Seven grown men with weapons against a dozen unarmed children and three weak adults.
“Gather together!” Erik hollers to the kids.
“No!” Stranna shouts. “Spread out and drop low in the grass. Make yourself as small as possible!” The sword at her side unsheathes itself as she spins toward the oncoming attack, not watching to see if the kids obey.
But they do. A couple of them still group together, driven more by fear than survival instincts. I know what it’s like to not want to die alone. But she’s right—if they spread out, they’ll be harder to hit.
I pull out my kris dagger. It’s not going to accomplish anything. I can’t even deflect a spear with it. So I channel my focus inward, willing up emotions, trying to convince them to overwhelm me. But I’m strangely collected. Calm. In an eerie way. I’ve accepted that I’ll deteriorate and die within the next couple days, and there’s a freedom in having chosen which side I’m on.
The nightmist doesn’t come. I can’t even sense it. If nightbeasts can’t enter here, then I certainly can’t create one in here. How did I make those cardinals? They were a complete accident, but they were also different, solid.
I don’t have time to find out.
The first tiro spear flies our way. It lands within two feet of a little boy. He stares at it with wide eyes but doesn’t make a peep. There’s no telling if the tiro knew this boy was there or not. But that’s too close.
The kids need to get to safety. I’ve brought them to a graveyard.
More spears fly and stick in the ground. Some children hold their place, while others jump up and run in circles. Nowhere to go. I spin, scanning for something—anything. And then I see the flash of red. Another. First I think they’re arrows, but then I see wings. They’re my cardinals.
And they’re flittering and flying on the other side of the mysterious veil.
I sprint to the border of the Nightmare. The Draftsman in me tells me it’s no use. A dreamscape has its boundaries, and no one can change them except through programming in the Real World. But if there’s anything I’ve learned about this place, it’s that it defies all the rules I originally understood about dreamscapes.
If the cardinals were able to get through, that means there’s a way. Heidi entered Tenebra through this transparent wall. Maybe all the kids did. They must be able to go through it too.
I press a hand against the wall, but it’s as firm as glass. I knock the hilt of the kris dagger against it to see if it shatters. It wavers a bit, now acting like a thick plastic. One of the children hunkers down in the wheat a few yards or so from me. It’s Heidi. I give her a smile, and she relaxes a little bit.
“Come put your hand on this,” I whisper. “Can you push through it?”
She lifts her palm and presses it against the barrier. Nothing changes. It remains firm and impassable. She looks back at me, as if to check that she did it right. I nod.
“Thanks, Heidi.” She manages a smile.
My heart thunders.
The cries and shouts increase. Arrows have joined the spears coming from above. No lightning bolt yet. No one fights back. Stranna and Erik stare limply at the onslaught. It riles me, not because of their inaction, but because I understand their inaction. What can we do?
“Kids!” I holler. “Get over here!”
Surprisingly, they jump up and run my way. Trusting me. Trusting that I have some sort of answer. An arrow strikes a boy in the calf. He screams and tumbles to the ground, but Erik swoops him up. The tirones circle the border of the wheat field now, dropping lower and lower. They’ll dismount any moment.
Luc keeps his distance and watches.
“Everyone, push on this wall at the same time,” I instruct, desperation building in my chest.
Arrows ping off the translucent barrier. Any moment now I expect one in my back or in the back of a child. “Get in front of us adults!”
The children scramble to pile in front of me, Stranna, and Erik. They don’t all fit, but I feel a little better about being a shield.
“Push as hard as you can!”
They all diligently press their palms, shoulders, and bodies against the barriers and push, straining. Stranna exclaims as an arrow skims her ear, leaving a streak of blood. But she stays at the wall. Not questioning me.
She thinks I know something. I don’t correct her. Let her hope.
Tirones drop to the ground from their nightbeast mounts and run for the wheat field. A nightbeast snaps the ankle of one tiro midair and drags him to the ground for a meal.
Those who make it into the field waste no time. They sprint toward us.
“Cain!” Stranna shouts. “Whatever you’re doing, do it!”
Nothing. I’m doing nothing. I feel a sudden burn behind my eyes as the finality of the realization hits me. We’re going to be cut down. All of us. All these children.
All because I brought us here with no escape.
Stranna must read the despair on my face because her own expression turns grim, and she nods. “It’s okay.”
She turns toward the tirones. Beside her, Erik does the same.
The kids keep pushing on the barrier, and I let them. Best to keep them distracted before their deaths. I pound the barrier with my fist to a hollow echo. I slam my kris dagger against it, and the dagger shatters, falling to the earth in pieces of smoke that disappear.
Even my weapon doesn’t work for another purpose in this place.
Here I thought we were coming to a place of safety. Reprieve. But it’s a trap—everything in this Nightmare is.
A tiro nears me and lifts his gladius. Weaponless, I grab Stranna’s magical sword from the air with one hand and throw it up to block the tiro’s blow.
“No, Cain! It’s not for that!” Stranna manages to cry as she wrestles with another tiro since she has no other weapon.
