The Sleeping Man remembered to count his paces down the smooth tunnel, even though his mind was a storm of memory. Images of Lillian’s hand in his came to his mind without prompting and every memory of her was tainted with the last dream of her panicked look as she reached for him. Her eyes turned to burning coals as she screamed his name and haunted his nightmares.

The walls of the tunnel were completely smooth as if the rock itself had been convinced to vacate the area. With the exception of the flat walkway wide enough for two people, the walls and ceiling formed a perfect circle. As he progressed further into the tunnel, he started to wish for a torch. Once he got far enough away from the light source behind him, he simply closed his eyes, counted his steps, and used his Dreamsight to follow the faint trace of the memory the Lillian mimic had activated. Other than this faint trace of a distant memory, the Dreamscape revealed nothing about this tunnel.

  The Sleeping Man wondered what sort of tools the Compendium would reveal to him so he would be able to stop the Volto Empire. Their war had to be stopped. Their desire to unite the lands under one banner no matter the cost was killing the land, the people, and it was unjust. There was a small part of him that wondered what would happen if the lands were united. What if the Volto were able to pacify the Mountain clans, outmaneuver the Spice Island Coalition, and subdue the city states?

Maintaining the pace and count of his steps, he continued to ponder the subject. His mind went from old problems to more recent encounters. The Cannoi's demand he turn over the Twilight Blade stuck out in his mind because he was not sure why they had assumed he had it. Much of what he thought he knew was slowly being undone by recent events.

Counting was becoming harder and harder to focus on as the thoughts continued to spin in his mind. This is the reason no one in recent memory had journeyed to this place. He even had the advantage of ambiguous directions requiring a thousand measured paces in a place with no landmarks for orientation which would cause ill-informed seekers of the Compendium to lose their way. Being lost in The Desert was nothing other than guaranteed death, assuming the Cannoi didn't expedite the process. The sound of four clicks in quick succession broke into his thoughts from behind. He stood completely still and tried to convince himself he had imagined the noise but his instincts didn't buy the argument from his brain. He drew his sword with a controlled movement to eliminate sound and listened. The sound came again and it reminded him of impatient people drumming their fingers on the table. It was too regular to be random. He had been followed.

    The clicks which had broken his train of thought caused The Sleeping Man to focus more intently on the noise behind him. He could imagine the leathery pads of the Cannoi's hands and feet moving slowly up the tunnel behind him and each sound ending with the light scrape of claws on stone. As chilling as the soft noise of a predator was, the sudden silence was deafening. A small part of his mind demanded flight, but The Sleeping Man knew sudden movement would erase all doubt of his location. Why had the Cannoi behind him not run towards him with their customary howls and threats? The only reason had to be the Cannoi were as blind with their dreamsight as The Sleeping Man was with his. Gathering his energy he closed his eyes to peer behind the veil and confirmed his suspicion, there was a mist blanketing the Dreamscape. If his vision in the Dreamscape was more dim in this tunnel, their vision might be as well. He might not be able to enter to summon all of his energy to perform the Dreamwalk, but the secrets of his people extended far past the Dreamwalk.

He slowed his breathing to match that of one in deep sleep, as if he was preparing to Dreamwalk. Once his heart had slowed enough, he took what remaining energy he had and called to mind an image of himself walking down the tunnel in darkness. Essentially he was imposing a dream onto his own mind. The image was solid, replaying in his mind to the point where he was infinitely walking down a tunnel. A slow stream of energy was fortifying the image. When it was strong enough, he pressed himself against the side of the tunnel. The only sound coming from his body was his breath and heartbeat. His breath was slow enough to be completely silent and his heart had slowed to only beat once a minute. The Sleeping Man could be mistaken for dead physically, but in the Dreamscape anyone that could see him would only see him walking down a tunnel. It would be boring to watch, but if the Cannoi could see the Dreamscape layered with the physical world, he would forever chase the image.

