in the fabric of the story. If that disturbance is great enough it can be felt by others in the dream. This is mostly just conjecture, but some work has been done to see whether there is any truth to it. Personally, I think there's got to be something going on. The amount of energy used when Dreamweaving is quite considerable, as you have already discovered, and that energy has got to go somewhere.'

'So you think someone else has been Dreamweaving here and we're feeling the effects?' asked Daisy.

Tristram nodded.

'I already know that one of Rasputin's lackeys was seen entering this dream and I'd bet my life that they are still here. The problem is, I don't know which one.'

He stared out of the window into the swirling mist in a vain attempt to catch a glimpse what might be lying in wait up ahead. Ryan slouched down in his seat, stretching his feet out so they were resting next to Tristram.

'Does it really matter?' he asked.

'Hmm?' murmured his tutor.

'Does it really matter who it is?' Ryan repeated.

'Indeed it does,' said Tristram grimly. 'Rasputin's forces have increased rapidly over the past few years, though many would attest that the quality of his recruiting, or lack thereof, has diluted his overall capabilities. However, there are plenty of his followers I would rather not run in to unprepared, especially with the two of you in tow. Your friend Damocles, for one.'

Ryan could still picture the bull-man. His astonishing yellow eyes and towering frame made him an intimidating creature to behold, and yet strangely the thought of him did not give Ryan any cause for concern. Damocles had done him no wrong, save try to sway him to Rasputin's cause, which in turn was exactly what Tristram had done for the Academy.

'Is he powerful?' he asked, just out of interest.

'Extremely. He's bad enough to tackle in the Nightmare Realm, let alone in a dream. His Physical Evolution skills are way beyond mine; probably anyone in the Academy.'

'So what's your speciality?' asked Ryan. 'Surely you could take him on with your skills?'

'Ah, now there you've hit upon our little problem,' said Tristram earnestly. 'You guys have seen me do things; little 'weaves, which might seem impressive to newcomers such as yourselves, but a Dreamweaver who has specialised in a particular discipline is capable of so much more. My problem is that I've never specialised. I'm a Jack-of-all-trades and a master of nothing, as it were. That's why I've become an Inductor; I can teach a bit of everything, a bit like those supply teachers you get at school.'

'Why didn't you?' asked Daisy.

'Specialise? I don't know. I guess I never really found the time. Don't get me wrong; I worked hard when I was in your position, and it got me where I am today, for which I'm thankful. The thing is, without trying to sound big-headed...'

'... which you will,' smirked Ryan.

Tristram gave a small smile.

'Yes, probably, but when I started I found that I was naturally good at lots of things and I tried to pursue them all, rather than concentrating on one or two. That's where I went wrong; I tried to be the best at everything and failed on all counts. It was a bit of a bummer, to be honest.'

'Surely you could still specialise?' suggested Daisy, with a kind look.

'Yeah, you said yourself that it's never too late to learn,' added Ryan.

'You're right, I did, and I do still learn new things. I have a few nifty tricks up my sleeve, but I actually get a great deal of satisfaction from working with newcomers. You see, even Dreamweavers can be narrow-minded sometimes. Many are well and truly stuck in their ways, so it's the blank canvasses – those who see the opportunities rather than the limitations – whom I find inspiring.'

There was a period of silence while the others digested all this. For Ryan in particular, the explanation did not sit right. It was like the people who grew up to become school teachers. What was the point? Why spend all that time in a hell-hole only to go straight back and spend the rest of your life there? He knew he would never be able to do it. There was too much cool stuff to see and do. It was just wrong.

Suddenly the prickling feeling at the back of his mind intensified, and he sat up and started scratching wildly at the back of his head, trying to reach the source of the irritation. Daisy and Tristram were experiencing similar discomfort, both of them pulling some rather strange faces as they fought the sensation. A few moments later it subsided back down to just a tickle, but Tristram's face remained gravely concerned.

'I'm getting you two out of here,' he said firmly. 'Something is seriously amiss and I can't warrant endangering either of you any further.'

'But we're here because we want to be,' protested Ryan. 'What about Soph? If she's in trouble we want to help her.'

'I know you do, but this is beyond either of you now. For all I know, it's beyond me too.'

'All the more reason for us to stick around,' said Ryan defiantly.

Tristram smiled at them both.

'Look, you two have been great company. We've had a lot of fun up until now and I'd hate for it to all go wrong. I'll be okay, don't you worry. The Academy will be watching what's going on and will respond if necessary. I'm afraid it's more than my job is worth to keep you here.'

Daisy smiled back and nodded her understanding, while Ryan crossed his arms and pulled the best sulk he could. Being told he couldn't do something was like a red rag to him, but it was a testament to his respect for Tristram that he didn't pursue it any further.

Their tutor got to his feet, causing the small car to swing in a rather alarming manner as his weight shifted across to their side. Ryan held on to the bench again as Tristram placed a hand, open palmed, on his head.

'Now, don't try to resist it,' he said quietly. 'There may be a slight pushing sensation in your mind. Just try to clear your thoughts and relax.'

Though the bouncing and swinging had subsided somewhat, relaxation was still the last thing on Ryan's mind. He closed his eyes and tried to block out all his senses. The tingling feeling was still lurking, letting him know that whatever mischief was afoot was still there. After a few moments it started to give way to another sensation. It was a gentle pulsing, or kneading, and it was strangely soothing; almost as if his brain was being massaged around his cranium. It felt wrong, but in a bizarrely nice way.

Suddenly Ryan felt a real push and heard Tristram say 'Bugger!' quite loudly. He opened his eyes and found that his was still in the cable car, with Daisy sitting to his left and Tristram standing in front of them. He wasn't sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved.

'What's the matter Tristram?' asked Daisy. Their tutor was staring at his hands in puzzlement.

'I... I'm not sure,' he said, shaking his head. 'It should have worked. I've performed Expulsion a hundred times. It should have worked.'

'Well, it didn't,' said Ryan helpfully.

'Maybe if I do just one of you,' he said.

He put his hand on Daisy's head and concentrated for a few moments, but nothing happened apart from a slight change in the girl's complexion – from white to very white. He then tried again on Ryan, who felt the same massaging sensation, but this time it was much rougher.

'Hey, knock it off,' he said, twisting his head to one side. 'That's my brain in there, you know.'

Tristram looked utterly baffled by what was going on. He staggered back down to his seat and continued to stare at his open palms in total bemusement.

'It should have worked,' he said again.

Ryan was in no mood to offer sympathy, following what he felt had been a minor violation of his mind.

'Well, it didn't,' he repeated. 'It looks like you're stuck with us, I'm afraid.'

Tristram looked from him to Daisy and back again, momentarily lost. Then he seemed to collect himself and gave a resigned sigh.

'Yes, it looks like I am,' he said quietly. 'Though I greatly enjoy your company, this is really not ideal. All joking aside, I honestly don't know what is happening here now, and I've got a horrible feeling we're well and truly in the brown stuff. I want you both to stick close, whatever happens. And keep your wits about you.'

Ryan slouched down in his seat again and put his hands behind his head.

'Relax Tristram,' he said. 'It's just a bunch of over-sized rodents. What the hell are they going to do to us?'

But, for once, Ryan's blasé attitude did not coax a smile out of Tristram. He sat, grim-faced, lost deep within his own thoughts. Ryan stared through the glass and wondered how long it would be until they could get out of their tiny, hanging prison.

They had all but ceased climbing now, and had the sky been clear they would have been able to appreciate the magnificent scenery they were passing through. As it was they continued to be wreathed in a thick blanket of cloud, which swirled and parted obligingly to let them through, before lazily closing up the way behind them. Occasionally the heavy grey outline of another car would loom up out of the darkness, taking the return line back down the mountain. These would often pass slightly above them, which left Ryan to ponder how three people, or two and a half if you considered Daisy's slight frame, could have such an effect on the car's weight.

They clattered over another support and Ryan still didn't feel comfortable with the way the car bounced around with minimal encouragement. Slowly things were beginning to change though. More shapes were drifting in and out of the mist, as though the walls of the mountains were closing in, funnelling them towards their destination. At the same time the prickling sensation returned, not as strongly as before, but enough to demand their full attention. All three of them were sat upright now, staring out of the front of the car. Waiting for something – anything – to appear.

'Okay, I think this could be it,' said Tristram quietly.

_Talk about stating the bleeding obvious_ , thought Ryan, who was now so tense that he had to keep reminding himself to breathe.

It was tantalisingly close, whatever it was, but time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. Then suddenly it appeared, fleetingly, as if the clouds themselves had their own sense of drama and knew exactly how much to reveal, and when. It was a castle, certainly, but not in the sense that Ryan had expected. He had been waiting to see a fortress; hewn from the very heart of the mountain and as old and strong as the earth itself. He had been expecting a medieval stronghold, with towering turrets and battlements, imposing and impenetrable. What he got was something torn straight from the pages of a fairytale; all slender spires and towers with conical roofs, some projecting out at inconceivable and impractical angles, before reaching their heads skywards. There were arched walkways spanning immeasurable gaps and narrow windows everywhere; the kind that were impossible to see into but remarkably good for seeing out of. It was breathtaking and baffling in every sense.

All this was taken in in just a handful of seconds; enough for the clouds to share a taste of their secrets. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

'Beautiful,' breathed Daisy, her face a picture of enchantment.

Ryan looked over at Tristram, whom he hoped would offer a more rational analysis of what they had just seen. However, his tutor looked just as perplexed as he was feeling and was slowly shaking his head in time with the gentle rocking of the car. After a few moments he looked Ryan in the eye and the briefest of smiles flickered across his features.

'Dreams eh?' he murmured. 'Expect the unexpected.'

'That's the stupidest phrase in the world,' said Ryan. 'How can you anticipate every possible thing that could happen?'

'I know it is,' said Tristram. 'But unfortunately it rings true for us at this juncture. Even by the standards of some of the dreams I've seen, there's something really weird going on here. Both of you stay close, okay?'

