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Will Dreycott is a superhero. In his dreams…and in yours.
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The Hollow Boys
The Dream Rider Saga Book 1
by Douglas Smith
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
WINNER OF THE 2023 AURORA AWARD FOR BEST YA NOVEL
WINNER OF THE 2023 JURIED IAP AWARD FOR BEST YA NOVEL
“Thrilling YA fantasy” —BookLife (Editor’s Pick)
“A must-read story for YA fantasy fans.” —Blueink Review (Starred
review)
“Inventive, engaging, and boundless fun.” —The Ottawa Review of Books
Vanishing street kids. An ancient evil. The end of the world.
Our only hope? A hero who can’t leave home.
At seventeen, Will Dreycott is a superhero…in his dreams. And in yours.
Eight years ago, Will’s parents, shady dealers in ancient artifacts,
disappeared on a jungle expedition. Will, the sole survivor, returned home with
no memory of what happened, bringing a gift…and a curse.
The gift? Will can walk in our dreams. At night in Dream, Will hunts for
criminals—and his parents. During the day, his Dream Rider comic,
about a superhero no one knows is real, has made Will rich.
The curse? Severe agoraphobia. Will can’t go outside. So he makes his home a
skyscraper with everything he needs in life—everything but the freedom to walk
the streets of his city.
Case, an orphan Will’s age, survives on those streets with her younger brother,
Fader. Survives because she too has a gift. She hears voices warning her of
danger. And Fader? Well, he fades.
When street kids start vanishing, the Dream Rider joins the hunt. Will’s search
becomes personal when Case breaks into his tower to escape her own abduction.
Fader isn’t so lucky.
As Will and Case search for Fader and the missing kids, an unlikely romance
grows between the boy with everything and the girl with nothing except the
freedom Will longs for.
But as they push deeper into the mystery, they confront an ancient power
feeding on these forgotten kids to restore itself. And once restored, no one in
the world will be safe.
To defeat this creature, Will must do the impossible.
Go outside.
Indiana Jones meets Teen Titans in The
Dream Rider Saga, a fast-paced urban fantasy trilogy from “one of Canada’s
most original writers of speculative fiction” (Library Journal).
Praise for The Hollow Boys:
“This arresting series kickoff grips from the start as it
introduces its inventive milieu, its flawed but fantastically powered hero, its
playful worldbuilding, and a host of tantalizing mysteries. … [A] vigorously
imaginative scenario. … Takeaway: Thrilling YA fantasy” —BookLife (Editor’s
Pick)
“An assured, confident novel … A must-read story for YA fantasy fans.” —Blueink
Review (Starred review)
“Inventive, engaging, and boundless fun.” —The Ottawa Review of Books “A
fun supernatural tale with well-developed characters and a touch of
romance.” —Kirkus Reviews
Praise for Douglas Smith:
“The man is Sturgeon good. Zelazny good. I don’t give those up easy.”
—Spider Robinson, Hugo and Nebula Awards winner
“A great storyteller with a gifted and individual voice.” —Charles
de Lint, World Fantasy Award winner
“His stories are a treasure trove of riches that will touch your heart
while making you think.” —Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo and Nebula Awards
winner
**On Sale Until Jan 11!**
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At seventeen, Will Dreycott was a superhero.
In his dreams.
Happily for Will, right now, he was dreaming.
To start his night as the Dream Rider, he “awoke” as usual on the Bed of Awakening in the House of Four Doors. Will knew he wasn’t really waking. He was asleep. But entering Dream always felt as if he had finally woken up. As if his time spent in the “real” world was time spent asleep, waiting to return here.
To return to Dream. To be the Dream Rider.
Brian, his favorite Doogle, waited for him. The creature sat beside the bed, its head on the covers, staring at Will.
Doogles were dog-shaped—sort of. Kind of like a Dalmatian, white with black splotches, or the other way around. But with a snout like an anteater, ears like a koala, and eyes like an owl.
Big nose, big ears, and big eyes. The better to smell, hear, and see you with, little girl. Or old man. Or middle-aged woman. Or whoever or whatever Will set his Doogles to search for in Dream.
Okay, so they weren’t much like dogs at all. But they were his creations, his logical constructs in Dream, and he thought of them as his dogs.
Dogs that searched.
Doogles.
Will stood and looked around. The House changed each night. Tonight, it was a round, domed chamber of white marble with dark wooden doors of varying shapes—rectangular, round, oval, and square. The four doors were carved with writings in Latin. Or Greek. Or something. Languages weren’t his strongest school subject.
He scratched Brian behind his ears. “Evening, Bry. I missed you, buddy.” In reply, Brian curled his long, whip-like tail into a spiral, a Doogle display of happiness.
