The Sandman and the War of Dreams Read online

  Contents

  Chapter One

  The Dreams That Stuff Is Made Of

  Chapter Two

  A Return to Where Things Started

  Chapter Three

  In Which We See Many Terrors in the Shadows

  Chapter Four

  Djinnis and Jests

  Chapter Five

  Grab a Tear, Save a Story

  Chapter Six

  The Sandman Cometh

  Chapter Seven

  A Dream Pause

  Chapter Eight

  The Heart Becomes the Hunted

  Chapter Nine

  A Little Girl Lost and a Titan Found

  Chapter Ten

  The Dream Becomes a Nightmare

  Chapter Eleven

  A Stormy Relationship

  Chapter Twelve

  Stars Cross

  Chapter Thirteen

  Who Does a Star Wish Upon?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hope Becomes a Weapon Most Foul

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Most Bitter Reckoning

  Chapter Sixteen

  Oh, What a Mysterious Morning!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nightlight Dawns

  Chapter Eighteen

  Do Be Afraid of the Dark

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Dream within a Dream . . .

  Chapter Twenty

  Of Dreams and Relics and Powers Unsuspected

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Another Nightmare

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At Last a Kind Wind

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A Dream That Becomes Real

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Something Perhaps Worse

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A Place of Endless Possibilities

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A Few Rich Ticks of the Clock

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Of Nightlight and Moonbeam and the Power of a Good-Night Kiss

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Nightlight Has a Memory and the Dreamsand Does Its Stuff

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A Sea of Nightmares and a Helping Hand

  Chapter Thirty

  Meanwhile, Back in Santoff Claussen

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Power of the Nightmare Rock

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Situational Chocolates

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Guardian Glory and the Peskiness of Gravity

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  And So They Fell

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Growing Up Is an Awfully Big Adventure

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Nightlight At Last Sleeps

  To my Dream Captains:

  George Melies, Jean Cocteau,

  and

  George Auric

  CHAPTER One

  The Dreams That Stuff Is Made Of

  TIME PASSES STRANGELY WHEN you are sleeping. You can close your eyes when it is night, then open them again and see morning. Yet the hours that went by seemed no longer than the drifting journey of a leaf in a soft breeze.

  Strange, wondrous, and terrible adventures are the norm in dreams. Uncharted lands come and go. Dream epics play out. Wars are fought and won. Loved ones are lost or found. Entirely different lives are lived as we sleep. And then we awake, with disappointment or relief, as if nothing at all had happened.

  But sometimes things do happen.

  In the waking world, the Guardians had lost one of their own to a powerful entity known as Mother Nature.

  But an odd little man had been sleeping for more days and nights than any calendar could count. The snoozing fellow was the color of golden sand—indeed, he seemed to be made of the stuff. And his unruly hair twirled and twisted as he slept. He rested in the dune-covered center of a tiny star-shaped island that was nearly impossible for humans to find, for it was not originally from the Earth. The island was not connected to anything; no landmass beneath the ocean anchored it in place. As such, it was the only island on our planet that truly floated atop the water. Because of this, it drifted. In June it might be in the Pacific Ocean, and by July it might be off the coast of Madagascar, its whereabouts known only to the Moon and the stars.

  Which was fitting, for this island had once been a star. It had been saved by the leader of the Guardians, Tsar Lunar, or as we call him, the “Man in the Moon.” But that was ages ago.

  The island, from above

  On this most auspicious night, Tsar Lunar called upon the small and harmless-looking fellow who softly snored among the island’s magic sands.

  But how should one awaken a man from the past? A man who had traveled oceans of time and space. A steadfast fellow who had piloted the fastest shooting star in the heavens. A hero of ten thousand battles against Pitch, the Nightmare King. This smallish warrior had once been the most valiant granter of wishes the cosmos had ever known. How does one wake a man who has not opened his eyes since the great ancient days of the Golden Age?

  As with most things, the answer was simple.

  The Man in the Moon sent a moonbeam messenger with a single whispered request: “I wish that you would help. Your powers are needed.”

  In an instant the little man’s eyes opened. The centuries of sleep fell away. There he stood, tall as he could: Sanderson Mansnoozie. The Man in the Moon then proceeded to relay his full message. Sanderson Mansnoozie listened intently.

  So very much had happened while he had slept.

  Pitch had returned and was threatening the galaxies again. But Sanderson Mansnoozie’s long sleep had been most productive. He was now more powerful than he had ever been: He had power over the world of dreams. In fact, every grain of sand on his island now contained a dream—one dream from each night of his nearly endless sleep, and all of them good dreams, strong enough to fight any nightmare.

  When the Man in the Moon finished, Sanderson Mansnoozie, with a wave of his hands, brought his island to life. Its sands swirled around him, and the island transformed into a cloud that swept him up from the sea and into the sky.

  With moonbeams to guide him, he sailed the golden cloud toward his mission: to aide the Guardians. To save and rescue a girl named Katherine. And to stop Pitch forever.

