Down Among the Dead Men (Forest Kingdom Novels) by Simon R. Green Page A

her in his arms and comfort her, promise to keep her safe from the world. Even as he thought it, the familiar calm features reappeared as Constance regained control of herself. She sniffed once and rubbed her face with her sleeve.
    “I’m sorry,” she said muffledly, “I had a bad dream … a nightmare.”
    “I guessed that,” said MacNeil dryly. “Are you all right now?”
    “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”
    “I’m not,” said MacNeil. “I was having a pretty bad dream of my own, and I can’t say I’m sorry it was interrupted. If you hadn’t woken me up, I’d have probably felt a bit like screaming myself.”
    “You had a nightmare?” said the Dancer, frowning.
    “Yes,” said MacNeil. “So what? Everyone has nightmares.”
    “Including me,” said the Dancer quietly. “What are the odds on three of us having nightmares at the same time?”
    “Four,” said Flint.
    MacNeil looked at her sternly. “You fell asleep on watch?”
    Flint nodded unhappily. “I must have dozed off for a moment.”
    “That’s not like you,” said the Dancer.
    “No,” said MacNeil thoughtfully. “It isn’t.”
    Constance looked at Flint, started to say something, and then changed her mind. “Your dream,” she said finally. “What was it?”
    Flint frowned. “I dreamed about the time I fought a walking dead man. Only in my dream, I lost.”
    “I dreamed about a werewolf I killed a few years back,” said the Dancer. “Only … things were different in the dream.”
    Constance looked at MacNeil. “What about you, Duncan? What was your dream?”
    “What does it matter?” said MacNeil. “It was just a nightmare.”
    “It might be significant. Tell me.”
    No, Constance. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. I can’t tell anyone about the time I almost turned and ran .
    “I dreamed I was back in the long night,” he said finally “Fighting the demons again.”
    Constance frowned. “Demons …”
    “I hardly think that’s significant,” said MacNeil. “I mean, we were talking about them earlier on, weren’t we?”
    “Yes,” said Constance, “we were.” She thought for a moment, and then looked seriously at MacNeil. “My dream was different. You all dreamed of things that happened to you in the past. I dreamed of what happened here in the fort, not long ago.”
    “A kind of Seeing?” said Flint.
    “I don’t know. Maybe.” Constance shuddered suddenly. “I saw the people here go insane and kill each other and themselves.”
    For a while, no one said anything.
    “That’s certainly one explanation,” said MacNeil. “But if that is what happened, where are all the bodies?”
    “They haven’t left the fort,” said Flint. “We’d have seen the tracks.”
    “I don’t know,” said Constance. “But what I dreamed is what happened here.”
    “Are you sure?” said MacNeil.
    “Of course I’m sure! I’m a witch! There’s something in this fort with us. Something powerful. It sent us those nightmares. It’s testing how strong we are, looking for weak points. Only I was stronger than it thought, and I Saw something of the truth.”
    MacNeil chose his words carefully. “I think you’re reading too much into this, Constance. I’ll agree it seems likely these dreams were sent to us, but that’s all they were—dreams. Anything else is just guesswork. We’ve been through every room and corridor in this fort; there’s no one here but us.”
    “Don’t look now,” said the Dancer very quietly, “but that’s no longer true. Someone’s watching us from the door.”
    In the quiet of the night, a lone figure stepped out of the trees at the edge of the Forest, and scurried quickly across the clearing toward the fort. Moonlight filled the clearing as bright as day, and there wasn’t a shadow anywhere for Scarecrow Jack to hide in. He ran on, head down and arms pumping. If the guards had left a lookout on the battlements he was a dead man; they couldn’t avoid seeing him in