Dormia (43 page)

M
ARCUS
D
OIORIUS
—
BORN IN
3034 (122
A.D.
)
IN THE
R
OMAN CITY OF
C
AESARIA
. H
E AND HIS SEVEN BROTHERS
ARRIVED IN
S
OMNOS IN
3068 (156
A.D.
)
RIDING ON A
PROCESSION OF ELEPHANTS
. H
IS JOURNEY WAS A LONG ONE
.
H
E WANDERED THROUGH THE
U
RAL
M
OUNTAINS FOR
ALMOST SEVEN YEARS BUT, ALONG THE WAY,
HE MADE A SERIES OF VERY CAREFUL MAPS.
T
HOSE MAPS, NOW KNOWN AS THE
D
OIORIUS
M
APS
,
ARE STILL IN USE TO THIS DAY.

Another painting showed a tall, imposing man dressed in a bright red robe. His plaque read:

O
NERO
M
ITIMBU
—
BORN IN THE
W
EST
A
FRICAN KINGDOM
OF
A
TANGA IN
2092 (820
B.C.
). H
E ARRIVED IN
S
OMNOS IN
2177 (735
B.C.
)
AT THE AGE OF
EIGHTY-FIVE, PURSUED BY A PACK OF
SNOW LEOPARDS AND
D
RAGOONYA
.

Yet another painting showed a barefoot woman in a dark green robe with a herd of goats behind her. Her plaque read:

M
OLLY
F
INNEGAN'S DATE OF BIRTH IS UNKNOWN
,
BUT SHE LEFT HER HOMELAND OF
I
RELAND AS A CHILD
AND SPENT THE NEXT SEVERAL DECADES WALKING
TOWARD
S
OMNOS
. S
HE ARRIVED AT THE GATES OF
S
OMNOS
IN
4060 (1148
A.D.
)
BUT, FOR SOME REASON, HER ARRIVAL
WENT UNDETECTED AND SHE SPENT ALMOST THREE YEARS
WAITING IN THE SNOW FOR THE GATES TO OPEN.
E
VENTUALLY, AFTER SHE FINALLY MADE IT INTO
THE CITY
, F
INNEGAN HELPED INVENT THE CURRENT SYSTEM
WHEREBY THE GATES OF THE CITY OPEN AUTOMATICALLY
WHENEVER A
D
ORMIAN BLOOM IS PLACED IN THE
KEYHOIE LOCATED IN THE FALCONS' CAVE.

The group spent several minutes perusing these paintings and then continued onward to Josephus's office, a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with strange-looking books and maps. In the center of the room was a massive wooden desk. Josephus walked over to the desk and sat down on a chair behind it. A stack of blank paper, four quill pens, and an oversize bottle of black ink rested in front of him. The group sat down in a row of high-backed cushioned chairs that faced Josephus. He looked at them eagerly. Alfonso could see his feet dangling like a boy's about a foot above the creaky wooden floor.

"And now," said Josephus in a solemn, formal voice, "please begin with your story. Spare no detail." Josephus took a sheet of paper from the pile in front of him, dipped his quill pen into the ink well, and smiled expectantly.

"Before we begin," said Alfonso, "there's something I wanted to ask."

"By all means, go ahead," replied Josephus with a kindly smile.

"Is there any connection between Morvan's syndrome and the Dormians' ability to do crazy things in their sleep?"

"Morvan's syndrome?" asked Josephus. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"
Quiesco coruscus,
" interjected Hill. "Sleep shaking."

Josephus laughed. "Of course not," he replied. "Sleep shaking was a terrible illness many hundreds of years ago, but Dormia was never affected. The history books are filled with Dormians worrying that somehow they'd get that disease, but we're much too isolated for catching any nasty bugs. Is the outside world still worried about that?"

Alfonso shook his head. "So the Dormian sleeping ability comes only from Dormia," he said.

"That's right," replied Josephus. "You have to be born here. Simple as that. The only exception is someone like you, a Great Sleeper."

"And how is a Great Sleeper chosen?"

Josephus hooted. "You may as well ask how many stars there are in the sky! Some things we just can't answer ... All we know for sure is that a Great Sleeper must come from the outside world, while also having some connection to Dormia. Even a drop of Dormian blood may do the trick. Why we once had a Great Sleeper from Mongolia who was only one-sixteenth Dormian." He cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Alfonso and the others were tired of telling and retelling the story, but soon they were caught up again in the memory of their adventure, beginning as it did many months ago in Minnesota. Josephus wrote furiously, never seeming to tire. The sheets of paper filled up with his elegant writing as the story took them to Fort Krasnik, to Lars's iceberg, across the polar icecap into Barsh-yin-Binder, and after many harrowing days, to the doorstep of Somnos.

Hours passed. Library workers brought in trays of strongly scented herbal tea. After a while, Alfonso noticed a wall hanging that intrigued him. It was an intricately drawn map of Dormia, with the eleven major cities and a number of outposts scattered among the mighty peaks of the High Urals. Josephus saw Alfonso looking at it, and he nodded sadly. "Yes, Dormia was once a mighty kingdom," he remarked. "As I'm sure you know by now, there were once eleven cities of Dormia. We were a loose but patriotic grouping of city-states, but mistrust and suspicion followed Nartam's actions, and Dormia was never the same after the city of Dragoo fell. After a second city, Iopode, was destroyed by Nartam and his gang, the ties that bound the Dormians together were torn, in a tragic event called the Splintering."

Josephus sighed and rummaged on his desk and found a chart that he showed Alfonso. "Here it is," he said. "This shows the fate of the eleven cities. Yes, we were once powerful and respected far beyond this tiny corner of the Urals. And now only Somnos is left."