  This “Sandman” was ready to seek out his ancient enemy and oldest friends. He was ready to face whatever dangers lay ahead.

  And there were many.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Return to Where Things Started

  FOR THE GUARDIANS AND their allies, it had been a hectic and miserable trip from Queen Toothiana’s mountain palace in Punjam Hy Loo. After the horror of seeing their Katherine, and Pitch, abducted by Mother Nature’s cyclone, the Guardians had decided they should return to the village of Santoff Claussen. Santoff Claussen was the place where magic, goodness, and bravery were tended and protected. It was where they had been linked and where their new lives as Guardians had been born. It was a place that felt like home.

  But the Guardians felt lost and broken. They could not sense Katherine. Where she might be. If she was in peril or safe.

  Home. They needed that feeling of “home”; the safety and warmth, the dreamlike comforts that are “home.”

  E. Aster Bunnymund was the last of the giant rabbits of the Pookan Brotherhood, and while he had been to Santoff Claussen only a few times, he had found his first friends in the enchanted village.

  Nicholas St. North had been the greatest thief in all of Russia and had once tried to rob Santoff Claussen of its treasures. But the kindness he had found there had changed his brigand’s heart, and now he was a hero of unparalleled skill and valor.

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p; For Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies, this would be her first real visit. She had heard from her many animal friends that the village was a haven of kindness and respect for all living creatures. She already felt a great kinship with any who came from Santoff Claussen.

  Ombric Shalazar ached to return to the village he had founded. This most ancient and wise of wizards hoped that by going back to Santoff Claussen, the Guardians would heal from their battles with Pitch. Such a cunning and relentless villain was this Nightmare King! Three times now the Guardians had defeated him. And three times he had returned, with deeply devious plans that had tested them beyond what they thought they could ever do. They were weary and heartsick. But Ombric . . . Ombric was close to collapse. His weariness was now equal to his wisdom, and he feared that perhaps he was losing the delicate balance that kept him ready for any fight. Going home must mend me, he thought. He hoped it would steady them all, give them a chance to regroup, gather their strength, and re-sharpen their wits. They would need to if they stood any chance of finding Katherine.

  This lost girl may have been the youngest of their troop, but in many ways she was its oldest soul. She was orphaned, as all the Guardians had been, and like them, she had found a path out of that sorrow. Unlike them, however, her path was not through daring deeds or the study of magic or the use of miraculous powers. She had been gifted with something almost as rare: an open and eager mind. She had the gift of watching and listening, the gift of taking all the hurts and happenings of others’ lives and understanding their purpose.

  Katherine’s heart and mind would take their adventures and reimagine them, sometimes exactly as they had occurred or—most miraculously of all—as new stories. She had become the historian of what had happened and what should have happened. No one could tell a story better than Katherine. No one understood what needed to be as well as she. This was a singular and important power in the ranks of the Guardians.

  But Nightlight was the most eager of them to be back in Santoff Claussen. He was well named, this quicksilver boy of brightness and unending youth. His pureness of heart could cast away the darkest shadows. Katherine was his best, closest, dearest friend. He had first met her in the village, and their friendship had changed him, made him more of what was best inside his joyful, restless soul. With Katherine at his side, he felt he could light up the world. And he quite likely could. But now she was gone.

  And so the remaining Guardians would return, along with all the villagers and children and animals who had joined them on what was intended as a celebratory journey.

  It had been a time so full of hope and promise. Peace was coming. A new Golden Age was at hand.

  But war and disaster had come instead.

  They now boarded Bunnymund’s Eggomotive and made the long trek home. As the wondrous locomotive rose from its tunnel and into the village, they immediately sensed an unfamiliar air of worry.

  All who had stayed behind in the village came rushing out to greet them.

  In front were Petrov, North’s uncannily smart stallion, and Bear, the most magnificent of his species to ever walk the forests of Europe. Bear was as gentle as he was powerful. The robot, Djinni, was beside him. This extraordinary metal being, built by North, was capable of untold amazements. Flanking the three were Bunnymund’s Warrior Eggs of all sizes, standing at attention. Hovering above them was the Spirit of the Forest, her robes shimmering in unseen winds. Behind them were all the creatures of the forest and the villagers, each smartly dressed in the customary Santoff Claussen attire. Even the beetles and worms wore dapper vests and hats.

  And of course Ombric’s owls were there as well. These mysterious birds had the ability to absorb knowledge from out of the air, so they knew everything that had happened during this fateful trip of the Guardians. Within Big Root, the massive hollow tree that was the center of the village, the owls had been able to activate the magical screens that hung in Ombric’s laboratory.

  From the minds of the owls, the screens had projected to everyone in Santoff Claussen the story of what had happened in Punjam Hy Loo. So everyone in the village had seen the meeting of Queen Toothiana and the twisted Monkey King who had allied with Pitch. They had learned of the battle against the monkey army, in which Pitch’s long-lost daughter had returned and taken Pitch and Katherine. They knew everything except the one detail the owls did not know. It was the one detail that would put all their minds at ease: Where was Katherine?