Again they sat staring into the grey mist ahead of them; tense, waiting for something to appear. It wasn't long before it began to grow dark in the cabin and they got the same sensation of everything around them closing in. Another car slipped past quietly, much closer than many of the others had been. They had to be near.

Then the upper station appeared, buried in the mountain at the foot of the citadel. It was little more than a cave. Peering up, they tried to catch another glimpse of the dreamy towers, but a thick swathe of cloud was hugging the base of the castle and within a few moments they were passing beneath solid rock. Tristram ducked down and indicated that the others should flatten themselves on the benches to keep out of sight.

It was a nervy few moments for Ryan as he waited with bated breath, unable to tell whether or not things were about to kick off. Their good luck seemed to hold however, and as the car began to turn in preparation for its voyage back down the mountain, Tristram slid the door open and the three of them hopped out and scurried towards the nearest nook that was big enough to conceal them all.
19

The station was a real grotto in the side of the mountain. The cavern had been roughly hewn out of the rock, and whoever had done so had presumably gone off for tea and not returned, leaving the engineers installing the machinery to work around the uneven surfaces and protrusions. A string of lamps were strung together round the outside of the room, offering little aid to the sparse light coming in through the cave's mouth, while everything was damp and clammy due to the high moisture content in the air. It was all so dingy that it was impossible for them to imagine that it was part of the fantasy castle they were now beneath.

When Tristram was satisfied that there really was no-one else about, they headed towards an opening at the furthest end of the cavern, where the string of lights led away, disappearing further into the mountainside. It was a narrow passage; just wide enough for two people to pass without having to get on first name terms. It appeared to have been made by the same person who had opened out the cavern; someone with an allergy for doing a job properly. A series of rough-cut stairs wound upwards in a left-hand spiral, their slick surfaces making for a tricky climb.

Tristram led the way, with Daisy following and Ryan bringing up the rear, more out of boyish pride than any real desire. As they climbed, the damp, stale air became infused with hints of more pleasant aromas. There came the smell of freshly baked bread – always a winner – followed by a variety of herbs and spices, all mingling together to form an intoxicating blend that made Ryan feel rather heady. Then came the knockout; the smell of fish and chips. Ryan's stomach growled loudly and Daisy gave a stifled laugh.

'Anyone get the feeling we're coming up under a kitchen?' whispered Tristram.

It would not be long before they found out, for up ahead the way was growing lighter and soon they found themselves standing behind a rickety wooden door. It had so many cracks and knot-holes in it that light from the other side was leaking through like a sieve.

They bunched up together, each of them keen to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. Tristram found a convenient knot-hole and carefully appraised the scene, before addressing his two understudies.

'Okay, right,' he said quietly. 'The coast looks clear. We've got a long corridor with doors leading off to either side. At the far end there's a door similar to this one. Basically we've got to do this the old-fashioned way and search every room until we find your friend. Now, there may be no sign of anyone at the moment, but that rather tantalising smell in the air would suggest otherwise. As I said before; keep your wits about you. You may be required to put some of what you have learned to good use. Are you ready?'

Ryan and Daisy both nodded. In truth, neither of them was, but the anticipation was too much to bear and they were anxious to see what the dream had in store for them next. Had they known, they might not have been so eager.

With a grim smile, Tristram reached down and turned the old cast-iron handle. The door swung open to reveal a long, stone corridor. They were clearly still underground, but this time a great deal more effort had been put into their surroundings; the flagstones on the floor were smooth and well fitted, and the brickwork was laid to a similarly high standard. Even the arched ceiling was smooth and devoid of any dampness. At various points along the walls torches were mounted, and the light these gave off was supplemented by that from a number of oil lamps hanging from the ceiling. For a fleeting moment Ryan recalled an earlier dream in which similar lighting had been used at one of his local train stations. How much had come to pass since then!

The smell in the air was now wholly that of food, with the dampness and cold of the tunnel already a distant memory. The place felt warm and inviting, despite the prevalence of bare stone, and Ryan began to relax into his surroundings. Perhaps things were going to turn out all right after all.

They walked three abreast down the passage, as there no longer seemed any point in trying to conceal themselves. But as they neared the first door, Tristram held out his hand and indicated that they should hang back while he investigated.

He reached out for the heavy iron handle and gave it a twist. Ryan's eyes flitted from the door to several points further along the corridor. With Tristram's back turned it was up to him and Daisy to be ready for any eventualities. He was extremely conscious of the fact that he had no stick to hand, nor any other item he could use to morph into something useful. Better still, he could have done with a ready-made weapon.

He was relieved when Tristram turned back to them and gave a nod.

'It's all right,' he said quietly. 'It's just a store room.'

Ryan took the opportunity to double check as they re-joined their tutor. It was a store all right; stacked to the ceiling with all kinds of food. He noticed a basket of assorted breads nearby and pulled out a fresh baguette. As Morphing material went, it was better than nothing. And besides, all the smells were making him hungry.

'If you're planning to use that in the near future, make sure there's some if it left,' said Tristram, seeing him tear off a piece and stuff it in his mouth.

Ryan merely shrugged as they made for the next door. This one, on the opposite side of the corridor, had no handle. There was only a brass plate to push against, which was stained with paw-prints. A sudden clatter from the far side told them that the room beyond was definitely occupied.

As Tristram reached out and pushed the door ajar, Ryan raised his baguette like a baseball bat, ready to swipe at anything that might come charging out. A waft of steam drifted into the passage as the door opened, and Tristram tilted his head sideways to try and see through the gap. He stayed there for several long moments, while the other two waited restlessly behind him.

'What is it Tristram?' hissed Daisy.

'Rats,' came the reply.

'What? In the kitchen?' said Ryan, wrinkling his nose. 'That's gross.'

'Well, yes,' said their tutor, turning to face them. 'But see for yourself; they're cooking!'

Ryan crept over and peered inside. Sure enough, several large brown rodents were toiling away over hot stoves. He pulled his head away and looked at Tristram.

'At least they're not _in_ the food,' he observed.

'Quite right,' Tristram nodded. 'It's much better that way, I'm sure.'

At that moment the next door down the corridor flew open, and one of the rats appeared from the far end of the kitchen. There was no time for them to do anything, for it caught sight of them the moment it entered the passageway. Their presence seemed to neither surprise nor alarm it. It merely stood there with its white apron and chequered trousers on and addressed them in a surprisingly courteous manner.

'My friends, you must be lost,' it said with a slight bow. Its French accent was easily as bad as Captain Nibbles' German one had been. 'Ze banquet is upstairs, and if you are looking for ze lavatories, I'm afraid you've come too far. Would you like me to escort you back up?'

Ryan looked at Tristram, who was clearly trying to gauge whether or not it would be a wise move.

'That would be perfect,' he said eventually.

'Really?' hissed Ryan.

'Just go with the flow,' said Tristram, leading them towards the giant rat.

'You are just in time,' it said as they neared. 'We are just about to plate up.'

'Jolly good,' nodded Tristram. 'Lead the way.'

The rat bowed again and led them along the corridor and up a flight of stairs to their left.

Ryan eyed the rat with unwavering suspicion as they went, keeping his baguette gripped tightly in his hand in case they were being led into an ambush. The rat was much larger than the gerbils they had met earlier. It was bigger even than the hamsters they had encountered along the way. Ryan began to wonder whether all the rodents he had encountered were part of some overall hierarchy, and he tried to remember what the largest species of all was. Again he kept to the back of the group, if only to avoid the creature's long, pink tail, which swished back and forth in front of them in a rather irritating manner.

As they climbed the stairs their surroundings began to grow more and more lavish, with paintings and tapestries covering the walls and a thick carpet under foot. Their footsteps could no longer be heard, leaving an uneasy silence in the air as the stairs doubled back and joined another flight that originated somewhere far below. They arrived in a broad ante-room that was more luxuriously decked out than anything they had seen thus far. There was little furniture other than a couple of small tables with vases and ornaments on them, and several large busts of furry-faced creatures, presumably of some importance in the rodent world. By contrast, each wall was covered from floor to ceiling in hugely elaborate artwork that continued to draw the eye whether the beholder wished to be looking at it or not.

Ryan noticed doors at each end of the room and a larger set of double doors directly in front of them. What really captured his attention, though, were the enormous rodents flanking them. They were easily a head taller than the rat and were garbed in full military regalia, each with machine gun at its side. They were the Elite Guard from which the castle drew its name. The rat led them across the room and nodded graciously at the two massive guinea pigs. Ryan and the others eyed them warily.

'Come on in,' said the rat, its paw on the brass knob of one of the double doors. 'Zey're expecting you.'

That comment made Tristram stop to reconsider, and Ryan nearly walked into the back of him.

'Everything all right sir?' enquired the rat.

'One moment please,' said Tristram as he turned to face the others.

'Admit it, even you are finding this weird,' said Ryan.

Tristram gave him a slow nod.

'I'm concerned about whom 'they' might be,' he said. 'Though, having said that, if there was any real danger I'm sure the Academy would have done something about it already.'

'If you can't send us back then maybe they can't get in,' suggested Daisy.

Tristram frowned.

'You may be right. Still, we've come this far. We might as well see what the end has in store, eh?'

'As long as it doesn't involve you driving,' muttered Ryan, as Tristram turned back to the rat.

'Everything in order?' it enquired.

'Absolutely,' beamed Tristram. 'Lead on, friend.'

The rat twisted a knob on the large, wooden door and pulled it open, ushering the three of them into the room beyond.

If Ryan had thought the previous room to be lavishly appointed – in a quaint, old-fashioned way – then he could not summon the words to describe the hall he now found himself in.

