The Sandman and the War of Dreams (14 page)

At least now she believed she’d been dreaming—that the terrors that hunted her were only nightmares. But they seemed so real. As sharp and true
as life. And their fearfulness was just as strong. But something had changed.

In the dream she was now dreaming, she was on an endless and stormy sea. The water was as black as tar and the sky heavy and dim with clouds. She was floating in North’s sleigh, but it was rotting in the water and slowly falling to pieces. The waves, huge and coming to mountaintop-like peaks, weren’t cresting, but rather each one rose and fell at a continuous roll that was dizzying.

Floating past her were all the people and things she knew and loved: North’s horse, Petrov; the giant bear of Santoff Claussen; all her young friends—Petter, Fog, Sascha, and all the Williams—but they were as stiff and lifeless as driftwood. They could not help her, nor she them.

More friends bobbed by: the Spirit of the Forest,
the Warrior Eggs, the owls, the reindeer, then Ombric, North, Bunnymund, Toothiana, and even her beloved Kailash. But not Nightlight. That was her only relief. At least Nightlight had been spared.

Then the dark, murky sky above her flashed and brightened, like an exploding star. She glimpsed a hand, a huge hand. It was visible for only a moment, but she was able to see it distinctly.

Golden colored, it glistened like sand. It was the first bright and hopeful thing she’d seen in all her nightmare journeys. She reached up toward it. It was so close. She lunged and just grazed the tip of one gigantic finger.

Then the hand vanished.

The sky darkened again, and the waves grew even more violent. But now there were dozens of small figures in the water around her. They were quite active,
not frozen like the earlier wooden totems of her friends. These were unfamiliar, and they amused her. There were three mice wearing dark-lensed glasses, a dish and a spoon, a leaping cow. All of them happy whimsies, compliments of a friend and ally who knew just what might be needed in this dark place.

So Katherine wasn’t fearful as a huge whirlpool began to form, drawing her crumbling sleigh into its swirling vortex. She would be sucked down, surely! The inky spray of the tumultuous sea soaked her and made her cold. So cold. It was Pitch! He was under this awful sea, waiting for her.

But through the dread that now flooded her, something gave her courage. Her hand tingled. The tips of her fingers seemed to glow, as if covered in something barely there. She looked closely.
Is it sand?
she wondered. There were just a few grains—three,
four at the most. Then, in a blink, she thought she saw a funny little man who glittered like gold, and she could feel something else . . . Nightlight! Nightlight was near.

As the sea closed around, spiraling her down into its wake, she felt less alone. She knew that somehow, her friends were trying to rescue her. But, oh, the coldness! She could feel that Pitch was so close. She knew that murderous things were afoot.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY

Meanwhile, Back in Santoff Claussen

E
VERYONE IN
S
ANTOFF
C
LAUSSEN
had been a little homesick. Oddly enough they were already home, but half the village was now at the North Pole. So the home half missed the gone half. Petrov, for example, missed his best friend, Bear. They had patrolled the edges of the village together for a very long time. Thankfully, there were others to keep the gallant horse company. Many of the children now rode him on his daily rounds. They had formed their own militia to guard the village. Sascha and Petter were the generals of this young troop. They had enlisted the
other children and many of the remaining forest creatures as their captains and lieutenants. No one had a rank below captain, which was one of the fun parts of inventing your own army. The squirrels, chipmunks, beetles, ants, and butterflies all had new military-like uniforms with
SC
(for “Santoff Claussen”) embroidered on their jackets. They had been sent by North himself and had arrived by the train tunnel that now linked Santoff Claussen to his city.

Every few days an Eggomotive train would arrive from the pole, sometimes to bring gifts, news, or returning visitors. The three Williams had just come back and told everyone tantalizing stories of how North’s city was growing into the most beautiful place they had ever seen. An enchanted forest now surrounded the city, like the one around Santoff Claussen, but the trees were evergreens—they’d never
lose their leaves and all were pointed, like giant cones.

“They are covered with tiny egg-shaped lights, crafted by Bunnymund,” explained the youngest William to the others. The city itself sat atop a mountain of ice and snow and was sculpted from the same materials, at least on the outside. Inside, the palatial towers and pavilions, the floors and walls, were grown from sampled hunks of Big Root itself.

On the night of what was now named “the Great Migration,” half of Big Root had been transported to the North Pole. But in Santoff Claussen this halving was barely noticeable, for the fantastic tree did not split in half; rather, it divided itself into two trees. Every other limb and root had formed over a new trunk. When the new tree flew away, the original Big Root simply shifted its remaining limbs and roots in a way that made it difficult to imagine that any part of it was gone.

