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"Did you know that most dreams speak to you metaphorically?"
This was the latest in a never ending series of anecdotes about the subconscious that Meg's shadow, named Alice, had taken delight in sharing. "No," she huffed for the fourth time in a row, "I was not aware of that."
"For example, if one were to be following tracks which split in two directions, one would be well advised to follow the set leading to one's right. Hence, being 'on the right track'."
Meg was still a few steps ahead of Alice, but she could just feel the young girl was smiling about her wellspring of knowledge. Meg was about to make another futile attempt to convince her that she was in fact not dreaming, but Alice beat her to the pause in conversation.
"I find it fascinating how the human mind plays mathematical games with itself during its state of rest. Perhaps the mind fears entropy in a manner similar to the way most people fear death. What conclusion might you draw, Miss Megara?"
This question was enough to stop Meg in her spot. "Doll," she said, consciously reminding herself that she was speaking to a child, "This probably is as interesting as you think it is. But there is a hierarchy of concerns, and this topic is at least a few rungs below trying not to die out here."
"A hierarchy of concerns?" Alice responded, clearly honing in on the wrong element. "What an insightful way of looking at it."
Meg rubbed her eyes, thinking several incorrect myths about lemmings.
"Oh, Miss Megara!"
"Just call me Meg.
"Miss Meg, there he is again!"
Meg looked where Alice was pointing. "Who?"
"The man in the tree!"
Meg surveyed the jungle overhead but saw only jungle. "Alice doesn't live here anymore," she muttered.
"Well he was there a moment ago. I wonder if he's meant to be hunting the rabbit."
"What is this fictional rabbit you keep talking about?"
"I saw him in the meadow earlier. He was about my height, perhaps taller with the ears, and he stood upright like a man."
Meg decided to push on through the vegetation while humoring her escortee. "Did he say anything?"
"No he seemed to be running somewhere. It's all quite familiar really. I once followed a rabbit down its hole in a previous dream. Except that one was white and carried a pocket watch."
Meg had lost interest. But for the moment Alice was humming to herself, which gave her a chance to try figuring out what to do. Meg was used to being a pawn, but never one without information. She'd been stuck on this horrifying notion that she dared not say out loud. Hercules had made a deal with Hades for her life. He may have been powerful enough to carry her soul out of the Underworld, but that didn't mean the deal was undone.
She pulled an armful of fronds back like a curtain for Alice to step through. The girl smiled blissfully. Meg was trying not to dislike her, but the combination of her blissful ignorance and that melody that was now boring its way into her own head was proving to be a challenge.
"Hades," she whispered, genuinely asking for him now. She swore she wouldn't make any more deals with him, but at least if he'd show up to gloat then she'd know what the situation was. But he didn't come. And Meg couldn't decide if it was better or worse than if he'd shown up.
Then the ground literally fell out from underneath her feet. As she'd pushed through a patch of thicket, the forest ended with no warning. "Oh gods!" Meg yelled as she caught a branch in time to keep from plummeting down a steep drop.
Alice helped pull her back to the former terrain and took in the scene while Meg regained her breath. It was a wasteland; nothing but jagged red rocks and cracked clay as far as the horizon. And just off the right of where they'd emerged, many yards below, was a stone bridge that snaked to the entrance of a huge fortress some distance away.
The place looked almost conical in silhouette with three levels of spires, the highest one clearly towering over the spot where they were. "I wonder if that's really as tall as it looks," said Alice. She checked to see how Meg was recovering.
"This is why I hate heights," she gasped.
"Shall we, then?"
"Shall we what?" said Meg. "Go back the way we came and try reasoning with the headless man?"
Alice pointed at the ominous structure. "That's clearly the place we're meant to go. It stands out as the first concrete image we've happened upon."
Meg gently placed her hands on Alice's shoulders. "Lilies, when you get pinched you are really going to feel it, but until then trust me. That is not the place you want to go."
"On the contrary, that is precisely the place one wants to go."
Meg steadied her own head. "Okay, devil's advocate. If 'one' were in this precise situation and 'one' happened to know 'one' wasn't dreaming, what would 'one's' most mortality conducive course of action be?"
Alice thought carefully. "Still to visit the place with the spires."
Meg stared at her. For quite a while. "How," she said, "do you figure that?"
"Simply put, if one were in this precise situation, stranded in unfamiliar territory with no memory of how or why, and one dreaming it were no longer a possibility, then it stands to reason that answers must lie elsewhere. Possibly coveted by the owner of those answers, and kept in a location where few would dare to look."
"Okay...a follow up question? Suppose the few who dare to look find the owner instead?"
"Why would the architect of such an intimidating façade include a bridge if not for ease of access?"
Meg sighed. "Doll, you are too smart for your own good."
"On the contrary Miss-"
"Just-" interrupted Meg, "take the compliment, Lilies."
Elsewhere.
High up in the foliage, where the tallest treetops blanketed out most of the sky, there was an eye. A round lens encased in a crystal covering.
Tarzan stared intensely into this eye. Waiting. But the artificial iris did not respond to his presence.
He tapped on it with the tip of his spear, the one he'd made himself; wood, vine and bone. It clinked against the surface, unheard by anyone but the Lord of the Jungle. But the eye refused to stir.
Tarzan grumbled to himself, and struck the crystal with a more calculated force. And waited.
The tiniest red dot appeared in the middle of the eye. Slowly, it began to grow. Awakening.
Tarzan was so deeply focused on this eye, he'd been unaware that he himself was being observed. From behind.
He sensed it only at the last possible moment when he only had the ability to react. A familiar-but-not snarl filled his head as a set of strong claws caught the hilt of his spear, sending the ape-man off the branch. He fell.
The various twigs he was able to reach kept breaking off in his hands. Tarzan was halfway to the ground before he was able to pierce the trunk of a tree with his spear, steering himself to a sturdy enough vine for his weight. Somewhere up above, heavy paws shuffled the leaves, but he couldn't make out where they were.
Tarzan used the vines as he was proficient to relocate out of the dense area and into an open section of the jungle where he could see his surroundings clearer. He landed on a thick branch and controlled his breath, scanning the area around and above him.
For several moments he stood ready in silence, spear in defense. The creature had found him. He could hear the low purr, but couldn't make out which direction it was coming from. Tarzan peered carefully at the vegetation straight above him, anticipating an attack from that direction. He was wrong. It came from below.
The dark paw hooked the handle of his spear and pulled with heavy force. The ape-man refused to let go and vaulted over the head of the large cat. Confused, it released its hold on the branch and rolled backwards, sending them both into the throes of gravity once again.
This time there was a web of vines draped across the pathway down, and both combatants became entangled before they knew which direction they were facing. Tarzan got loose first, and used the remaining terrain to slide his way to the ground. He touched down lightly and rolled several yards away from the landing spot.
A few seconds later the panther's feet hit the same spot with an audible thud. It stared at Tarzan, appraising him, dissecting him. Tarzan held his ground as the beast circled him, growling.
He looked at the panther, then at his spear, and back. Slowly, Tarzan released his left hand from the end of the spear closest to the tip. Bagheera glared at him but didn't move forward. The Lord of the Jungle cautiously set the spear down on the ground with his right hand and backed away from it. Bagheera stopped circling, and waited.
The panther stopped growling once he was convinced the ape-man's spear was out of his reach, but continued to watch his movements. The human spread his fingers to show that they were empty and gestured to himself. "Tar-zan" he said.
"Oh no, not another one," Bagheera snorted.
Continued in Chapter Five.
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