A huge, vaulted ceiling stretched out high above them, supported by enormous pillars set into the walls on either side. Each pillar was bedecked with an intricately carved capital and fluted shaft, while the ceiling itself was handsomely decorated, not with religious imagery – the likes of which Ryan had seen on several rather boring school trips to ancient cathedrals – but a massive painting that appeared to depict the entire history of rodent evolution, right up to a rather bloody war that the hamsters and guinea pigs seemed to do quite well out of. Further down, the walls were richly coloured and mounted with ornate candelabras, which just added to the magnificent aura within the room. At the far end was an enormous stained-glass window, again depicting the tumultuous history of the rodent world.

It was a truly awe-inspiring sight, and that was without mention of the beautiful mosaic floor, the statues lining the walls and the gargantuan table dominating the centre of the room. It was easily the biggest single piece of furniture Ryan had ever seen, stretching for nearly one hundred feet and flanked by dozens of straight-backed wooden chairs. It was set for dinner, with countless pieces of cutlery and crockery glittering in the multi-faceted light shining through the window.

'Whoa,' was all he could manage as he struggled to take it all in. The baguette dropped from his limp grasp and hit the floor in a scatter of crumbs.

'Whoa indeed,' said Tristram, who also looked impressed.

'Ryan! Tristram!' came a cry from the far end of the room. It was such a distance that Ryan struggled to make out the voice's owner until she got to her feet. Her slender form and long blonde hair were then unmistakable. He breathed a sigh of relief; glad to see that Sophie was there and seemingly unharmed.

'They said there would be more people joining us, and I hoped it would be you guys,' she called, as she skipped up the room towards them.

When she reached them she gave Tristram and Ryan a quick hug, and even spared Daisy a smile of acknowledgement.

'I'm so glad to see you safe and sound,' smiled Tristram. 'We've been terribly worried about you.'

'Really?' said Sophie, pulling an odd face. 'No, I've been well looked after. As you can see, we're about to sit down to dinner.'

'Who's we?' asked Tristram abruptly, the smile dissolving from his face.

'Oh sorry, I didn't say,' she replied, turning to Ryan. 'Jack's here. Isn't that great?'

Ryan screwed up his face in puzzlement.

'Jack?' he said bemusedly.

'Yes. You know; your best friend?' she elaborated, looking at him as if he was a bit thick.

Ryan heard an intake of breath from Daisy, but he managed to open his mouth first.

'What's Jack doing here?' he blurted.

'The same thing we are; dreaming.'

'Whoa, whoa, hang on,' said Tristram. 'You're saying that _another_ of your friends is here with us?'

'Yes, he's over there. Jack!' called Sophie.

The familiar shape of Jack Thomas rose out of a chair at the far end of the table, and she beckoned for him to join them. But Tristram grabbed her hand mid-wave.

'Wait, wait. He's not a Dreamweaver, is he?'

'I don't think so,' said Sophie.

'Christ!' exclaimed Tristram, running his hands through his hair and looking around the room in exasperation. 'How much have you told him?'

'About what?' asked Sophie, taken aback by his curt manner.

'About Dreamweaving, of course! About us and the Academy.'

'Nothing at all. At least, I don't think so. What's the matter? Is there a problem?'

Tristram sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Everything has just got ten times more complicated,' he said. 'But at least we've found you. Now I can start thinking about how to get us all out of here.'

'Why? What's wrong with this place? I like it.'

'Butler! What are you doing here?'

Jack had just realised whom Sophie was standing with and came galloping over to give his friend a dead-arm.

'Ow!' cried Ryan, recoiling from the punch. He threw Tristram a questioning look, for at that moment he had no idea how he should react to his friend's presence. He didn't get a lot in return.

'You big wuss,' grinned Jack. 'Hey, I see you brought your other half along.' He nodded at Daisy.

'Yeah, yeah,' shrugged Ryan before she could say anything.

'So, what's going on here? Some kind of school reunion?' Jack asked. 'Can I expect anyone else along? You didn't invite your buddy Harry, did you?'

Ryan gave him a sardonic smile.

'Ha ha,' he said flatly. 'You're barely funny at school, and even less so in my dreams.'

'Okay, okay, hang on a minute,' interrupted Tristram, making a late bid to steer Ryan's conversation away from dangerous issues. 'Why don't we go and sit down? I hear food is on the way.'

'Who is this?' asked Jack, pointing at him.

'Just a friend,' Tristram replied, ushering them down the room. When they were all on their way he took Ryan by the arm and pulled him to one side.

'What?' asked the boy, getting slightly annoyed by Tristram's erratic behaviour.

'Okay Ryan, here's the deal: interaction between Dreamweavers and their real world acquaintances is strictly controlled. The Academy prefers to keep a low profile, for fear of being seen as having too much of an influence over international law and order. Careless talk about dreams and suchlike with a non-'weaver present is not good. The only way I see of resolving this is to get you all out of here. And by that, I mean waking you up.'

'You want to mess around with my head again, don't you?' said Ryan, sagging.

'I'm afraid so. It's just to see whether it's possible to expel you now that we've found Sophie. I'd rather not do it in front of your friend. Things are already weird enough as it is.'

Ryan rolled his eyes and spread his arms wide, as if he was about to be subjected to a body search.

'Go on then,' he sighed.

As he had done in the cable car, Tristram reached out and placed a hand on Ryan's head. There came the same massaging sensation in his mind, which grew to be more and more forceful until he was certain it couldn't be doing him any good. He stepped to one side and cast the hand away.

'All right, that's your lot,' he scowled, rubbing his forehead tentatively. 'It's not a stress-ball, you know.'

'Sorry Ryan,' said Tristram, looking agitatedly back at the huge doors through which they had entered.

Ryan followed his gaze, and he noticed for the first time that the two guinea pigs that had been flanking the door on the way in were now guarding the entrance from the inside.

'What do you suppose that means?' he frowned.

'I think it's fairly obvious,' replied his tutor. 'They don't want us to leave. I'll just check to make sure.'

He strode back up the room and approached the two guards. They towered over him, eyes fixed somewhere in the middle-distance and their rifles clasped rigidly against their chests. It wasn't until Tristram made to open the door that they even so much as acknowledged his presence. With astonishing speed and well-drilled fluidity they turned to face him, bringing their weapons to bear so that the bayonets were millimetres from his neck.

Tristram froze, and Ryan heard a gasp from Daisy, who had obediently seated herself at the table. Slowly their tutor raised his hands, not looking at either of the guards, both of whom were stock-still once more. Ryan doubted he would ever be able to go round a pet store in the same frame of mind again.

He wished he could see what was going through Tristram's mind. He desperately hoped that his tutor was not about to do something reckless, but past experience did not fill him with confidence. He did not have to wait long for his answer.

Tristram's speed of movement matched that of his aggressors as he thrust his hands upwards, grabbing both rifles and wrenching them from their grasp. Almost immediately the guns began to change, the stocks turning ashen and the muzzles crumbling in a cascade of metallic powder. Tristram took several steps back as the guinea pigs rounded on him, baring their huge incisors and brandishing their brutal claws. He cast the shapeless remains of the guns to one side and rolled his neck and shoulders in preparation for combat. As much as Ryan respected Tristram's abilities, he couldn't help thinking that his tutor had bitten off more than he could chew.

Ryan was standing only a few feet away from the table, which was laden with a vast array of Morphing fodder. He made a lunge for one of the knives, but at that moment the prickling sensation he had been ignoring for a while exploded in his head, tearing at the back of his mind and causing his legs to give way beneath him. He cracked his head on the back of one of the wooden chairs and slumped to the floor, as the distressed cries of his friends rang out.

Lying on his back, dazed and unable to properly focus on anything, he watched the room swim and distort in front of his eyes. The colour left the beautiful artwork on the walls and the ceiling became a grim mass of weathered concrete and stone. He rolled onto his side and saw the statues crumbling and changing, taking on human forms but no longer the pristine works of art they had been before; now broken, decayed and uncared for.

Almost as swiftly as it had arisen, the horrible sensation in Ryan's mind subsided, this time disappearing altogether. As his head struggled to gather the strands of his sanity back together, and his focus returned, he realised that the room really _had_ changed. The colour and beauty had drained from every facet, and he was lying on the floor of a stark, soulless hall, devoid of any warmth or grandeur.

Slowly he staggered to his feet. It was still the same room; the table was there, but nothing on it sparkled, the window at the far end was there, but it was heavily stained and only permitted a sickly green light through. Even the pillars, which had probably changed the least out of everything, were no longer majestic to behold, but ominous and foreboding, giving a feeling that they were pressing in and squeezing the remaining life out of the room.

There came a cry from the end of the room, and Ryan turned in time to see Tristram's limp body fly through the air, before landing in a shower of broken crockery in the middle of the gnarled, twisted table. Daisy screamed, and Ryan saw that the guinea pigs had been replaced by two enormous creatures, barely human beneath their sallow skin, which was stretched taut across flesh and bone such that every sinew could be seen. The eyes, set deep within their sunken sockets, were cruel and heartless, with no light in them; not even a flicker of humanity. They wore the same brown uniforms, but they were ill-fitting and torn in places, unable to contain the monstrosities within.

After all his doom-mongering, Tristram had been right; there _had_ been something wrong with the dream. Or maybe a sugar-coated topping had simply blinded them from the reality. All the rodents and fancy décor had just been a ruse. Ryan knew that what lay before him was the truth, and it was infinitely more bleak than anything he could have imagined.

He turned his gaze to his friends at the opposite end of the table. The faces of both girls were masks of horror, made all the more disturbing by the foul light filtering through the tarnished window behind them. To see the two girls in his life – one, his oldest friend, the other, the object of his affection – looking so distraught was like a poisoned arrow through his heart.

Already he found himself fighting to suppress a rising wrath that, if allowed to manifest itself, untamed, had the potential to risk not only his own life, but theirs too. Then there was Jack. What the hell was he doing here? Dream time was supposed to be Ryan's time with Sophie, not his. Did he even have the faintest idea what was going on? Ryan doubted it. He was just a passenger. But that didn't stop an ugly feeling of loathing from passing through Ryan's mind. This was his adventure. Jack shouldn't be here.