The Eleven Cities of Dormia Current Date 4920

Dormian history starts with o—the year Jasber was founded.

*
Order of the Wanderers founded 2116

*
Splintering occurs 2430

*
The fault roads are closed 4319

"Why don't you just rebuild the cities?" asked Alfonso.

"Not without a Founding Tree," replied Josephus. He stood up, looked out the window, and gestured broadly out the window at the thin layer of snow that now covered much of the city. "You see what happens when a Founding Tree dies? Winter takes over. When burned, the change is much more rapid: the roots shrivel up, the fields disappear, and the ground freezes. All that is alive and growing dies. Without the Founding Tree, there is no life. In the past, we Dormians have tried to regrow a Founding Tree in the place where one once stood, but it has never worked. As far as we know, the only person who can hatch a seed from the Founding Tree is a Great Sleeper like you. What's more, a Great Sleeper is summoned only when a Founding Tree is at the very end of its natural life. So when a Founding Tree dies prematurely—because someone has burned it—no Great Sleeper is summoned and no replacement is delivered. This is why our cities have perished, one by one, and have never been rebuilt. Once a Founding Tree is burned, the city surrounding it is doomed."

"Why have the Dragoonya been so successful?" Alfonso asked. "Didn't the Dormians fight?"

"Of course!" replied Josephus. He seemed offended. "Dormians are formidable fighters, some say the best in the world. But the Dragoonya can overwhelm anybody with their vast numbers—especially when they have some Dormian ash to rub into their eyes. The ash gives their archers spectacular vision and it also allows their generals to see briefly into the future. Imagine, if you will, a Dragoonya army that knows your key plans at the same time you do! And what's more, over the centuries, they have maintained one crucial advantage..."

"What is it?" asked Alfonso. "What do they have?"

"I'll show you," replied Josephus.

Josephus sprang from his seat, walked to a nearby bookcase, extracted a massive book—thicker than the thickest dictionary—and staggered with it back to his desk. The book was bound in leather and its cover was emblazoned with the following title in big, block letters:
THE DRAGOONYA, A COMPLETE HISTORY.

"This book contains all that we know about the Dragoonya and the destruction of the Dormian cities," explained Josephus. "Although it describes our battles with the Dragoonya in varying fashions, I've noticed that the battles always seem to turn in their favor when a certain person emerges." He looked at Alfonso. "I'm sure you know who I mean."

"Nartam," whispered Hill. "Tell me, are there other Dormians from Dragoo who are still alive and fighting at his side?"

"Very few," replied Josephus sternly. "Over the years Nartam has killed off most of them."

"Why?" asked Alfonso.

"Because he doesn't want to share any of his Dormian ash with them," explained Josephus matter-of-factly. "Of course, Nartam still has a few of his original conspirators from Dragoo at his side—and a few Gahnos as well—but the rest of his men are non-Dormians who work as mercenaries. And I'm afraid these men are incredibly loyal to him because he provides them with loot and he always leads the charge in battle."

Josephus flipped through a few pages of the massive, leather-bound book. The book's binding squeaked and dust rose thickly in the air.

"Here's a famous passage written by the great scribe of Noctos, Maxso Minter," said Josephus. He put his glasses on and began to read:

The army of horsemen came from the north, pouring out of their ice-built pit of damnation, the city of the polar wastes—Dargora. Clad in feathers and yowling like possessed beasts, they fell upon our fair city. Their leader rode at the front, and though he was blind, and wore only a thin black shawl for armor, he was a powerful fighter who smote many Dormians. The hair of this cursed man shone white against the black smoke of our fair city's destruction. His men called him Nartam.

"The descriptions of Nartam are always the same," Josephus continued. "And the few drawings we have of him highlight the same profile—a bit crooked along the spine, shoulders that
hunch and yet ripple with muscles, a long chin, and ears that run flat against the head. Of course, his face is always covered by the cloak, and all we have are a few drawings, done in the heat of battle, but still..." His voice trailed away. A few seconds later, Josephus returned to his subject with renewed passion. "It's
always
the same story: each time the Dragoonya attack, the battle is tightly contested until a man appears, wearing the same black cloak, and at that moment the battle turns against us. When he emerges the Dragoonya become like rabid dogs."

"Can I see the drawings?" Alfonso asked. Josephus nodded and motioned for Alfonso to approach the desk. Josephus turned the heavy book around to face Alfonso, and then joined him on the other side of the desk.

"Here," said Josephus, pointing to a carefully drawn picture of a pitched battle. In the left corner lurked a tall man covered entirely in a black cloak. Only the contours of his face were visible: a long chin, hunched shoulders, and prominent, raised cheekbones.

"This is from the infamous sacking of Noctos," explained Josephus. "It took place six hundred years ago. Maxso Minter made this drawing and wrote the entire account. He was a keen scholar with a tremendous eye for detail. If anyone can be trusted to describe what happened on that fateful day, it would be Minter. Now, let's fast-forward to the destruction of Loptos." Josephus flipped carefully through the large, brittle pages until he came to another drawing. This one was less carefully drawn, and obviously done under great strain. The lines were wavy and weak, and trailed off into blank space.

"An unknown Dormian, probably a simple foot soldier, drew
this," said Josephus in a solemn voice. "It was discovered many months after the destruction of Loptos. From the looks of it, the drawing was the last thing he did before he died."

Alfonso looked carefully at the drawing and stared at the faint lines. The only clear picture was in the middle, of a tall, hunched-over man wearing a cloak. It was exactly like the picture from Ribilinos, except for one incredible detail. The body-covering cloak had slipped in one area and exposed a hand.