The Dream-Quest

An excerpt: It was afternoon, and the sky, as though mourning for the poor children, sank into a heavily dark colour that oozed all over the city. Lamps were alight in every neat and simple little house, looking over weary students’ heads and pouring light upon thick bundles of worksheets. The whole of Educity was throbbing with the anxious heartbeats of parents and pupils. Not a thread of hopeful sunlight penetrated the darkness and apprehension. All the twelve-year-olds were stuffing knowledge frantically into their worn-out brains, struggling for a bright future, wrestling with fate not to fail. It was a dark hour. Somewhere out on the bare roads of Educity, a hooded man crept stealthily past the plain houses. His black cloak hung over his shoulders like a piece of night, shimmering with mystery. Shadow hid his face, and tucked in the folds of black cloth was a small oilskin pouch, closed tight with white string. He stole up to the nearest house and peeped in at the window, which had curtains drawn but was slightly ajar to let in air. There he stood, swallowing an evil chuckle, producing the oilskin pouch. With a swish he whipped open the pouch and held its mouth at the crack in the window. The pouch billowed out of its own accord although there was no wind, as if being filled with something. Slowly the mysterious man pulled its white strings tight, and the pouch appeared slightly fuller. Satisfied, he stepped back from the window and put the oilskin pouch back in his pocket. Hurriedly he left, leaving nought but a shadow hovering over the house he had just visited. From inside the house a wail came sailing out upon a cool evening breeze – the twelve-year-old child within could not bear the pressure anymore. Tears rained down her cheeks, for no matter how hard and long she studied, she could not get anything into her brain. She had spent hours poring over long boring texts, but her memory still felt as empty as a blank sheet of printing paper. She apprehended with a jolt of terror, that she would not pass the Exam. She did not know, but the hooded man had stolen her future. With the soundless swirling of black cloth, the hooded man proceeded across the dark grey roads of Educity. His footprints, glinting bright moonlight silver, faded as soon as they appeared on the gravel and sank into nothingness. A whisper of icy wind followed him, circling round his ankles as faithfully as a dog. His hands were covered in flowing black material, but nonetheless they clutched a shiny object through the cloth. His eyes, hidden in the dark of his hood, surveyed the object intently. The dim light of streetlamps bounced off the glassy surface of the gem-like object, but suddenly one corner of the object gleamed, as brightly as the North Star. The stranger’s steps quickened, in the direction that the gleaming corner pointed. He swept noiselessly up to another house, similar to all the rest of the dwellings, not at all out of the ordinary – but what put it aside from the neighbouring houses was the twelve-year-old child studying in it. Into the folds of cloak went the shiny object, and out slipped the oilskin pouch. This time the man did not stop at the window, because it was shut to keep in the air-conditioning. Instead, he prowled around the house to the back, where he halted to catch his breath. His free hand slithered into his inner cloak pocket, and out came a pair of small round pebbles – or what they seemed to be. The pebbles obediently swooped through the air all by themselves and wriggled themselves under the man’s feet. Four tiny white feathery wings sprouted from the sides of the pebbles, flapping gently and quietly, carrying the man up onto the top of the tiled roof. Once there, the wings shrank back and the pebbles dissolved into dust. The hooded man, still clinging onto the oilskin pouch, opened it once more and directed its mouth at the chimney. It billowed out even more strongly than before, and when its strings were drawn, it bulged more fully. The man put the pouch safely back into his cloak, but just as he was about to descend from the roof, the door of the house opened. Immediately the man wrapped the cloak around himself tightly, and dissolved into the blackness of the sky, as if nothing had happened. A woman came out, dragging her twelve-year-old son by the ear. The boy was sobbing, but his mother scolded him angrily, ‘You haven’t been studying at all! I let you study all by yourself for the entire afternoon and now, when I test you, you don’t remember anything! Don’t you know how important this Educity Exam is?’ ‘Yes,’ whined the boy. ‘It will craft your whole future! If you continue wasting your time sitting at your desk pretending to revise mathematics and not learning anything at all, you will fail! If you fail…’ Here the woman began to cry too, with desperation. She could not imagine her son as a failure. She put him out on the doorstep and shut the door, hoping that if he was shut out of doors as a punishment he would think over what she had said and understand. The trouble was, he already understood, and the person who had ruined his future was crouching right above him, on his very roof, invisible. After a dreary hour, the tear-strained boy was allowed to go back into his room to study, and once the door closed, the black-cloaked man on the roof flicked back into visibility and let out a relieved sigh. He squatted at the edge of the roof, and quietly his cloak billowed out as he leapt. He floated down slowly on the air, gliding with the aid of his cloak. He landed as softly as a cat, and straightening up, he hurriedly left, striding briskly but silently. As he sneaked along the grey roads, he fished out a silver wristwatch from the depths of his inner pocket and gasped at the time it showed. He was late. The hem of his cloak whirled around his ankles in a gust of black wind as he half-flew, half-walked to his destination. The houses shot past him as he strode. Sharply he turned into an alley that was previously not there, but made with magic overnight by his associates. No more of Educity’s houses could be found in this alley, and it was so hushed with deep secret that even the hooded man’s cat-like footsteps could be heard. A group of men clothed just like him loomed up in front. They were crowded around a huge black cauldron, cracked but held together with magic. It was already bubbling with a thick peach-coloured liquid that had a slight tinge of green and pungent mint smell. ‘Why late, eh, Austin?’ grunted one of the men, turning around. His face was also so shadowed that he was unrecognisable, though if Jesse saw him, he would know who he was. ‘Austin is sorry, Justin,’ said Austin, but he was so proud that there was almost no hint of apology to his tone. ‘The second dose of wisdom Austin stole cost him an hour stranded on the victim’s roof, because he could not descend for fear the child saw him.’ Justin made a deep growl from deep inside his throat, but he seemed to forgive Austin, and made a space beside him for Austin to join in the gathering. ‘Ah, Austin,’ said one of the other men, in a much cheerier voice, ‘you’ve fetched the knowledge and cleverness, haven’t you?’ ‘Yes,’ answered Austin, beaming with pride. He put the precious oilskin pouch trustfully into the man’s hand. Five strong fingers closed upon it, and the pouch was emptied of its contents into the potion bubbling in the cauldron. What seemed like shimmering starlight fell slowly into the potion, which glurped it up and turned into a white potion that shone with silver light. Another man stirred the potion with a thin black stick, until all the bubbles sank into creamy froth instead and the surface of the liquid became smoother and milkier. ‘Good,’ chorused all the men...