The sudden sound of the doors being thrown open cut through Ryan's tumultuous thoughts like a red-hot blade, severing any attempt at rationalisation and commanding every bit of his attention. He rounded again, struggling to stay abreast of a situation that was already way out of his control.

The great wooden doors, now rotting and split like the one at the end of the underground passage, were thrown back, and in the opening, outlined by a hazy yellow light coming from behind them, stood two men. For a bizarre moment it looked to Ryan like the sort of entrance a low rent rock star might make, but then the two men stepped forward so that they could be seen properly and realised that it was just a trick of the light. These guys meant business.

The two men were remarkably similar in appearance and stature, neither being particularly tall or solidly built. However, their shaven, scarred heads gave them an immediate air of menace. Their eyes were pale blue; so pale in fact, that had they been a few shades lighter they would have probably blended in with the rest of the eyeballs. Their skin was wan and blotchy, as if it suffered from a lack of natural light, and they were dressed wholly in black.

In fact, the only difference between the two men that Ryan could make out from where he was standing, was that the one on the right appeared to be slightly older, with a few wrinkles bisecting the more numerous scars on his face.

'My friends,' said the younger of the two, stretching out his arms in a mock greeting. 'Welcome to our little get together.'

His voice had an eastern European lilt to it, but this time it was genuine, as opposed to some of the terrible accents they had encountered throughout the course of the dream.

'My name is Skeiron, and this is my brother, Kaikias,' he continued. 'We shall be your hosts for the evening. I'm pleased to see that most of you are keen to get stuck in, but I believe we also have a party-pooper in our midst.'

The two men began walking down either side of the table. Ryan was rooted to the spot, unable to work out whether he should run, fight, or go and sit with the others. However, for the time being he felt strangely invisible, so he remained where he was as the quirky drama unfolded. The two men stopped next to Tristram's prone form. Ryan's tutor had not moved since he had landed, and with all the shattered crockery around and beneath him Ryan was beginning to fear the worst.

The younger brother, Skeiron, leaned over so that his face was only a few centimetres from Tristram's. He gave a gruesome smile.

'Hello Mr Ainsworth,' he leered. 'Fancy seeing you here. Were you going somewhere?'

'Hello Dmitry,' Tristram replied. His lips barely moved, but the relief Ryan felt from hearing his voice was immense. 'I was just going to the toilet. I don't think much of your hospitality so far.'

'I'm sorry you feel that way,' said Skeiron. 'We'll make every effort to ensure things are more comfortable for you from now on.'

He clapped his hands twice and the two hideous guards came marching round to his side.

'We have a special guest,' he sneered to them. 'Put him at the head of the table.'

Immediately one of the guards took Tristram by the throat, while the other grabbed him by the crotch. Together they lifted him clean off the table and carried him like a sack of potatoes to the far end of the room, while he made a series of strange gurgling noises.

Daisy let out another impromptu squeal, which seemed to delight the two brothers.

'My dear, we are just showing him to his seat,' grinned Skeiron as Tristram was cast into the chair at the end of the table.

The two men continued striding down the room towards the rest of the group, but the malevolence in their eyes was too much for Ryan.

'Leave them alone!' he said, not quite sure why he expected them to actually listen to him.

Both men stopped in their tracks and looked at him as though he had just appeared out of thin air. The older of the two, Kaikias, was on Ryan's side of the table, and walked slowly over with the same leering grin on his face.

'Well, well, look who we have here, Skeiron. It's the one that got away.'

He was not much taller than Ryan, and certainly weighed less, but as he came and stood well inside the boy's personal space, his pallid eyes boring into him, Ryan suddenly realised who he was facing and was filled with dread.

'Ah...' drawled Kaikias, looking over his shoulder and giving his brother a wink. 'He remembers who we are. We really thought you would enjoy spending time with us, but you chose this cretin instead.'

He pointed at Tristram, who was sitting with his head in his hands while Daisy stroked his arm anxiously.

Ryan remembered all right. He would not easily forget his dizzying ride out of the Nightmare Realm with the two bat-like creatures in pursuit. The last thing he had seen before Tristram had come to his rescue were those haunting eyes. Faced with them again, with his tutor seemingly out of action, it was certainly not the time for heroics. Still, it wasn't going to stop him from saying something unhelpful.

'From what I remember, he kicked both your butts.'

It was probably a stupid thing to do, but from where Ryan was standing he figured he didn't really have a lot to lose. However, the comment only served to broaden the grin on Kaikias' face.

'And look at your friend now,' he crowed, walking over and grabbing Tristram by the hair.

'Please, don't...' cried Daisy.

'Not much use to you now, is he?' called Kaikias, ignoring her.

Ryan had no reply. His capacity for defiant quips only extended so far.

'Perhaps you would like to join him?'

Skeiron's voice in his right ear came as a major shock. Ryan had no idea how the other brother had crept up on him without being noticed. Recognising that he was hopelessly out of his depth, Ryan obeyed. He took up the seat opposite Daisy, with Sophie to his right and Tristram, on the end, to his left. He tried to give Daisy a reassuring smile, but failed. Instead, he caught Jack's eye. His friend was sitting next to Daisy, looking neither afraid nor angry about what was going on; merely perplexed. He gave Ryan a nod, which in the school yard would have been a casual, 'All right?'

Given the current circumstances, Ryan had to assume it was a genuine question. He gave a nod in reply, which he hoped was as reassuring as possible.

'Right,' said Skeiron in a mockingly chirpy manner. 'Now that you're all sitting comfortably, it's time for the festivities to begin. The food will be with you shortly. But first, how about some music?'

He clapped his hands and an organ struck up somewhere deep within the castle. Its mournful discord was apparently sweet music to the ears of the brothers.

'Ah, that is better,' cried Skeiron, breathing deeply and dramatically, savouring every note. He gave a pirouette and dropped smoothly down on to one knee next to Daisy, offering her a black rose from his lapel. To Ryan's right, Kaikias made the same gesture to Sophie.

'May I have this dance?' they asked in unison.

Sophie looked repelled by the idea and Daisy was genuinely scared, but both girls got to their feet; there was little point in resisting. The brothers swept them away, leading them in a sickening dance to the dreadful music, which rose and felling in an awkward and uncomfortable rhythm. Ryan was beginning to feel the anger well up inside him again, when he felt a hand touch his left arm.

He jumped, and turned to see Tristram staring fixedly at him through the ragged locks of his dark mane.

'Ryan, listen to me very carefully,' he hissed. Only his eyes and lips were moving, and Ryan understood from his gaze that it was dangerous for them to be seen talking. He gave a nod and pretended to be enthralled by the foul dance going on around him.

'These two men are Vladimir and Dmitry Kramarenko. They are both extremely dangerous. At the Academy they are known as the Puppet Masters, for they take delight in manipulating others and have a flair for the over-dramatic. Believe me when I say that you must not, under any circumstances, confront them. They are powerful Dreamweavers, or Nightweavers as they like to be known, and they are equally as cruel. As you can see, they like to play with their prey. But eventually they will grow tired and before that time comes we need to be out of here.'

'Are you okay then?' asked Ryan through gritted teeth.

'I'm fine,' Tristram replied grimly. 'I've been playing up to it in the hope that it would spark the Academy into life. However, I think that whatever they have woven to keep us here is also preventing help from arriving. Either that or they are not watching us at all. I dearly hope it's the former.'

'What's your plan then?' asked Ryan, grimacing as Kaikias' hand roved down Sophie's lower back and beyond.

'Wait for an opportunity, then cause as much carnage as possible,' said Tristram simply. 'When that happens you need to take the others and get as far away from these guys as possible. Do whatever it takes, but just put as much distance between yourselves and them as you can. Take your friend too, for they will not spare him. With any luck I'll be able to break the 'weave that's holding us captive and we can get the hell out of here. Understood?'

Ryan gave a curt nod.

'What about you?' he hissed.

Tristram's grip on his arm tightened, and he winced.

'Do not think of me,' said his tutor in a hoarse whisper. 'This is beyond you Ryan. This is life and death now!'

Ryan pulled his arm away from Tristram and steeled his gaze on Sophie. He hated being told that he wasn't up to something. It was just the sort of crap he got from his dad. What hurt more was that this time it was true.

The music rose to an excruciating crescendo and the dance reached its climax. Both girls were returned to their seats; traumatised, but otherwise unharmed. Skeiron and Kaikias, both wearing sickening grins, came over and stood either side of Tristram, who had resumed his defeated posture.

'What do you think brother?' smirked Kaikias. 'Something for the boys now?'

'Of course,' agreed Skeiron, clearly revelling in their despicable double-act. 'We wouldn't want them to miss out, would we?'

He clapped his hands and the organ started up again, this time accompanied by a sitar and a set of bagpipes. It was a more up-tempo number, but that really was all that could be said for it. The odd combination of instruments, coupled with the dreadful way in which they were being played, resulted in a hideous din.

A few moments after it had started, the doors at the end of the hall flew open again and a long line of women in black clothes entered. None of them moved in time with the music, which in any case would have been almost impossible, but from a distance their skinny forms and bare midriffs looked surprisingly appealing. For a brief moment Ryan thought their luck might have turned. However, as they drew closer he saw that beneath the veils they were wearing dwelt the same, soulless eyes and hideous visages as those of the guards.

They proceeded to weave an insufferable dance around the group, shaking their deathly grey skin in front of them in a way that wasn't in the least bit arousing. When one of them sidled up to Ryan and draped itself across his lap, he had to turn away from the stench of the thing.

'What's the matter boy?' shouted Kaikias, delighting in his disgust. 'You never had a belly dance before?'

Ryan glared at him, trying to quell the rush of nausea that was building up inside.

'Show him what you've got girls!' encouraged Skeiron.