Will tugged at the costume hugging his slim frame, again regretting the form-fitting spandex. But by now, hundreds of millions of people recognized the Rider—and that recognition gave him power in Dream. Too late to change his appearance.
Besides, the costume looked cool. It was black as the night sky, its surface speckled with blazing red comets with silver tails. Gray clouds drifted over his chest, obscuring then revealing the moon behind them. The moon, which changed phases like the real one, was full and bright tonight.
A black cloak, its hood currently thrown back, completed the look. A jeweled clasp in the shape of a twelve-pointed crystal star fastened the cloak at his neck.
Yeah. Cool.
He considered the four doors the House presented tonight. Which to choose?
“Nyx!” he called.
A cloud of gray mist the size of a beach ball formed before him. Inside the cloud, a woman’s face appeared—blue skin, violet eyes, and long, purple hair floating around her head. She was striking, but too sharp-featured to call beautiful.
Seeing Will, Nyx rolled her eyes. “Really? You again?”
“Uh, since you’re my subconscious, who did you expect?”
She pursed dark blue lips. “Someone better looking? I mean, a girl can dream, can’t she?”
“You are dreaming.”
“Have you ever wondered why your subconscious appears to you as female?”
“I’m in touch with my feminine side. Just give me the data file I prepared on the missing little girl, please.”
“Lisa Carter? Well, at least you bothered me for a good reason. Here.”
He held out his hand. A crystal sphere the size of a baseball appeared with a “pop,” dropping into his palm. Inside the sphere, words, numbers, and images scrolled and tumbled, appearing and disappearing.
“May I go now, oh Great Master?”
“Please. And lose the sarcasm,” he said. Nyx made a rude sound and disappeared.
He offered the data ball to Brian. “Here you go, boy. It’s everything I know about Lisa.”
The Doogle bent his snout up to sniff at the sphere. A long black tongue shot out, wrapping around the ball and sucking it into his mouth.
Brian swallowed the ball. Sparks of light danced in his black eyes. He began a circuit of the House. After sniffing at each door, he returned to the oval one, cocking his round ears forward. His tail sprang straight up, then bent into an arrow shape pointed at that door.
Will walked up to him. “You sure?”
Brian’s tail whipped out, smacking Will on the leg before forming the arrow again.
“Okay, okay. Don’t get grouchy.” He patted Brian’s head. “We have to be sure, pal. Tonight may be our only chance to find her before…” He didn’t finish. Before it was too late. Before Lisa Carter was dead.
He pulled up the hood of his costume. Now anyone meeting him in Dream would see only blackness where his face should be. A blackness no light could penetrate.
He grabbed his skateboard from beside the bed. Across its black surface, constellations spun behind a thin veil of cloud. He touched the door. It swung open, and he stepped into Dream, Brian at his heels.
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The Crystal Key
The Dream Rider Saga Book 2
Sequel to the AURORA AWARD WINNER and the Juried IAP
AWARD WINNER, The Hollow Boys
“Give me the Crystal Key!”
Will Dreycott is the Dream Rider, the agoraphobic teenage superhero who can
walk in our dreams but never in the streets of his city. Case is his
girlfriend, a survivor of those streets who hears voices that warn her of
danger. Fader is her brother, who is very good at disappearing. Together, they
defeated a body swapper and a witch to save the world (The Hollow Boys).
Now, Case battles guilt over living sheltered in Will’s tower home while her
street friends still struggle. Blaming his affliction for Case’s sadness, Will
searches for a way to live a normal life with the girl he loves—a way to go
outside.
But his efforts draw the attention of dark forces. Sinister figures hunt Will
in Dream. Intruders scour the vast warehouse of antiquities
“acquired” by Will’s missing parents. And a masked swordswoman
attacks Will, demanding “the Crystal Key” before disappearing into
thin air.
Are they all searching for the same thing? Something from Will’s parents’ shady
past? For the swordswoman leaves behind a flowery scent, Will’s only memory
from the lost expedition eight years ago that gave him powers in Dream but cost
him his parents and his freedom.
A trail of dark secrets leads Will, Case, and Fader to a mysterious world.
Trapped between warring cults willing to kill for the Crystal Key, the three
friends must master strange new powers that grow stronger and wilder the closer
they draw to the truth.
This time it’s not just the fate of the world at stake…but the multiverse.
~ ~ ~
Indiana Jones meets Teen Titans in The Dream Rider Saga, a
fast-paced urban fantasy trilogy from “one of Canada’s most original
writers of speculative fiction” (Library Journal).