  As the engine of Bunnymund’s Eggomotive stopped and its egg-shaped puffs of smoke cleared, the village and all its citizens came together again. Cautious hellos and welcomes were exchanged. Parents hugged their children. Old William embraced all his younger Williams. But the joy in this reunion was shadowed. The children who had just returned from the journey broke from their parents’ clutches and clustered around Kailash, the Great Himalayan Snow Goose who had been raised by Katherine. The huge bird’s graceful neck hung low. The villagers had hoped beyond hope that the Guardians might have an answer as to Katherine’s whereabouts, but because they did not, the band of heroes was lowest of all. And when the smallest William raced up to Mr. Qwerty, the former glowworm who’d transformed himself into a magic book in a moment of dire need and whose pages were filled with Katherine’s every story—his pages were Katherine’s pages; her stories, his stories—Mr. Qwerty opened himself and showed one blank page after another. His life, without her, was on pause. There were no new stories beyond her first ones—no clue as to where Katherine was or if she was all right.

  CHAPTER THREE

  In Which We See Many Terrors in the Shadows

  KATHERINE WAS WORRIED AS well. She was straining to hear the volatile discussion between her captors, but it was difficult. She had no idea where she was, but she was certain it was unlike any place she’d ever been. And she’d seen many amazing places: the enchanted forest that surrounded Santoff Claussen. The eerie majesty of Pitch’s lair at the Earth’s core. The gilded splendor of Bunnymund’s underground city, where everything—right down to the doorknobs—was egg-shaped. Queen Toothiana’s haunting palace at the highest peak of Punjam Hy Loo.

  She assumed this densely wooded place where she was being held must be part of Mother Nature’s empire. The ground seemed to be made of an ever-changing mix of earth and water. Oddly, it never became muddy; the elements stayed separate. Spirals of water encircled the trees’ roots like miniature moats, and widened and narrowed whenever Katherine moved. Mist and fog spun through the air in delicate patterns. They looked like layer after layer of glistening lace that heaved and rippled in the constant breeze.

  The trees were of every size and sat close together. The high canopy of leaves was so thick that almost no direct sunlight filtered through. The few low-hanging branches curled and swayed with the haunting grace of a dancer’s arms.

  It was these armlike branches that held Katherine tightly at the base of one particularly massive tree. Every time she pulled against them, their grip intensified. If she tried to take even a single step, the moats around the tree would widen and deepen. The water was black and menacing.

  So, for the present, she resigned herself to the fact that she could not break loose, and she instead concentrated on eavesdropping. The mist muffled almost all sound, but she could manage to make out the voices of Pitch and Mother Nature. What she heard fascinated and terrified her.

  “You saved me,” Pitch was saying, his voice a curious mix of pride and vulnerability.

  “No,” Mother Nature replied dismissively. “It was the girl who saved you. The one who you would make your Darkling Princess.”

  Katherine knew they were talking about her. She had taken pity on Pitch and stopped the Guardians from killing him. But there was a hardness in Mother Nature’s voice that made Katherine uneasy.

  “Had you forgotten me?” Mother Nature demanded. “Your own daughter!”

  Katherine was amazed that this magnificent woman of the elements was Pitch’s long-lost child.

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; The breeze began to strengthen. The air grew considerably colder. Katherine could now see her breath.

  “No!” Katherine heard Pitch cry out. “I never for a moment forgot you.”

  “Then why did you not come for me?” Mother Nature asked with a chilling calm.

  “I tried! I tried. . . . For so long, I tried—” Pitch’s voice broke off in anguish.

  Mother Nature’s silence after this pleading admission was telling.

  The air became wintery. The lacy mist froze into sheets of stiffened frost. Katherine realized what was happening. As Mother Nature’s voice grew colder, so did the air around her.

  “You failed me, Father,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “I was lost. I had nothing but my rage at you to feed me. I came to your aid only out of . . . curiosity. To see how a once-great man could become so fallen and low.”

  It began to snow furiously. Katherine was freezing. She could now faintly see Pitch crawling toward her, as if in agony. Mother Nature walked behind him, calmly and regally.

  “You will receive only indifference from me, Father. I will neither hinder nor help you,” she was saying. “I demand only one thing for my neutrality: You cannot make this girl yours. Not ever. Leave her be, or I will destroy you. I am your only daughter, for good or ill.”

  By now Pitch was less than a dozen feet from Katherine. The snow was blinding. He looked up at her. The look on his face changed from deepest mourning to calculating evil. He seemed on the verge of laughing.

  “Yes, my daughter,” he said with a sneer. “I will not touch her.”

  Those were the last words Katherine was to hear for a long, long time.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Djinnis and Jests

  IT HAD BEEN A long day for everyone in Santoff Claussen. Unpacking is always wearying, even when using magic.

  Without the robot djinni, however, it would have been exhausting. The djinni had been particularly useful when North had summoned it to unload the train. The djinni’s strength was almost unlimited, so it had been able to carry many dozens of large bundles and to give every child in the village a piggyback ride at the same time.