Just when Ryan thought the dance couldn't get any more repulsive, the creature in his lap reached down to its midriff and tore it wide open with its ragged nails, exposing a mess of blackened, rotting entrails. The sight of it pushed Ryan over the edge and he vomited violently in the creature's face; something he did derive a small amount of satisfaction from.

The dancer merely squealed with delight and started wiping its face with its hands, licking them in a despicable manner, while all around them the other creatures were gleefully disembowelling themselves.

'That's it girls, let it all hang out!' screamed Skeiron, leaping up onto the table and joining in the dance. His brother swiftly joined him and together they pretended to tear out and consume one another's insides, scattering crockery which smashed on the hard stone floor and only added to the ever-growing din.

Ryan Butler had watched his fair share of horror movies. He had also experienced several pretty nasty nightmares. But what was playing out before him was another level of depravity and derangement altogether. He looked round the table at his friends. Sophie's tear-streaked face wore a deathly mask and Daisy had her head in her hands and was sobbing uncontrollably. It had to stop.

Ryan turned to Tristram, who appeared to have sensed that he had reached the end of his tether and was looking straight at him.

'I don't think I fancy sticking around for dinner,' said his tutor.

'It looks like they're about to serve it up,' replied Ryan as an entrail landed on the plate in front of him.

'I think you're right,' said Tristram. 'I've had enough of this.'

He grasped the edge of the table with both hands.

'Remember what I told you,' he said.

Ryan nodded.

Then Tristram lifted the end of the table as if it was just a bed sheet and threw it down at the ground. A huge ripple surged down its length, sending everything on top of it flying into the air, including the two brothers. It was such an awesome spectacle that for a moment Ryan just sat there, mouth agape, as everything around him seemed to hang in mid-air.

'Ryan, what are you waiting for?' yelled Tristram, who was on his feet and preparing to meet the two giant guards, who were already charging down the room towards him.

Ryan snapped out of it immediately and looked across the table at Jack, who appeared to be just a passenger on the spiralling train of chaos.

'Oi! Jack, you dopey git! Help me get the girls out of here!' he shouted.

His friend nodded in dumb agreement, and Ryan turned to Sophie and grabbed her by the arm.

'We need to go,' he said firmly.

'What's happening Ryan?' she cried. 'What is this?'

'It's a complete bloody mess and we're leaving,' he said, getting to his feet and pulling her with him. Across the table he saw Jack doing the same to a distraught Daisy.

He began coaxing Sophie down the room, while trying to protect her from the rain of plates, knives and cups that were falling all around them. Suddenly he heard the thunder of feet and only just managed to push Sophie out of the way as one of the guards came hurtling past. As he scrabbled on the porcelain and entrail-strewn floor, he looked over his shoulder to see the two huge creatures bearing down on Tristram. His tutor had cast his chair to one side and was standing ready for his attackers.

'They're going to destroy him,' thought Ryan as the two beasts closed, preparing to run him down.

However, in the split-second before the moment of impact, Tristram moved. He stepped forwards into a long stance and thrust forwards with both his elbows. There was a sickening crunch as the two creatures hit him, and for a moment Ryan thought Tristram's arms had been ripped clean off. But to his astonishment his tutor did not move an inch. Instead, the two beasts folded as if they had just run straight into a steel bar. Their legs flew out from under them and their shattered bodies crumpled to the ground at Tristram's feet. His tutor appeared totally unharmed.

'Jesus,' said Ryan out loud. 'Perhaps he really does know what he's doing.'

He turned back to Sophie to keep her moving and saw Kaikias climbing to his feet nearby. The man's eyes flicked from them to Tristram and back again.

'Get them!' he screamed at the disembowelled dancers, who had been running around like headless – or gutless – chickens since the carnage had begun. 'Feast on them! I want nothing left!'

Immediately they responded, rounding on the four escaping prisoners.

'Go Soph!' cried Ryan, pushing her towards the door and breaking into a run himself.

Suddenly in front of him, he saw the remains of the baguette he had brought into the room. He scooped it up without breaking stride, and as one of the grotesque creatures stepped into his path it had already changed into a baseball bat. He swung it hard at the beast's head and there was a strangely satisfying _SPLAT!_ as the dancer collapsed to one side. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Daisy and Jack racing towards the door up ahead. They were going to make it.

When the others were clear of the threshold, Ryan turned to take one last look at the decimated room. Tristram was at the far end, squaring off with the brothers in front of the huge window, while closing in on Ryan's position were a dozen or so of the disfigured dancers. Suddenly there was a blinding flash from the far end of the room and the creatures screamed and fled towards him. Ryan turned and ran.
20

The others were already heading down the stairs to the kitchen level, and Ryan followed them, the dancers hot on his tail. The whole castle was now just a ruined shell; a grim shade of its former self. The stonework was crumbling and there was a damp, foul smell in the air. As Ryan and the others headed down into its bowels he knew that the kitchens were unlikely to be there. And if by a small miracle they were, who knew what horrors lay in store? Their only chance was to make it outside, and Ryan hoped to God that the cable car was still working.

At the bottom of the stairs the others stopped and Ryan piled into the back of them.

'Keep running!' he cried.

'Where to?' replied Jack, who had been leading them.

Ryan looked down the corridor in both directions. There was barely anything left of either of the doors at its ends and he had no idea which of them to go for. Hearing the clamour of the creatures on the stairs close behind, Ryan took a guess and pushed his friends in the direction of one of the openings.

'Go! Go!' he shouted. 'I'll fend them off.'

'Ryan, wait!' cried Daisy, grabbing him by the arm. 'You've got to come with us.'

'No, you go. I'm gonna give these bitches a beating,' he snarled.

'Then I'm staying with you.'

'No Dizz...'

At that moment the first of the hideous dancers appeared, leaking a trail of black fluids behind it. Ryan brandished his bat and when it was within range took a swing. There was a horrible squeal and the beast collapsed onto the stairs. The second arrived and tripped over the fallen body of the first. Ryan pounced and clubbed it over the back of the head. Daisy gave a cry of revulsion as a shower of black fluid sprayed into the air.

'Dizz, get back!' shouted Ryan.

'They're coming down the other side,' she replied.

Ryan looked over and saw another of the creatures creeping towards him. He began backing down the corridor as yet more of them arrived.

'Ryan, come on!' said Daisy, pulling on his arm. 'There's too many of them.'

'I'm coming,' he shouted, felling another of the dancers.

The others snarled at him and lunged forwards. He and Daisy backed up further. They were almost in the passageway now.

'You can't take them all on,' said Daisy. 'But we can cut them off. Come on, let's get in the passage.'

Ryan looked behind him and saw the steps leading away into the darkness.

'Come on Butler!' he heard Jack shout.

Already Daisy was on the first step, grasping the broken remains of the door.

'All right,' said Ryan, joining her. 'Do it.'

Daisy closed her eyes, but for a moment nothing happened except that the creatures in the corridor stopped in their tracks, apparently sensing something otherworldly at work. Then Ryan saw it; the smashed remains of the door were knitting back together, creating a solid barrier between them and the dancers.

'That's great Dizz,' encouraged Ryan. 'Keep it going.'

The doorway was already half closed.

'That's it,' he said, and then suddenly, while there was still just enough room for his frame, he squeezed back through into the corridor.

'Ryan, no!' he heard Sophie call.

'Butler, what are you doing?' came Jack's voice.

'Me and the bat are going to pay a visit to whoever was playing those damned bagpipes,' he growled. 'Get out of here, all of you!'

'No!' cried Daisy, but the gap was almost closed.

'I _can_ do this,' he snarled, wielding the bat. Up ahead the dancers were grinning at him malevolently, enticing him forwards.

'I eat the undead for breakfast,' he said, grinning back. And he charged.

It was a confused few moments, which Ryan struggled to recall when he tried to look back on it later. All the creatures had come at him at once, snarling and dripping their bodily fluids everywhere. But then there was a gap in his memories. The next thing he knew he was standing over their bodies, bat in hand, wiping the streaks of black blood from his face. It was an odd feeling. He must have just gone absolutely berserk. Still, it had all worked out rather well. Walking gingerly on the slick stone floor he made his way back along the corridor and up the stairs.

As he neared the ante-room again he felt a strange dizziness come over him. The air was alive with energy, and as he staggered and leant against the wall for balance, Tristram's words rang clear in his mind; 'This is beyond you, Ryan. This is life and death'. For the first time, Ryan could feel some real power at work. He looked at the bat he had formed from the remains of an old French stick and suddenly it seemed woefully inadequate. In class he would have been quite proud of it, but having seen first-hand the forces Tristram had at his disposal it just didn't compare. If Tristram was losing the fight, what on earth could Ryan hope to offer?

He slumped against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to fight off the feeling of hopelessness that was welling up. Suddenly his father's face appeared before him; the stern, proud features appraising him, looking for signs of weakness. And signs of failure.

'No!' Ryan roared, rising to his feet and swinging his bat at the non-existent image. 'I _can_ do things. I am good enough for you. In fact, I'M BETTER!'

The last words came out at a near scream, and he charged up the stairs and across the ante-room, paying little heed now to any of the weird sensations that assaulted his body as he neared the great hall. Without any pause for thought, he leaped through the doorway with a cry that became lost within the deafening noise inside.

There were sensations he could ignore, then there were the laws of physics, which he could not. Unfortunately, in his absence, someone had wreaked havoc with the gravity settings in the room, and as he crossed the threshold there came a weird twisting feeling, which started with his leading hand and ran right through his body to his trailing foot. Suddenly he sensed that, rather than being upright, his body was now travelling parallel to the ground. He had no time to readjust himself as Newton's laws did a quick recalculation and sent him crashing against the left-hand wall, which was now the floor.

The impact knocked the wind out of him, and when he opened his eyes everything was a funny shade of green. It took him a while to reorientate himself and get used to his new perspective on the room. Most of the green tinge eventually faded from his vision, but there remained the sickly light filtering through the window at the far end.