Praise for The Crystal Key:
“The richly inventive Dream Rider adventure
continues in this second appealing entry…with an exciting plot… always
enlivened by the Smith hallmarks of crack dialogue, fun sleuthing and
puzzle-solving, a strong throughline of emotion, a swift pace…and a principled
refusal to settle for the familiar. Takeaway: This thrilling superpowered urban
fantasy series continues to grip.” (New readers should start with book
one.) —BookLife (Editor’s Pick)
“The engrossing second installment of Douglas Smith’s
Dream Rider Saga trilogy. … Smith continues to demonstrate an ability to
expertly weave multiple complex fantasy elements into a cohesive whole. … This
fast-paced story delivers in a big way—and Smith has all his ducks lined up for
an explosive conclusion [to the series] that readers won’t want to miss.”
—Blueink Review (★ Starred review)
Praise for Douglas Smith:
“The man is Sturgeon good. Zelazny good. I don’t give those up
easy.” —Spider Robinson, Hugo and Nebula Awards winner
“A great storyteller with a gifted and individual voice.” —Charles
de Lint, World Fantasy Award winner
“His stories are a treasure trove of riches that will touch your heart
while making you think.” —Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo and Nebula Awards
winner
“Stories you can’t forget, even years later.” —Julie
Czerneda, multi-award-winning author and editor
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Lawrence Kinland was afraid. Ridiculous, he told himself. He had no reason for fear. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
Even if he had no idea where he was. Or how he came to be here. Or why he wanted to be here.
He sat alone at a round white-clothed table in the largest banquet hall he’d ever seen. And the strangest.
The room was a huge cavern, carved from a shining black stone, running at least fifty paces by a hundred and rising to a high vaulted ceiling. At scores of tables throughout, men in tuxedos and women in evening gowns talked and laughed, ate and drank. All wore animal-headed masks.
Servers, male and female, dressed only in loin cloths and leopard masks, wove between the tables. Each balanced a tray laden with a steaming roast of an unknown meat on their heads and carried a wine flask in one hand. On the cavern walls, torches burned with scarlet flames, washing the room in a bloody light.
Why was this scene so familiar? Had he been here before? If so, he couldn’t remember. Just as he couldn’t remember how he’d arrived here tonight.
Tonight? Was it night?
An oval dance floor of polished hardwood filled the middle of the cavern, large enough for a hundred couples, but currently empty. Circling that space, every twenty paces or so, flames leaped from bronze pots squatting waist-high on clawed feet, their smoke mixing with the torches and the smell of cooked meat.
Kinland’s table sat at the end of the room on the edge of the dining area. Beside him, the dance floor ended at a semicircular dais a meter high and ten across, sculpted from the black stone. The dais jutted from the cavern wall, tall red curtains hiding whatever lay behind. Two men dressed as Victorian footmen flanked the curtains, each holding draw ropes. They wore bear-head masks and sword scabbards.
Concentric circles lay carved into the platform, with spokes radiating outwards from the innermost circle. On the floor below where each spoke ended, a golden goblet rested, as if waiting to be filled.
Masked guests occupied every seat at every table in the room. Except at his. He sat alone, unmasked. The other diners paid him no notice, yet his isolation and proximity to the dais felt both threatening and ominous. He felt exposed, naked, unwanted.
At the opposite end of the cavern, a broad red-carpeted staircase led up from the dance floor to a tapestry-draped landing. A movement on the staircase caught his eye. A man wearing the formal attire of a Victorian gentleman and a boar’s head mask descended the stairs. Walking the length of the room, the man seated himself across from Kinland and removed the mask. Long white hair. Blue eyes, bright and cold. A hooked nose under snowy eyebrows.
Another jolt of surprise shook Kinland. They’d met before. Here. In this place. His memories rushed back.
The man’s name was…Beroald. He was a powerful man. A man who had offered to share that power with him—if Kinland performed a certain task.
Cold sweat trickled down his back. He remembered more now. Remembered the agreement he had made, the task he had promised to do.
Remembered, too, that he had failed in that task.
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The Lost Expedition
The Dream Rider Saga Book 3
The Thrilling Conclusion to the Multi-Award-Winning
Trilogy
Will is the Dream Rider, the superhero who walks in our dreams but never in the
streets of his own city. Case is his girlfriend, a survivor of those streets
who hears voices warning her of danger. Fader, her brother, is very good
at disappearing.
In The Hollow Boys, they defeated a body swapper and a witch to
save the world. In The Crystal Key, they battled warring cults to
protect an ancient artifact tied to Will’s affliction.
The Chakana. The Crystal Key. But the key to what? To finding answers, they
hope, to the questions that rule their lives.
What caused their strange powers? And Will’s crippling agoraphobia? Can he be
cured? Why did their parents travel to the jungles of Peru eight years ago? Are
they still alive?