Consciously maintaining this ruse in his mind was not particularly difficult; it was the not thinking about anything else which caused the most problems. He had to think of nothing else other than walking down the tunnel without allowing any of the fears of being eaten erode the image in his mind. It was like telling someone to not think about pink clouds. I am the dreamer, and this is my dream. In his mind he took step after step, over and over. Shouldn't he have passed by me by now? It was a strain to control his thoughts and to remain physically still. The Sleeping Man couldn't worry about anything other than stepping down the tunnel. Finally he heard the creature behind him again, with its strange clicks and hisses. The difference was he was completely still and listening for the Cannoi this time. At first the clicks seemed like a rather inelegant noise, but now he was listening they actually sounded like a symphony of percussive clicks with the complexity of a full orchestra. At first the noise sounded further away, but then another series of clicks immediately chased the preceding with more volume. The third repetition was softer than the first, the fourth was louder than the second. The Sleeping Man could not fathom what Cannoi was doing. I can't think about that. I am the dreamer, and this is my dream. He focused on the image of walking down the tunnel.

The fifth series of clicks was the loudest and as he felt the wall he leaned against vibrate, he also felt his body absorb the sound causing the overlapping clicks to suddenly stop. The Sleeping Man realized what the clicks meant, why the tunnel was so smooth, and just how much of an idiot he was to think he could mentally trick a creature with no eyes in pitch blackness. They can echolocate, the smooth walls help them speak over great distance, and I am an idiot. All the clicks were erased by the scream the Cannoi unleashed onto the stone tube. As The Sleeping Man abandoned his plan and ran down the tunnel, he heard his footfalls echo up and down.

   A second screech informed him the Cannoi no longer needed to echolocate. The Sleeping Man ran down the tunnel in pitch blackness desperately trying to think of some way to turn the tables. He was also attempting to ascertain whether or not he would make it to the prescribed one thousandth step before the Cannoi had closed the distance. He had ninety-nine and a half steps to go, but his pursuer was closing the gap.

“Sleep Wake Man,” the words shot down the tunnel, “I” step, “will,” step, “eat,” step, “your,” step, “BONES!”

   It was Crow Face. He had survived their previous encounter. If this creature had followed him all the way from the desert floor he must be desperate to capture him, so perhaps he could be goaded into a mistake. The Sleeping Man thought it was oddly specific to threaten to eat someone’s bones when surely threat of being eaten was sufficient motivation. Fifty steps were left, and he couldn't hear where the creature was in relation to him so he yelled, “Why bones?”

An inarticulate scream answered. Dammit, he's still too far away. The Sleeping Man realized on step thirty he would not be able to make it. Even if he did make it to the end of the thousand paces, there was no way to know he would have the last part of the riddle answered in time to avoid the Cannoi. He had to slow Crow Face down and there was nothing at his disposal he could use. His own footsteps were louder than the sprinting Cannoi and the only way to know exactly how much of a lead he had was to goad the Cannoi once more. "Wouldn't my bones just get caught in your teeth? Surely other parts of people are more tasty, I've always liked dark meat myself."

Crow Face screamed again, this time closer. Perfect. The Sleeping Man stopped short and flattened himself against the floor with enough force to evacuate the air in his lungs. The desert hunters known as the Cannoi are unparalleled predators, yet no amount of evolved skill taught them to change direction while in the air. As Crow Face passed over The Sleeping Man's head, he finally saw the creature with his Dreamsight. The violent red energy of the Cannoi gave off bright yellow sparks of panic as the realization of his error set in.

Bouncing off of the stone floor, Crow Face's momentum carried him past The Sleeping Man's ability to see him with his Dreamsight. The Sleeping Man stood and held his sword in front of him, trying to still his heartbeat because it would be his luck that the Cannoi would be able to hear it. After such a long journey with no real rest or food, The Sleeping Man was tired, but he dared not show it to this creature.

    The inertia from missing his prey injured the Cannoi, and as he got to his feet, “Give to us the Twi-light Blade. Give it to the Ca’noi.”

   “I have told you I do not have what you seek.” The Sleeping Man advanced slowly with his eyes closed hoping to see some hint of the Cannoi with his Dreamsight. He had to stall him. “Even if it exists, which it doesn’t, the power is too much for any one man.”

   “I am not Wet Man!”