The place was a mess. Barely a single item of furniture had escaped decimation in the battle between Tristram and the two Nightweavers. Porcelain and splintered wood covered the newly allocated floor, while the huge table had been rent in two by some power Ryan couldn't possibly imagine.

Even as he looked on, one half of it began to move, as a rain of debris continued to fall from the ruined walls and ceiling. It rose into the air, upright, towering over everything beneath it. Then it planted itself on the floor, standing proudly on its own, and from behind it the two brothers appeared. They were both bloodied and beaten, and all of the sadistic glee that had prevailed earlier was now gone. Their eyes were filled with reckless hatred, and again Ryan was hit with the desolate feeling that he really had no place in this battle.

Slowly the second half of the table rose into the air, manipulated by the brothers as if it weighed nothing at all. Immediately Ryan noticed a dark shape on the floor that had previously been concealed. It was Tristram.

Ryan's heart sank even further. All his hopes of arriving to find luck on his side, and for him to be able to play a part in a glorious victory, were gone. As the second half of the table fused into place, forming an enormous cross in the centre of the room, the brothers turned their attention to Ryan's fallen tutor.

This time it was no ruse. Tristram was beaten. He had been no match for the power of the two vicious Nightweavers. Skeiron and Kaikias stood over him, kicking his body and shouting obscenities at him. Then, using whatever power and understanding they shared, they raised him high into the air until his body was at the centre of the cross, arms stretched out to either side.

'What do you reckon brother?' cried Skeiron with a mirthless laugh, picking up one of the many knives that littered the floor. 'Hands or feet first?'

'Oh, hands definitely,' replied Kaikias. 'Then he can hang around while we skewer the rest of him.'

To Ryan's horror, Skeiron took the knife and hurled it at one of Tristram's outstretched hands. It fizzed through the air and embedded itself deep in the wood, missing his right thumb and forefinger by a whisker.

Kaikias turned to his brother and cuffed him across the face.

'What are you playing at?' he screamed. 'You're useless. Let me show you how it's done.'

He reached down to pick up another piece of cutlery, but, unbeknown to him, Ryan had already started to move. He wasn't going to sit around and watch his friend get crucified. Bat in hand, he covered the ground between them with more speed than he could possibly have managed in the real world, and as Kaikias raised his arm to take his shot, Ryan leapt forwards and belted it as hard as he could at the elbow. There was a dreadful _CRACK!_ as the joint gave way and doubled back on itself, limp and useless. Kaikias screamed in pain, but Ryan wasn't finished. He rounded on Skeiron, who was too dumbstruck to react, and cracked him as hard as he could across the side of the head.

At that moment several things happened at once. Tristram's body, still suspended in front of the cross, began to fall. At the same time gravity decided to revert back to its normal plane, sending everything and everyone hurtling back towards the real floor. As Ryan crashed to the ground for the second time in quick succession, he was suddenly aware of other voices in the room, shouting.

He struggled into a sitting position and was astonished to find the ungainly shape of Billy Richards standing over him.

Billy offered him a hand.

'On your feet Butler,' he said with the faintest of smiles. 'We're getting you out of here.'

Ryan took it, his head still reeling from another mind-bending experience.

'Who is we?' he asked dreamily.

'We, is me,' came another voice. 'And him.'

Ryan turned and was confronted by a filthy-looking man, with unkempt hair, tatty clothes and a beard that looked like it contained the remnants of at least three meals.

'Rex Bailey,' said the man, holding out a hand. It was clad in a fingerless glove. 'Glad to make your acquaintance, again.'

'A pleasure,' said Ryan, shaking it, but still not quite comprehending what was going on.

'We've been trying to get to you, but couldn't,' explained Billy. 'They had some 'weave going, but you broke it.'

'Okay, okay,' said Rex. 'We can have a full debrief later. Let's get you both out of here.'

'Tristram...' groaned Ryan.

'He's already gone,' said Rex grimly. 'I just hope to God that they didn't do too much damage to him. Now, are you ready?'

Ryan gave the faintest of nods.

He felt Rex's hand on his forehead, then for a brief moment his brain felt a strange massaging sensation. Then came a gentle push and everything went black.
21

Ryan's eyes had only been open a few seconds before he threw up violently over his bedroom floor. He groaned loudly, thinking it was grossly unfair that he hadn't been given any warning. He was slumped at the foot of his bed, the warm light of morning bathing his face through the skylight above him. In front of him his huge TV screen glowed softly, politely asking whether or not he wanted to continue his game. The joypad he had been using had slipped from his grasp and was lying on the floor next to him. He picked it up and selected _Yes_.

Unlike his other Dreamweaving experiences, he hadn't woken up to a crippling hunger, although having chucked up the remains of his sweet-feast he did feel a little empty. What was far more noticeable were the aches and pains all through his body. It felt like he had gone twelve rounds with Harry Hopkins and his cronies. He tried not to move too much, content instead just to twiddle his thumbs and play his game, unwilling to find out the full extent of his beating.

After a while he decided that it couldn't be all that bad, since his gaming skills were back up to their usual high standards. He chuckled softly to himself as he ripped through the jungle in a jeep, mowing down everything and everyone in his path. He had played through the level many times, but now he found himself appreciating it in a whole new light; noticing subtle details and marvelling at how fluid and natural the controls felt. Eventually though, the puddle of vomit next to him began to smell and he knew he couldn't put off dealing with it any longer.

He climbed slowly to his feet, wincing as every muscle in his body complained, including many he had no idea were there. As he straightened, a sudden head rush hit him and he staggered, narrowly missing the puddle of multicoloured sick and nearly knocking his TV off its stand as he grabbed at it for support. He stood there for a moment, swaying gently, as the blood in his arteries began to do its job properly. Unfortunately, when the dizzy spell had passed it left behind a thumping headache, so he resolved to deal with that first and attend to the vomit later.

Staggering like a zombie, he left his room and made his way downstairs. The house was bright and airy, filled with fresh morning air and sunlight. Ryan's mum was busy dusting and cleaning and had thrown open all the windows and doors. She smiled at him as he shuffled into the kitchen.

'Good afternoon, sleepy,' she said, coming over and kissing him on the head through his shock of bed hair.

Normally Ryan would have rejected such an act of tenderness, but that morning everything felt different and it gave him a surprisingly nice feeling.

'What time is it?' he mumbled, too focussed on finding a cure for his pounding head to take a look at the clock on the microwave.

'Oh, I was just joking honey. It's eleven thirty; nearly afternoon, but not quite.'

Ryan rummaged around in the medicine draw and found a packet of paracetamol. He broke a couple of tablets out of their packaging, popped them in his mouth and stuck his head under the tap to wash them down.

'Baby, please use a glass,' asked his mum politely. 'You know I don't like it when you do that.'

'Sorry,' mumbled Ryan, who had sprayed half the work top with water in the process.

'Oh look, you've got something on your T-shirt,' she added, coming over with a cloth.

Ryan looked down and saw the regurgitated remains of one of the sweets stuck to his chest.

'No mum, it's okay,' he said. 'It's just a bit of sick.'

'Really?' she replied. 'Have you been poorly?' Then she adopted a slightly sterner tone. 'You didn't eat that whole bag of sweets, did you?'

'Yeah, maybe,' muttered Ryan. 'But that's not it. I was ill anyway.'

'Well, I hope you made it to the bathroom. You know, you should try getting an early night for a change. I'm sure staying up so late doesn't do you any good.'

'Yeah, yeah,' he said, pulling a slice of bread out of the bread bin, folding it up and stuffing it in his mouth.

'Are you deliberately trying to wind me up?' asked his mum, coming over and sweeping up the crumbs he had dropped on the counter.

'Sorry mum,' he said, spraying a load more out in the process.

'Ryan, not the floor too!'

She went to cuff him around the back of the head, but he hopped out of reach, giggling idiotically.

'You're a nightmare,' she said.

'I'm a teenager,' he replied.

'Okay, cheeky. Now, you go and sort yourself out before Daisy comes over. I'm sure she doesn't want to see you with sick on your clothes.'

'Oh crap, Dizz!' cried Ryan, and he turned and legged it back upstairs.

Since waking up, Ryan's brain had been operating on minimal systems and hadn't quite gotten round to analysing the twisted events of that night. The fates of his friends hadn't even crossed his mind, and he felt extremely guilty for not having spared them a thought sooner.

Back in his room, he scrabbled around for his mobile phone and hurriedly sent a text message to Sophie. He wasn't sure what to do about Jack, so he sent him one telling him that he had missed out on some top quality gaming the previous evening. Then he jumped in the shower; the puddle of sick would have to wait just a little bit longer.

Daisy Rose did not own a mobile phone. Even if she had done, the chances of it being switched on, or her even knowing what to do with it, were pretty slim. Therefore Ryan planned to go and check up on her in person. It said a great deal about how far their relationship had come in the past week that he was prepared to head round and knock on the Roses' front door. It was something he hadn't done for years.

He also took a little longer over his appearance than he normally did, especially for a Sunday. It wasn't like he was off to church with his grandparents, but after all they had been through in the dream, and the care and concern Daisy had shown for him, he felt he owed it to her to make a bit of an effort. That alone was a sign that Ryan Butler was not quite his usual self; he never normally felt like he owed anything to anyone. Still, he was fully aware of what he was doing and figured that he could go back to being a scruffy teenager the following day.

Once dressed, he headed out of the front door and into the glorious May sunshine.

Even though the grim corridors and damp, heavy air of the castle had been a dream, Ryan's body felt more alive than ever as he sucked in great lungfuls of fresh, spring air. The whole experience seemed to have given him a new appreciation for the waking world, which was a sane, familiar place that was unlikely to turn inside out on a whim.

The gravel on the driveway was satisfyingly pliant and the blossoming trees were full of radiant colour. Ryan hoped that his new-found appreciation for blossom was fleeting; any comment to such effect would take a long time to live down amongst his friends. But again, for this day at least, he was happy to be showing a slightly more sensitive side to himself. And who knew? Perhaps he would be able to understand some of what Daisy Rose was on about for a change.

