by D A Rice
“Cal, I’m fine. I just--” he paused, running a hand over his face, “I think you’re right. I need more sleep, and maybe tomorrow I can find someone to talk to about all these dreams. Maybe they can put me on a pill or something.”
Callie snorted on the other line, “I really don’t think drugs will help you, my friend.” He could hear the smile in her voice, then a car door opening on her end. “I think you need sleep, for one; and maybe just someone who can talk you through this better than I can, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it,” Eason sighed, glancing over to his makeshift kitchenette and cocking an eyebrow as his eyes caught something sitting on the counter. He stood. “Hey Cal? Did old man Campbell say anything about a book that he thought was mine?”
Callie paused thoughtfully, “yeah actually, he said to tell you that he found your book, and he was sending it with your mom. She had to drop by anyway for something or another. Why?”
Eason hitched a breath as he walked over to the kitchenette counter. “I’m gonna call you back. Thanks for checking up on me.” Before she could respond, he hit the end call button and slipped the phone into his back pocket. His hand brushed over the book on the counter and he cringed. It was the same book. The apple and thorn design, the dagger heart clasp, and the gold-tinted pages. Before he’d even gotten his takeout, his boss had had his mom pick it up and deliver it here. The only reason he would do that, thought Eason, was if he had no other idea where it’d come from. Eason was the last one who’d touched it, why not assume it was his? He jerked his hand away as if it’d been stung and took a step back. Eason could hear the singing already. He took two more steps back, nervously running his hands through his hair.
No, he thought, he would not be afraid of this. He stepped back up to the counter, determined, and swiped the book off of it, kicking it to the door that lead upstairs into his parents' house. He opened that door, and only feeling marginally bad for abusing a book as old as this one clearly was, kicked it out and into the first step of the stairs beyond. He slammed the door behind him, locking it, then slid down back first. Eason knew he’d probably overreacted, but he was done letting these dreams control him.
He stood and left his living room behind, retreating into his bedroom without looking back. He locked that door too, before laying back on the bed, pulling on his gaming headphones, and starting up the console. It’s time to relax, he told himself, and let the game make my mind numb in a different way.
~
Eason gasped, his eyes flinging open. He was half sitting, half lying on his bed, but his eyes were foggy in his half-asleep state. Slowly, he made out his room and the mist that swirled around his bed. Was he dreaming again? He sat up the rest of the way slowly, without realizing that he did. It was the same feeling he had in his dreams, he rationalized, so he must be dreaming. He moved to stand. It was there, in the back of his head, that soft singing that always crept into his mind, eating away at his self-will.
As always, part of him fought against it, but the rest of him didn’t care enough to bother. In his numb mind, he couldn’t feel the fear his subconscious tried to throw at him. Something thumped behind him as he walked to his room door. Part of him recognized it had to be his headphones, the ones he wore while gaming. Had he fallen asleep at the controller? His mind registered this complaint, then filed it away for later. He glanced around, realizing he was in front of the door leading outside his basement apartment. How had he gotten here so fast? Well, he thought, I am dreaming, dreams are weird that way. What a beautiful song…
Then he was outside, grinning like a fool as the mist parted before him. He could see the forest just ahead. It was dark, as always, and beautiful. Why had he ever been afraid of it? He moved past the gate to his backyard, not even noticing nor caring that the door that led inside was still open. He didn’t notice, either, that the mist came from inside his house, not outside of it. What did it matter to him? He was dreaming after all. Nothing made sense in a dream.
Something pricked at the back of his head, persistent to be heard. Don’t go out there! it said. Something isn’t right. Something isn’t right at all. This dream was different, his mind screamed at him, beating against the numbness that led him forward. The mists crowded behind him, then his mind broke free. He blinked and turned as panic set in. The singing was gone, and so was his house. The forest was all that existed around him now. The mist that had covered his room still lazily swirled at his feet. He shivered. It occurred to him that he’d fallen asleep fully dressed as he took in his disheveled appearance. Eason’s jeans were rumpled from sleep, white t-shirt slick with condescension. Was he still dreaming now? He hoped so.