Behind every question is the Chakana. What is the mysterious relic? Why will
people kill to possess it? What hold does it have on Will?
As creatures from Inca myths haunt the three friends, another attack on the
Chakana threatens Will’s life. To save him and solve the mystery of the lost
expedition, only one choice remains.
Return to Peru. With the Chakana.
There, they find friends and foes, both old and new. And behind it all, an
unseen enemy moving them like pieces on a chessboard.
To win this deadly game, Will, Case, and Fader must master new powers to defeat
the most dangerous adversary they’ve ever faced—a god.
At stake this time? Every life, every world, every universe. Everything.
Indiana Jones meets Teen Titans in The
Dream Rider Saga, a fast-paced urban fantasy trilogy from “one of Canada’s
most original writers of speculative fiction” (Library Journal).
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When her plane landed on the Isle of Man, or Mann as the locals called it, the red-haired woman rose from her seat in the otherwise empty first-class cabin. Empty, because she had arranged it so.
A male flight attendant hurried up to her. She lifted her long tresses to allow him to fasten her hunter-green cloak around her neck. She wore tight black slacks and green low-heeled pumps. A white buttoned shirt with French cuffs completed her look, with enough buttons undone to expose impressive cleavage. Better than a spell for most men, she always said.
At the baggage claim, she stabbed a manicured finger on her left hand at the first person she saw, an overweight, balding man in a plaid suit. A bird-shaped shimmer passed in the air between them, then vanished.
She pointed to her suitcase on the carousel. “Get that. And follow me.”
The man opened his mouth as if to protest, then stiffened. Retrieving her bag, he scurried in her wake as she strode through the crowded terminal of the small airport, her cloak and hair billowing behind her.
At the taxi stand outside, she ignored the line of waiting passengers and got into the first car. The driver glared back at her. “Lady, there’s a queue. You—” His words died as he stared at her face, wide-eyed. Stared, she knew, at the golden runes that now lay there.
She felt them flowing across her face and down her left arm, arranging themselves into the script she desired. She flicked her left hand at him. He stiffened and stopped talking.
“Vel Gaelg ayd?” she asked.
He blinked at her.
She sighed. “You don’t speak Manx?”
“Few do anymore, Mistress.”
“Augh. Put my bag in the trunk.”
Getting out, he took her suitcase from the man in the plaid suit, who gazed around as if lost, then wandered back toward the arrival doors. The driver got into the cab. “Where to, Mistress?”
“Cashtal Rusien.”
He blinked again.
“Castle Rushen, you idiot.”
“Ah, Castletown. Yes, Mistress.”
She settled back as he pulled into traffic, letting the scenery scroll past her tired eyes. So much had changed, but one thing matched her fading memories. The grass still glowed in the summer sun, a blazing lime green that almost hurt the eyes. “There’s no green like that in the world,” she whispered.
“Are you from here, Mistress?”
“Many years ago,” she said, lost in the past. Catching herself, she scowled at him. “Shut up and drive.”
In Castletown, the harbor was familiar, although a sweeping curve of cement had replaced the old stone jetty, and the small lighthouse at its tip was new and freshly painted red and white. The turns in the roads matched her memories, but the low stone houses of old were now three-storied brick buildings, steep-roofed and shoulder-to-shoulder along each narrow street. She shivered at how little she recognized.
Until the driver turned a corner, and the castle rose before her, looming above the modern structures of the small town.
The gray stone of its thick walls and squat towers was streaked with white, randomly from bird droppings, deliberately from new mortar. A carpet of green moss covered the slanting stones topping the sea-facing walls. She smiled. Castle Rushen stood as it had for centuries, a physical memory of a past none here had lived.
Except her.
“By the Goddess,” she said. “It still looks the same.”
“Best preserved medieval castle in Europe, they say,” the driver said, pride in his voice.
It better be. Or at least one particular room.
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Douglas Smith is a five-time award-winning author described by Library
Journal as “one of Canada’s most original writers of speculative fiction.”
His latest work is the multi-award-winning YA urban fantasy trilogy, The
Dream Rider Saga. Other books include the urban fantasy novel, The Wolf
at the End of the World; the collections, Chimerascope and Impossibilia;
and the writer’s guide Playing the Short Game.
His short fiction has appeared in the top
markets in the field, including The Magazine of Fantasy & Science
Fiction, Amazing Stories, InterZone, Weird Tales, and
many others.
He is a 4-time winner of Canada’s Aurora Award as well as the juried IAP Award.
He’s been a finalist for the Astounding Award, CBC’s Bookies Award, Canada’s
juried Sunburst Award, the juried Alberta Magazine Award for Fiction, and
France’s juried Prix Masterton and Prix Bob Morane.
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