   “No Wet Man, Ca’noi, Bakhtak, Leshi, or Abarimon would be able to understand, let alone use a weapon like that!” He did not know if the Cannoi knew of the other races outside of his desert domain, but the point was clear. Even if the blade was not real, the belief in it was dangerous enough. The Sleeping Man maintained his advance and finally saw a faint outline of murderous red.

           “You are lie, Sleep Wake Man. Mother says.”

   The Sleeping Man definitely caught the mention of Mother, but decided his curiosity could wait. “Am I? Tell me, do you know what the Twilight Blade does?” There was a wave of hideous looking laughter.

“We know. We sing of this." There was a series of clicks from the throat of the Cannoi and The Sleeping Man stopped moving. Crow Face was stalling as well. "Twi’light Blade make Desert.”

"So, this blade would cut through stone and easily as flesh?"

The Cannoi who he had named Crow Face in his mind clicked and yipped in what had to be their language. While The Sleeping Man couldn't translate, he saw a mustard yellow with his Dreamsight shoot from the creature's outline. Clearly he was offended by the question.

   The Sleeping Man considered this. Gambling on the acoustic sense of the Cannoi, he put all his effort in an overhead strike. The blade whistled and the Cannoi jumped backwards to the punctuation of steel striking rock. There was a brief moment of stillness before The Sleeping Man played his cards; he didn’t have energy for a fight. “Tell me. If the Twilight Blade could make the Desert, why can’t it cut this rock?”

   Crow Face hissed at The Sleeping Man, but there was a line of green he could almost see turn into a question mark. A series of clicks came from the Cannoi and The Sleeping Man could feel the vibrations travel along the ground and up the steel to his hand. Then some hissing and clicks as Crow Face tilted his head one way then the other. Reaching some type of conclusion, “You will to show the Twi’light Blade!”

   “I don’t know where it is.” This prompted more clicks and the Cannoi stepped towards The Sleeping Man. He could not afford to fight him in pitch blackness even if his Dreamsight revealed intention. It only worked when overlayed with the physical images he saw.

           “The Sleep Wake Men make Twi’light Blade and keep safe.” The more teeth the Cannoi showed, the more punctuated his syllables became.

     “I-“ The Sleeping Man stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I did not know that.” The energy around Crow Face began to spark with the deep red of violence. If he assumed The Sleeping Man knew about the blade, maybe he could hold out just a little longer to make it to the Compendium. He just hoped there would be a way to reverse his current standoff once there.

“I do know where to find it, but, but only a Dreamwalker can open the door!”

   This stopped Crow Face’s forward movement, “Then op-en the door, Sleep Wake Man.”

   “Yes, well."

"You trick me!"

"No! I mean, no. I'm not trying to trick you, but the Twilight Blade is located inside the Compendium."

"Co-pen-di?"

"Compendium."

The Cannoi hissed at The Sleeping Man. "Lie."

"It's not a lie, you followed me. I was walking in a straight line, yes?"

"You walk but do not see."

The Sleeping Man pulled his sword back to a ready position, just in case. "Right. Well, I was following specific directions. Three legs of a thousand paces each and there was to be a turn towards the wind, water, and fire. I've done the first two."

"We do not hear of this!"

"Well, I'm sure you haven't heard of a lot of things." The Cannoi hissed at The Sleeping Man, the sound within the tunnel making it feel like he was right in front of him. This was not the time to lose his nerve. The Sleeping Man recited in his polyphonic dream tone, "A thousand steps to fire, not one step shown / Reach for the fire, Brave One, but not of your own."

The Cannoi's color in the Dreamscape fluxuated, rippling across his aura as if a stone was dropped onto his being. There was a moment before either of them spoke, it was the Cannoi who broke the silence, "You are to find fire? No fire here."

“We have to wait.”

   “I do not wait!”

   “Then I do get to reach the Compendium and you do not get to know the location of the Twilight Blade.” Crow Face gave a hiss and a click that sounded remarkably like a harrumph and The Sleeping Man thought how strange it was to hear the intention behind nonsensical noise. He was not ready to drop his guard, but he felt the creature’s desire to get this blade might be stronger than his desire to kill him, for now. “Your Mother wants this blade then?”