Eerie music filled the forest, caressing Eason’s mind. He shrank away from it, even as part of him longed to hear more. Involuntarily, he took a step forward. No! he thought with dismay as his body lurched forward another step. No! I know how this dream ends! I need to change it. I refuse to have this dream again. But his feet kept betraying him, lurching him forward. The music intensified around him, and he could feel his eyes lose focus for a moment as the singing ate its way through his mind. Eason shook his head, jarring himself out of the daze threatening to pull him under, but his body still refused to obey him.
He reached out in desperation, his hand clutching a tree branch, forcing his body to jerk to a halt as he stumbled back with the force of his pull. He blinked in surprise, feeling raw pain from the gnarled tree bark he was gripping. Pain? he thought, as warmth began to drip down his hand. His feet tugged him in the opposite direction as he desperately tried to hold on. His hand was being torn apart, and he could feel it. If he could feel pain… His mind tried to piece together what was happening, but he blacked out again, the music taking over. He let go of the tree. When his mind let him take control again, he was walking towards a grove, circled by the forest and covered in the eerie mist.
He could see something in the middle, but he couldn’t make out what it was. Eason glanced around for something else to stop himself from moving forward, but the song was stronger here. He could feel his mind glazing o0ver, even as he tried to fight it. He knew, somehow, that something was about to happen, something he wanted no part of. He also knew, that if things kept going the way they were, he wouldn’t have a choice. He squeezed his eyes shut, it’s just a dream.
The singing stopped and he found himself kneeling to one knee. His eyes opened, and he saw what he had missed before. It was a glass coffin, covered in vines and weeds, green where the rest of the forest was eerily monochrome. Curiosity got the better of him. He’d never seen a coffin in his dreams, so Eason leaned forward, brushing debris aside as he peered into it. It’s only a dream, he told himself again.
Yes… a dream…
He jerked back, glancing around. Where had that voice come from? It sounded familiar, almost like…. the singing. He glanced back down at the coffin, the familiar numbness pulling away from the back of his mind as he stared. There’s a girl in this coffin, he thought as he brushed the glass before him one more time. Eason lifted the cover so he could get a better look at her. It came up smoother than he’d thought it would, especially considering all the vegetation weighing it down. Her body appeared so lifelike, as if she had been posed in there moments before. Porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, red apple lips, she looked like a doll… He stiffened, why did that all sound so familiar?
Save me, my prince. The singing started again. His eyes glazed over as he paused, then shoved the glass casing aside. What the hell am I doing? he thought, even as he found himself leaning over the girl in the glass coffin. She had short black hair, tied in a ribbon, and she looked young, as if in her late teens.
Involuntarily, his hand moved to cup her cheek. What am I doing?! he asked again, panic pinching at his numbness, before the song coaxed him on, making him lean forward more.
Save me. You must save me. I can only wake if you kiss me. I have been sleeping so long.
Eason tried to resist. Something just didn’t
feel right, every bone in his body told him this. He could feel the subdued panic trying to grip him, to make him come to his senses, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave her like this, the numbness eroding his mind wouldn’t let him.
His lips met hers in the gentlest of caresses—
--then he was on the ground, having been brutally thrown from the casket and the porcelain girl within. Eason gasped, his eyes wide, and clear. He couldn’t breathe. Whoever had thrown him aside knocked the wind out of him when he landed. He glanced back to see a small man with a beard. No, two —no three small men around the same height, all with ragged beards. Each dwarf carried axes and swords aplenty and seemed to appear out of nowhere. They gathered around the girl, the glass coffin coming up to their waists where it came to Eason’s thighs. They struggled desperately to get the glass cover over her again, wrestling with two to one side and one on the other.