The new Big Root at the pole had then grown itself to take the shapes of all the rooms, stairs, and furniture in North’s plans. It was now the only city in history in which every wall, chair, ceiling, and door was alive and able to change upon command.

“If North or Ombric needs a chair, one will come running into place,” explained Tall William.

“And North needs a much bigger chair now,” added William the Almost Youngest. “He’s gotten kinda fat!” They all laughed at the idea.

“The Yetis are great cooks,” said Tall William.

“North loves their chocolate and vanilla Moon cookies,” blurted William the Absolute Youngest. “White on one side, dark on the other.”

“Just like the Moon?” asked Sascha.

“Yep,” replied the youngest William. “And
all
good.”

“And what of Katherine?” asked Petter.

The Williams glanced at each other. Tall William spoke first. “Ombric received a message just before we left. Sandman found her.”

“Is she all right?” asked Sascha.

“We don’t know for sure,” said Not-as-Old William.

“They are bringing her to the pole,” said Tall William.

“What’s that?” asked Fog, scratching his head under his
SC
cap.

“The most magicalist place in the city of North,” said William the Absolute Youngest with awe. “Its giant tower in the center of the city—it can do anything. It can even go to the Moon, they say.”

That pronouncement drew a collective “wow” from all who listened, even the bugs and squirrels.

Above them, they then saw what looked like a slowly moving shooting star arc across the twilight sky. They looked at it curiously. It was bigger than a star, they realized. It was more like a small cloud. A familiar, slightly sleepy feeling came over them all. Then they knew.

“It’s not a star, it’s the Sandyman,” said the youngest William.

“Yeah. And Nightlight,” said Sascha. “They must be traveling with our Katherine!” There was a sudden feeling of hope and excitement among the group.

“Then we must wish them well,” said Fog.

So they repeated the words that make all magic possible. The first magic words they had ever learned. The words they hoped would help Katherine.

“I believe, I believe, I believe.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-O
NE

The Power of the Nightmare Rock

S
ANDY AND
N
IGHTLIGHT WERE
anxious to get Katherine to safety. Mansnoozie was worried that she had perhaps been trapped inside a nightmare for too long. That she might never recover from such a stream of horror. The black slab of Pitch’s Nightmare Rock seemed to be devouring the Dreamsand cloud beneath it; Sandy was using an alarming amount of sand just to keep them flying.

At last they were nearing North’s new city. The luminous northern lights ebbed and flowed around them in giant graceful waves. Sandy’s fingertips still
hurt from his brief attempt to break through the layer of nightmare energy that surrounded Katherine. He paused from spreading Dreamsand to look closely at his aching fingers. The Dreamsand at each tip was scorched with small black bruises that were starting to spread.

He’d never before encountered any nightmare that had had such an effect on his Dreamsand. An odd, sudden urge now compelled him to bring his fingertips to his ear—to listen. And what he heard astounded him. Tiny screaming voices! His Dreamsand was being turned into nightmare sand—each grain of blackening sand now held a nightmare!

As Sandy brought his hand from his ear, staring at the spreading black, thinking of what to do, Nightlight was still watching Katherine. For much of
the journey, her sleeping face had been growing ever more peaceful, but now she looked terrified.

The dream cloud beneath them began to lurch and rock unsteadily. Nightlight glanced down. The bright golden sand was churning. Streaks of black began to appear throughout its billowing shape.

Nightlight turned to Sandy, but the little man was already grabbing at him. He jerked the diamond tip of Nightlight’s staff to his blackening fingers and began to furiously scrape them. Each scrape peeled the nightmare sand from his fingers; within seconds, his hand was free of the spreading darkness.

But the scraped-away sand began to form into an entity—a small Nightmare Man. And all the sand beneath Nightlight and Sandy was darkening as the dream cloud grew more volatile. They could barely stand as it twisted and jerked, as if fighting for its
soul. From both hands, Sandy shot streams of fresh sand into the cloud, but it blackened faster than he could send forth his sand.

They were directly above North’s amazing city now, its dazzling lights shining up around them, but they were in desperate trouble.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
WO

Situational Chocolates

D
OWN BELOW, THE OTHER
Guardians and all the citizens of the new city watched in awe and alarm.

“Just when things seemed to be going so well,” said Ombric, rolling up his sleeves and thinking through his list of fighting spells. He wondered if he was still up to the task.
This is for Katherine’s sake,
he thought, and strength came roaring back.

“Time to do a little multiplication,” said Queen Toothiana, fluttering her wings and clutching her ruby relic.

“Get my sleigh,” North said to his elves.

“I believe this situation calls for a particularly potent chocolate,” said Bunnymund. Chocolate had quite an effect on the Pooka. It could transform him in a variety of ways, all of them extraordinary. His ears were already twitching with anticipation.