He opened the gate at the end of the drive and stepped out into the lane. Then he had to dart swiftly out of the way as an off-roader came pelting past, giving no consideration for what might be in the road or coming the other way.

Ryan swore loudly and stooped to pick up a stone, but the vehicle was travelling way too fast and was gone before he had a chance to throw it. He took a deep breath and smiled inwardly. That was more like the Ryan Butler everyone knew.

He walked the few yards to Daisy's gate and headed through it, continuing to enjoy being out in the fresh air, rather than being cooped up in the dingy citadel. The Roses' house was different to his, being laid out in a large L-shape, rather than the more traditional rectangle. The front door was situated such that it was overlooked by the enormous lounge, above which sat the master bedroom. Ryan had always wondered whether the Roses had a thing about seeing people before being seen, or whether they used it as an early warning so that they could decide whether or not to answer the door. In any case, it came as little surprise that he was still several yards from the front door when it flew open and out bowled Daisy, almost falling over herself to embrace him.

'Ryan!' she cried, throwing her arms around him and almost leaving the floor in her excitement. 'I'm so glad you're all right. I was going to come over, but I've been so out of sorts since waking up.'

Ryan staggered slightly and then, rather than pushing her away, returned the embrace. It felt nice.

'Yeah, I've been feeling a bit rough too,' he smiled. 'I'm glad you're okay. It was a pretty crazy night, eh?'

Daisy pulled away and looked at him, her eyes like burning sapphires.

'Oh it was horrible, wasn't it? It started off quite fun, but then it just became the most awful thing I've ever experienced. I never want to go to sleep again.'

He could see that she had been genuinely traumatised by the experience. It was so sad to see that he did something else rather uncharacteristic, and hugged her again.

'It's all right Dizz, it's over,' he said soothingly.

She gave a small sob and pulled away again.

'I'm so glad,' she said, tears streaking her beautiful, pale skin. 'But you were so brave. You got us through it.'

Ryan Butler did a good line in turning red when embarrassed, but this time he out-did himself. He positively glowed in the early afternoon sunlight, and there was no way he could look Daisy in the eye. He muttered something incomprehensible and she laughed loudly and truly.

'How about that walk?' she said.

'Good idea,' muttered Ryan, thankful to have changed the subject.

It was impossible to imagine a more perfect day to be out enjoying the woods and hills around Picklewick. It was warm and sunny, with just the smallest scattering of high cloud and a light south-westerly breeze rippling through the trees, clearing out any stuffiness from the woodlands. It really was a throwback to the endless summers Ryan and Daisy had spent together exploring and playing, when the hills around their houses had felt like the entire world on their doorsteps.

Much had changed since those days. Innocence had grown into immaturity, and with it Ryan's perspective on the merits of the countryside had changed. It was no longer an untapped well of possibilities, but somewhere he had to pass through in order to get between the places he really wanted to be. But on that gorgeous Sunday afternoon things were different. Ryan's insular mind was suddenly open to his surroundings and he embraced the outdoors wholeheartedly for the first time in years.

He smiled at Daisy Rose as they walked together up the lane towards one of their old haunts. Her appearance was irresistibly quirky, having paired a floral dress with Wellington boots and her hair in a French plait. It was an outfit that said so much about her as a person, but Ryan couldn't resist questioning her about it.

'What's with the boots?' he laughed, as they turned off the road and climbed a stile that led them into a farmer's field.

'Oh, you know,' Daisy replied in her usual carefree manner. 'Who knows where we'll end up? Don't you remember how mucky we used to get?'

Ryan did, and suddenly he felt a little foolish for donning a pair of expensive white trainers for their jaunt. On more than one occasion in the past he had returned from an adventure with Daisy soaking wet and caked in mud from head to foot. Usually it was from trying to navigate his way across a bog using logs or stepping stones, or from a failed attempt at jumping a stream. One place in particular was responsible for most of the scoldings he had received from his mother, and that was where they were now heading.

'I think I brought the wrong shoes,' he grinned, stepping off the stile gingerly onto the only patch of dry ground in the vicinity.

'You do remember why they call it Snake Lake?' replied Daisy, happily hopping down into the mud.

'The 'Snake' part, or the 'Lake' part?' he asked.

'Well, we never did find any snakes in it,' said Daisy as they negotiated the mire. They began walking alongside the hedge that skirted the edge of the field, which led away downhill with a view across the vale stretching out before them. In the distance the snaking form of the bypass could be seen carving its way through the hills, its presence betrayed by the glinting bodies of the cars passing along it. It was the only man-made thing in sight.

'Do you still come down this way then?' asked Ryan, kicking at a bit of flint that was sticking out of the earth. It was a bit larger than expected and he grimaced as he stubbed his toe.

'Yes, all the time,' Daisy giggled. 'It holds so many happy memories and even now it remains pretty much our little secret. No-one seems to go down there, so bits of it are quite overgrown now.'

'Oh, right,' said Ryan thoughtfully.

There was a short pause, then Daisy asked, 'So, what happened when you went back last night? Was everything all right?'

Ryan gave a rueful smile. The subject had to crop up eventually.

'I was going to ask you the same thing,' he replied. 'I haven't heard anything from Sophie this morning.'

'I think she was fine,' said Daisy. 'But I woke up before either she or Jack Thomas did.'

'Did anything happen to you once I left?'

'No, it was pretty uneventful. Once I'd closed off the passageway I came over a little faint. I think it was because my body was dying to wake up, but couldn't. Sophie and Jack carried me back down the tunnel – you did pick the right one – but unfortunately the cable car was an absolute wreck, so we just had to sit and wait it out in that cold, dark station. Aside from feeling faint I was also sick with worry for you. I wish you hadn't left us like that.'

'Yeah, sorry about that. As it turns out though, I think I made the correct choice. That would be two on the trot for me, which must be a record.'

He grinned at Daisy, who smiled sweetly back but seemed to be expecting more from him. Ryan wasn't quite sure what to say about Tristram, so he stalled for time.

'You guys were all okay though?' he asked lamely.

'I think so. Sophie was very upset and Jack spent most of the time comforting her while we were waiting.'

'So they just left you on your own?' asked Ryan, doubly annoyed by the fact that Jack was unintentionally muscling in on his territory.

'Pretty much,' shrugged Daisy. 'It's okay though.'

'It's not really,' replied Ryan. 'It's a bit out of order. You had to dance with one of those maniacs too.'

'Don't remind me,' said Daisy with a shudder. 'Anyway, you still haven't told me what happened when you left.'

The two of them had stopped by a gap in the hedgerow that led into an area of woodland. Ryan sagged and offered for her to go first.

'Okay,' he said reluctantly. 'But you may not like it Dizz.'

'What, less than that dance?'

'Possibly.'

'Oh, well you can't not tell me now.'

'Right then.'

Ryan proceeded to tell her how he had battled his way back up the corridor and made it to the ante-room. Then he described all he had seen and done in the great hall, up until the point Billy and Rex had arrived. For once he had no inclination to exaggerate things; they were already bad enough and he was still uncertain as to the full extent of the part he had played in events.

When he reached the end of his tale, Daisy stopped on the narrow trail they were following and turned to face him. They were standing in the middle of a sea of bluebells, with the trunks of the trees rising from their midst like the masts of sinking ships. And yet despite being surrounded by such beauty, Daisy's face had lost its radiant glow, giving the scene a rather haunting mood.

'So, Tristram...' she started, trailing away and leaving it as a question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to.

Ryan was desperate to lie to her and tell her that everything was going to be all right. She was just too sweet and kind to be burdened with bad news. But as her deep, kind eyes implored him, he knew that any falsification would be picked up in an instant.

'I don't know,' he said honestly. 'He looked pretty bad, Dizz. But that was a dream, and I have no idea how that relates to the real world. After all, we've not even been Dreamweaving a week.'

She gave him a sad smile.

'But you saved him,' she said.

Ryan frowned. He hadn't meant for it to sound that way. He wasn't quite sure what he had done.

'Err, I'm not sure. Maybe...'

'Well, hitting those horrible men must have had some effect on the way things turned out. You said yourself; as soon as it happened the room turned back up the right way and Billy and that man arrived.'

Ryan smiled.

'Now you put it that way, I guess you may be right. Do you think me hitting them put them off their Dreamweaving?'

Daisy laughed, and suddenly the whole wood seemed to brighten.

'I think it might have. If someone came after me with a baseball bat, I would probably have a bit of trouble managing my thoughts. I struggle enough as it is.'

'No you wouldn't,' replied Ryan. 'You did a great job closing off that passage. I didn't see Sophie helping us out.'

'Oh. Well, thank you Ryan.'

They had started walking again and, though he could not see her face, Ryan could swear that she was blushing. That was one apiece.

Suddenly the path opened out and they were standing on the edge of a large bowl, with a scattering of trees and patchy vegetation on its slopes. At the bottom was a pool of stagnant water, green with algae and surrounded by a border of thick, squelchy mud; Snake Lake.

'Here we are,' smiled Daisy. 'Is it how you remember it?'

'Oh wow,' said Ryan, running his hands through his thick mop of hair. 'God, it's been so long since I've been here Dizz, I really didn't know what to expect. It's just how it always was. Oh, apart from that shopping trolley over there. How the hell did that get here?'

Already his mind had flicked on a long-unused switch that was recalling a huge archive of happy memories. He began sketching out a number of ways of retrieving the trolley.

'Like I said; hardly anyone comes here, but people occasionally find it,' said Daisy.

'Yeah, but how many happen to have a trolley to hand when they do? The nearest supermarket is miles away. Do you reckon people travel around with a stock of them in the back of a van, just so they can find random places to put them?'

'I really don't know,' Daisy laughed. 'Do you think we can get it out?'

At that moment Ryan's mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. He flicked through the message and gave a sigh of relief.