Eason’s eyes widened as the wind began to blow like a torrent around them, angrily trying to keep the glass coffin open. The girl inside didn’t move, but nature seemed to be doing everything it could to keep the men from succeeding in shutting her back into the box. Vines whipped out at them, tangling up their legs and trying to drag them away. They swung weapons, cutting the vines down, grunting as they heaved against the coffin with little effect. The wind surged again, straining their efforts.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” Someone shouted at him, then he was being lifted by the front of his shirt and shaken. A young woman dragged him away from the coffin and the struggling men around it. Eason scrambled to get his legs underneath him. “She’s waking up!!” the woman, who’d saved him, screamed, her companions doubling their efforts with her strained voice.
“Go, Princess Brielle!! We can handle this. Get him out of here or we’ll all be done fer!” One of the men yelled back, voice gruff and winded as he emerged from the forest next to three others. They quickly scurried over to the three already at the casket, fighting the elements to get it closed. “We will stall her, get yerselves as far away from here as ye can!”
The woman’s grip on Eason’s shirt tightened, her face hardening, before she nodded and turned, jerking Eason in front of her. “Go, boy! Do not let their sacrifice be in vain. Go!” She pointed into the forest and Eason furrowed his eyebrows together. Sensing now was not the time to ask questions, he scrambled in the direction the woman pointed. She followed close behind him, twirling a pair of axes in her tan, callused hands. She hacked away vines and tree limbs and Eason realized the forest itself was trying to keep them where they were.
Panic set in and he began to run, letting her take the lead with her axes. She cleared a path ahead of them. “Do not look back! If you look back, she will take you.”
Eason believed her, forcibly keeping his head down as he ran. He could feel the urge to look back, could hear the song echoing in his head. He shook it violently. “I can hear her,” he said softly, his tone confused. Wasn’t this just a dream? He could feel the haziness that suggested it was. But he could also feel the burn on his palm from the tree he’d gripped, and the wind, piercing in its quality now as it tried to force him back. He stumbled, and she was there, the woman from before. Fierce and beautiful, he couldn’t help but compare her to a lion. She almost had the mane of one, with her tousled brown locks, some of which were braided and twisted like dreadlocks.
She caught him, her hand gripping the back of his neck, her mud-colored gaze fierce, and intense. Her other hand found his injured one and squeezed, hard. Eason pulled his hand away from her, his breath hitched with the pain that cleared his hazy head. She didn’t let go of his neck, even as he jerked away.
“Focus on the pain,” she said quietly, before shoving him back. “It will keep you centered on reality. Now, let’s go. We need to get out of the forest by nightfall.”
Eason shook his hand, wincing. “What happens at nightfall?”
She turned to him, pausing briefly before hurrying forward. He followed her close behind. “The forest becomes her puppet, including anything and everything still inside it. We need to get out of reach of her song.”
The song, he thought, I can still hear it, in the back of my head, haunting me. What will happen if it isn’t just in my head? Eason shivered, pushing down on his wounded hand. Pain shot up his arm and he nodded, satisfied with the distraction. Then, he picked up his pace as he followed the woman ahead of him.
“They called you princess,” he said breathlessly, keeping pace with her as she ran, light on her feet, through the rocky terrain. The forest seemed to be growing lighter and the wind softer the further they got from the girl in the glass coffin. He took this as a good sign.
“I am Princess Brielle,” she said coolly, pulling up next to a black horse, saddled and dancing uncomfortably beside her. “Get on the horse.”
Eason glanced up at it. “Uh-- I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
“I do. Now climb. We are still in the forest and it’s getting dark. Do you remember my warning?”
“Right.” Eason examined the saddle, before he heaved himself up, swinging one of his legs over to the other side. Princess Brielle glanced behind her, then leapt gracefully up behind him, pulling the reins into her hand.
“Hold on tight, boy.”