    Sparks of the disgusting laughter, “No. Not is sim-ple my mother. Only Mother. Mother cries out for Sleep Wake Man. Cries out for Twi-light Blade. I smell. I hear. Sleep Wake Man stamps on ground of Sha Mac Mau Shaam. All ba-bies hear.”

   “Well thankfully you haven’t killed me yet.” His grip tightened on his sword.

   “Not yet. Songs say Night Wake Man makes Twi’light Blade to save the Song Keepers. Make Sha Mac Mau Saam with Sky Fire.”

   “Okay, I know the Sha Mac Mau Sham is The Desert, and you're saying it was made with Sky Fire.” As the words came out of The Sleeping Man’s mouth, he realized what he had said. Sky Fire. Could they mean the Sol? To himself he murmured, “After a thousand paces, I am to reach for the fire.” How would creatures born blind and living in The Desert describe the life giving orb guarding the heavens? The Sleeping Man didn't think it possible that any light would reach down into this pitch darkness.

At first his mind thought he was imagining the light, but soon details were emerging like a whispered suggestion there might be outlines to see. The Sleeping Man began to see the Cannoi, then he could begin to make out the tattoos covering his body and saw what reminded him of a crow on the Cannoi's face. The Sleeping Man looked upwards and as he did, he saw a pattern in the ceiling. It was triangular, knotting in on itself and forming an elaborate latticework of hidden meaning. The center of the symbol had the outline of an eye. The visual stirred something inside him, like a memory but not his memory.

    There was a hissing from below him, The Sleeping Man almost asked, “Can you see?” Instead he chose, “There is a pattern on the ceiling.”

   Crow Face held out his hand and began to move his hand through the pattern of light gingerly at first. Soft clicks and hisses issued from his mouth. While this was happening, The Sleeping Man looked closely at the hands of the Cannoi and felt some of his marital confidence erode. Wide palms supported long fingers which appeared extremely muscular and covered in callous.

    Once the Cannoi was done with his scan, he pointed his face towards The Sleeping Man, “Sang Lon, The Big Light. Is here.”

   “The last step in my instructions is to reach for the fire. But I must confess, I do not entirely know what it means.” The Sleeping Man was again looking at the pattern.

   "Reach is reach. You reach now." The Cannoi spoke with a half-hearted threat, his attention focused on the intricate pattern of light he was sensing on his skin.

   “Inspiring.” He moved to be directly under the symbol of the eye. He started to reach and then stopped, “What’s your name?”

  “Night Wake Man does not care for name.”

   The Sleeping Man knew he needed to build familiarity with the Cannoi so that just maybe he could find a weakness within his adversary or even the Cannoi themselves. “Well, I just thought since there’s no way of knowing what is going to happen and if we're going to die… Alright, I’ll keep calling you Crow Face in my head.” He began to reach again.

   “Conqua,”

   “Conqua. Right.”

   “Does Night Wake Man have name?” The Sleeping Man had stopped moving.

"I am called The Sleeping Man."

"Is name?"

"My name is-" The familiar hole in his memory went back to waking in a stone chamber under the Green Mountain Temple. There was nothing before. "It is name enough. I’ve been looking for this place for a long time.” Resolving himself to whatever would happen next, he reached instinctively towards the pattern in the ceiling of the tunnel. On some distant level, he felt like this was a song he used to remember, each step coming to him in sequence as he completed them. He would not have been able to articulate why his fingers found the grooves in the pattern just as he would not be able to articulate why he felt like he should turn the center of the eye clockwise. Both of these actions did take place and there was a dull click from within the stone.

The floor beneath both The Sleeping Man and Conqua began to rise towards the ceilings as the pattern moved out of their way to allow the circular disk of stone to carry them upwards. As they left the darkness, the light intensified so that when they had cleared the ceiling of the dark tunnel he was as blind from light and he had so recently been blind from darkness. Their upward movement stopped as suddenly as it had begun and ever so gradually, he was able to see the room to which they had been elevated.

The Sleeping Man whispered, "At last."

Next Chapter: The Test