'Soph's all right,' he said. 'I don't think she wants to go back to the Isle, but apart from that she's okay.'

'That's good,' said Daisy. 'I told you she'd be fine. So, how about this trolley?'

Ryan had already regressed to a wide-eyed, adventurous seven-year-old. He looked at her with a long-lost glint in his eyes.

'Let's do it,' he grinned.

The trolley was stuck nose first in the bog. It was in the really gooey mud, right next to where the water began. Daisy and Ryan made their way down to the edge of the mire and stared at it for a while, contemplating their plan of attack.

'Do you think you can wade out there and attach something to it?' asked Ryan, looking at Daisy's boots.

'Maybe,' she replied thoughtfully. 'It looks pretty squishy though. I'll probably sink without trace.'

'You?' scoffed Ryan. 'There's nothing of you Dizz. You could probably make it across the whole thing without sinking.'

Daisy laughed loudly.

'I'm not Jesus, Ryan. I'll give it a go though. What do you want me to attach?'

Ryan looked around for something useful. Then a thought struck him.

'Hey, is that old rope swing still around?'

'Yes, but it's out of reach.'

Daisy led him a short way round the edge of the bog to where a large tree sat, stretching its hefty boughs out over the mud. Attached to one of them was a piece of old, blue rope with a thick stick tied to the free end. Unfortunately some spoil-sport had managed to get it caught between the main branch and the tree-trunk, well out of reach.

'What idiot's gone and done that?' said Ryan angrily. 'It took me ages to make that rope swing.'

'Do you think you could get up there again?' asked Daisy.

Ryan looked at her and laughed.

'You've got to be kidding, right? I'm a bit bigger than I was back then. And I've got to admit, my tree climbing skills are probably not what they once were.'

Daisy gave a shrug.

'Mine are,' she said simply.

Ryan looked at her.

'What? You want to get up there? In that dress?'

'Sure. I do it all the time.'

'Jeez, I've been missing out,' he chuckled. 'Okay, I'll give you a leg-up.'

Many years before, Daisy had done just the same thing for him. She had hoisted him up high enough to reach the lowest bough, using the trunk for support, and from there it had been a simple matter of climbing from branch to branch until he'd reached the one he wanted.

This time it was Daisy's turn, and though it wasn't as much of a stretch as it had been before, Ryan had to avert his gaze from looking straight up her dress. She was right though; her climbing skills were just as good as they always had been. Once she had hold of the branch she scampered nimbly up onto it, and then swiftly to the next, and the next, until she was within reach of the rope swing.

It only took a little push to free the wedged stick, which swung down in a wide arc, narrowly missing Ryan. He caught it on its return swing.

'Nice one!' he said, smiling up at her.

'Why don't you try it out?' asked Daisy, starting to climb back down.

Ryan gave the rope an experimental pull and briefly examined the stick. It seemed pretty sound. He took several steps back, a childish smile spreading slowly across his face. With the line taut and the stick between his legs, he gave Daisy a wink and then pushed himself into the air.

The transformation was complete; Ryan was back in his early childhood again, whooping and hollering as the air rushed past him and he swung out over the treacherous bog. In the time that had passed since his last ride on the swing he had been to plenty of theme parks, and experienced all manner of intense rides and thrills, but this was different. This was special. A gateway to his past had opened up and he had swung straight through it, back to a time when none of those memories existed. He was having the time of his life again.

As he swung back towards solid ground he saw Daisy's face beaming back at him. He kept his legs outstretched as he passed her and went for another swing, leaning as far back as he could and seeing the world rushing past him upside down. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the trolley flash past.

As he came into land next to Daisy, he looked back out at it and a thought struck him.

'I reckon I can reach that with my feet,' he said, trying to judge the difference between the length of the rope and the distance to the trolley.

Daisy gave him a strange look.

'With your feet?' she repeated.

'Yeah.'

'And do what?'

'Pull it out, of course.'

'With your feet?'

'Yeah, why not?'

'Ryan, it's half full with mud.'

'It's got holes in it. The mud will just drain out.'

'No Ryan, that's a silly idea. I thought you wanted the rope swing for a sensible plan.'

'I did. I was going to untie it and get you to hook it onto the handle.'

'Well, that's a much better idea. Help me back into the tree and I'll get it for you.'

'No, no,' said Ryan dismissively. 'I can do this, trust me.'

'Ryan...'

'Here, hold onto this for me please,' he interrupted, handing her his mobile.

She took it from him and was about to say something, but Ryan was intent on proving his little stunt would work.

He took hold of the stick with both hands and ran forwards, clutching it close to his chest as it went taut. As the ground opened out beneath him, he lowered himself down and swung out, kicking his feet towards the trolley. The sole of his shoe clipped the handle, but he was unable to get any purchase.

Swinging back, he had to tuck his feet right up underneath him to clear the worst of the mud. As he skidded to a halt his trainers dragged along the ground, picking up dirt and dried leaves. He stood up and gave them a quick inspection. The muck had gone above and beyond the soles.

'Bugger,' he said. 'Oh well, no going back now.'

He ran back to Daisy and prepared for another go.

'Ryan, I really don't think this is a good idea,' she said, although she appeared to be enjoying his foolhardy determination.

'I'll get it this time, just you watch,' he smiled.

He did.

For his second attempt he took a slightly different line of attack, and the change in swing allowed him to get one foot under the handle. There was a brief moment of weightlessness, then gravity kicked in and his hands took his full weight, almost causing him to lose his grip. Grimacing, he kicked out and managed to get the heel of his other foot over the top of the handle.

'Go Ryan!' shouted Daisy, egging him on.

His ego suitably inflated, he gave the trolley an experimental tug. It didn't move an inch. Undeterred, he made sure his hands were gripping tightly and gave another, more extended, pull. There came a weird sucking noise from the mud, and the trolley appeared to move slightly.

'It's coming!' he shouted, though it was proving to take a lot more effort to keep hold of the stick than he had anticipated.

'Ryan, your phone's ringing!' shouted Daisy in reply.

'What?' he cried. 'Who is it?'

'I don't know.'

'Look at the screen, Dizz.'

'Oh... it's your mum.'

'Oh for God's sake, what does she want?' he said, still tugging at the trolley.

'I don't know.'

'Well, answer it then!' he shouted in frustration.

'How?'

'The green button, Dizz, the green one.'

'Okay.'

Ryan tried to keep one ear open to the conversation as he wrestled with the trolley. It seemed to be moving, but he would soon have to let it go and swing back to dry land for a rest.

'She says the police have just called round,' cried Daisy. 'They were looking for you.'

Ryan was in the middle of one final pull when that piece of news arrived. But before he had a chance to release the trolley he discovered what had actually been moving, as the stick he was holding on to snapped.

Daisy gave a squeal as he fell flat on his back with a _splat!_ He lay there for a moment, listening to Daisy reassuring his mum that what had just occurred was nothing and that he was fine. Then he tried to stand up.

The mud was remarkably pliant, giving way to any weight he tried to put on it, but then growing in resistance as his limbs sunk deeper. After a few moments of struggling he decided that standing was a bad idea, and resorted to rolling over and crawling on his hands and knees to spread his weight out. Slowly he made his way to the shore.

'You forgot the trolley,' smiled Daisy, helping him to his feet when he arrived.

'Very funny,' he said grumpily, looking at the state of his clothes – the new season's colour was definitely brown. 'What was that about the police?'

'Your mum said they had just called round looking for you. She wants you to call her back right away. She sounded a bit mad.'

'Jeez, what the hell is this? What have I done now?'

He wiped his hands on the only piece of clothing that was still clean and took the phone from Daisy. He dialled his mum, then turned on the speaker so they could both hear her.

It only rang once before being picked up.

'Hello?'

'Hey Mum.'

'RYAN! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?'

'Whoa Mum, easy.'

'Don't 'easy' me, my boy. I had the police round earlier looking for you, and I've just heard from the Roses that they want to speak to Daisy too. What on earth have the two of you been up to?'

Ryan and Daisy looked at one another, both utterly dumbfounded.

'Nothing Mum, I swear,' he said.

'Don't you lie to me Ryan Butler...'

'I'm not lying! I've no idea what's going on.'

'Ryan...'

'Did they say what they wanted to see me about?'

'No, they just said they would check in on you later.'

'Then why are you having a go at me? Why are you automatically assuming I've done something wrong?'

'Because Ryan, it's the police. The police!'

'Yeah, I heard you the first time.'

'Just come home will you. Then we can discuss this face to face.'

'Fine.'

And he hung up. A moment later, he roared at the top of his lungs for a full five seconds, causing Daisy to step away from him in fright.

'Ryan...' she started.

'God, what is the matter with her?' he growled. 'And why do people keep trying to get me into trouble? I'm sick of it!'

'Ryan, maybe it's Tristram.'

'What?'

'Maybe they were bringing bad news.'

'What? So you're saying that the Academy know where we live now, is that it?'

'I'm just saying...'

'Well, I'll tell you what; if those gits have gone and got me grief from my mum there'll be hell to pay. Anyway, why would they call on us during the daytime? All they need to do is to wait until nightfall.'

'Like I said; perhaps there's bad news.'

Ryan sagged.

'Maybe you're right,' he said quietly.

Daisy had looked genuinely frightened by his outburst and he gave her a weak smile.

'Hey,' he said. 'I'm sure it's nothing.'

'There's only one way to find out though, isn't there?' she said forlornly.

'Yup. We've got to go back.'

'But I'm not tired yet. I couldn't go to sleep now.'

'We'll just have to wait until we are then.'

'But Ryan, I'm scared. What if something's happened to him?'

'Hey,' he said again, offering her a muddy arm. 'It'll be all right.'

She let him lead her back up and out of the bowl. At the edge they paused and looked back down.

'And I'm gonna have that trolley some day,' he said with a smile.

Daisy laughed and together, arm in arm, they headed home.

Thanks For Reading!

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