“Uh, my name is Eason, actually. Eason Grey,” he corrected right before she dug her heels into the horse below them and they took off at a gallop. Panicking, he clung tightly to the horse's mane as he was thrown back into Brielle, a steady force behind him.
“Does Eason mean ignorant fool where you come from?” Her voice was quiet, but forceful. He grimaced, glancing back at her.
“Um-- no. I take it I did something unbearably stupid, though?”
She snorted behind him, urging the horse to go faster. “You’re clearly from foreign lands by your dress and stature, so I’ll be frank with you. That girl in the forest back there? She was the biggest evil this land has ever had to endure. It took my mother a long time to trick her into that sleep.”
Eason closed his eyes, his whole body tensing for the news he knew was coming.
“You, my ignorant fool of a friend, just woke her up.”
Chapter 3
They rode for what felt like hours, neither of them saying anything during that time. The forest seemed to stretch on forever, getting thicker and thicker as they raced through it. Eason was holding on so tightly his fingers numbed. More than once, Eason found himself glancing at the woman behind him. He was terrified that she would abandon him the first chance she got. He got the impression that she wanted to throttle him more than save him because of what he’d done. Even if he didn’t fully understand what that was yet, he knew it was bad. Looking into her eyes now, he knew she could accomplish it, and easily. Eason would have felt impressed if he wasn’t so busy with his fear of what she might do.
The princess paused over a hill a few yards away from the forest as it cleared, and Eason gaped at what he saw. He was not anywhere he recognized. This place was nothing like the terrain he knew. There were miles of grassy plains, and to the east there were mountains, the peaks covered in snow. A breeze brought in the fresh smell of the grass around him, moving with the setting sun.
Eason was so shocked by its beauty, his fingers loosened on the horse's mane and he sat straight up. "We aren't in Kansas anymore," he mumbled to himself. Brielle nudged the horse to start trotting, which forced Eason to grab onto the mane again to avoid tumbling off. He shot a look over his shoulder, but was greeted by a threatening glare. Looking forward again, he gritted his teeth as they moved towards the mountains at a canter. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he wasn’t dreaming anymore.
~
Finally, they stopped to rest inside a grove. It was small, yet beautiful. Tall trees surrounded the area and a little stream coursed through it. It was quiet except for some birds chirping nearby, and lush with greenery. Eason could smell the spice of spring and mildew in the air,
even if it was somehow different than the taste of spring from his own home. Where was he? Eason was so tired, he didn't even care if he was being glared at by a woman who could kick his butt just for existing. He slid off the horse the moment she announced they could rest where they were for the night, his limbs clumsily catching the saddlebags on the way down.
His legs were shaky and felt weird from being in the saddle for so long. Eason forsook any chance of dignity he had left as he shakily stepped forward. He turned in a small circle. "Is there a house nearby or something?" He asked as he tried to see some form of shelter for them to sleep in that wasn’t a living forest. Having nearly escaped the forest that was, Eason wanted a roof over his head, but Brielle just gave him a look. She ignored him at first as she tied up her horse. Giving the animal a pat, the princess dug something out of the saddle packs before giving it to the horse in a flat palm. Eason hadn’t seen any fruit, so he had to assume it was oats of some sort. He waited until she finally turned to him and gestured around the grove. "This is where we will be sleeping," she said, none-too-friendly.
Eason eyed the ground with distaste. He’d gone camping once and he’d hated the bugs and the hard ground. Even with a sleeping bag, he’d loathed the experience. Callie made fun of him for weeks after that, calling him a diva. He wished she was here. She’d be having a blast at his expense. "Where is here, exactly?" he asked, continuing his thought process aloud as Brielle started unloading the saddlebags. She busied herself as she heaved them off her horse’s flanks, ignoring him again as she worked, digging through them as if looking for something. Annoyed, Eason had an impulse to throw a pinecone at her, but decided he rather enjoyed living pain-free for as long as possible.