She looked up from her prayer and, crossing herself, she stood up. When she turned and saw me her emotions changed in milliseconds. First, bewilderment, and then a bold confidence, as if daring me to hurt her. Her mouth opened as if she were going to say something but nothing came out. It seemed as if time had slowed and we were moving slowly, although somehow I knew that only seconds had passed as we stared across at each other. Finally I stood up and approached her. Her mouth clamped shut.
I held my hands out in a placating gesture, even though I was still holding my backpack, trying to show her that I meant no harm. My mind struggled to make sense of what was going on while I slowly walked toward her. Surely I must be dreaming. Maybe I dreamed the breakfast. I mean, really, how likely was it that Mr. Becker had allowed Ailey and Isolda to leave class? It couldn’t have really happened.
“Qui etes-vous?” she looked at me questioningly. I just stared at her, my mind was moving too slowly to understand what was going on. She looked familiar somehow.
“Qui etes-vous?” she repeated.
Could she be the girl from my dreams? It was hard to be really sure because in some of those dreams she was lying in her mother’s arms, dead. But now… now she was standing in my backyard, very much alive. Even though it didn’t make sense, I couldn’t help but feel happy that she was alive.
“I don’t understand you,” I said slowly hoping that she might speak English.
How did she get here? What is going on? Where is she from?
Am I just dreaming again?
She thought for a bit, then repeated, “Who are you? Are you Bourdoiguise?”
“No, no,” I told her quickly. I didn’t want her to feel in any way that I meant her harm. “I am not here to hurt you. Maybe I can help you.”
Or maybe she could help me. This was the first time in my dream, if that’s what it was, that I had any control over my actions. She relaxed a little bit and then she closed her eyes and began to whisper something. When she opened her eyes she was at peace, but then there was a squeaking noise and I followed her gaze behind me. I could first see Ailey and then Isolda come out from an invisible line and they were looking for me. Ailey stopped suddenly, which caused Isolda to bump into her.
“What the…” Isolda started but then stopped short when she saw me with the girl. For an instant I thought I could see jealousy in her eyes, then they clouded over with ice once again.
“I was wondering the same thing,” Ailey whispered.
All I could do was just stand there, staring at them. Never in my dreams had anything from my real world ever entered my dream world.
All I could say was, “I don’t…”
I wanted to say I don’t know what is going on, but I stood rooted to the ground while the backpack in my hand slid slowly out of my hands and onto the ground.
“What was that? Or rather… who was that? And where did she go?” Ailey asked. I looked around me, but the girl was gone. The field was the same as it always was.
I turned to Ailey. She still expected an answer.
“You mean you saw her, too?” I asked.
“Of course we saw her,” Isolda said.
“Well… I don’t know. I thought maybe she was…” I stopped. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t answer honestly, because I didn’t know who she was. I was definitely not telling them about my dreams.
Trying to stall, I bent over and picked up my backpack. Suddenly, everything went black.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was on my knees again. I squeezed my eyes against the blinding light that filled the field when I picked up my book.
“Who are you? Who are you!”
I opened my eyes again. We were in a barn. A very familiar barn. A man aggressively pointed his pitchfork at me in a protective stance. There was a woman behind him. She was curiously peeking at us but was also obviously afraid. In shock, I recognized the couple in front of us: this was the very same couple from my dreams.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he demanded. Ailey and Isolda stood next to me. Isolda had her hands over her ears and fear kept her frozen in place, her eyes wide.
Ailey slowly stepped toward the couple. Her hands were stretched out with her palms up to show she meant no harm. “Nous veux pas de mal. Nous sommes perdus et cherchent de l'aide. Pouvez-vous nous aider?”
She clasped her hand over her mouth, shocked at what she’d just said.
I had no idea she spoke French.
I looked up at them and tried to get up. He jabbed the pitchfork toward me and took a distrustful step back. They didn’t look as frightened as they did before, although he still stood defensively in front of her.
“We’re lost and need help. Please,” I told them. I clasped my hands over my mouth. Now I was the one speaking French. I knew a little French, but I was speaking with a perfect accent. I realized that they were speaking to me in French, and yet I understood their every word. The three of us just gawked at each other in amazement and shock.
The woman took a step forward. The man grabbed her arm but she gave him an assured looked and he gently let her go and slowly lowered his pitchfork.
“My name is Isabelle,” she said. “This is Jacques.” She gestured at the man. “Can we help you? Are you hurt? You seem to need help.”
After trying to explain our confusion, the couple agreed to take us to their home for now. We followed them out of the barn that was situated on a little hill located on the edge of a small town. The air smelled of a mixture of manure and stale body perspiration. The people also did not seem as if they bathed often, nor did they have running water. The floors to their homes were dirt and the roofs over their heads were thatched straw. As the people bartered in the outdoor market or sang on the corner of the street, I could see that many of the people had rotting or missing teeth.
There was a crazed man in a cage near the center of town; he had a large bone in his hand and was mumbling to himself as he raked the bars of the cage. I shivered as we walked past him.
When we got to their house, the woman brought us inside and asked us to sit at the table while her husband went back outside. There was very little furniture in their home and their clothes were rudimentary. This was either a completely different third world country, or a third world century.
The woman, Isabelle, began puttering around in their version of a kitchen that consisted of a cast iron pot over a fire. Ailey and I sat down across from each other at the crude table, staring uncertainly at each other. Her eyes were boring into mine, trying to get a message across to me. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what she was saying, although it probably had something to do along the lines of, “Where are we? What are we doing here? Who are these people? What happened to your house? Have we traveled back in time? How are we speaking French? And why, why, why are we here?”
Isolda’s iciness had completely thawed and she clung close to me. We hadn’t gotten a chance to talk without an audience but we were all completely freaking out.
Isolda nudged me and nodded toward the corner. Ailey and I saw the dark haired girl from the field sitting in the corner, staring at us. She had a squirrel on her shoulder and was feeding it little bits of cake. There was something about her that was intriguing and beautiful; she had a subtle aura about her that radiated love and purity. She also looked older than just minutes earlier. When she saw me looking at her she smiled shyly. I returned her smile and she walked over to me.
“You came,” she said.
“What?” I asked. She looked directly at me.
“I knew that you would come back,” she was confident.
“You did?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
“I remember you in the field that day. You were my vision. I knew that you would come back.”
I sat there confused, trying to figure out what she meant.
Her mother came to the table. She gave us each a small bowl of what looked like a soup with peas and, even though we weren’t hungry, w
e politely began to eat. “What are your names?” she asked.
“Michael,” I blurted. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason instinct had taken over and I’d told her my middle name.
I nudged Isolda and she followed my lead, “Margaret.”
“And I’m Katherine,” Ailey said.
I’m sure they were just as curious about us as we were about them. Ailey and Isolda were wearing pants, actually we were all wearing jeans, and Isabelle had stared curiously at them.
“This is my daughter, Jehanette, and this is Catherine,” she said, pointing to another girl playing with a doll in the corner. “I have two older boys but they are all away helping my husband right now. Please eat some food, you must be hungry. If you need a place to sleep tonight, you can sleep in the barn.”
“Mom, no, don’t make them sleep in the barn,” Jehanette said.
“Jehanette, that is for your father to decide.”
Jehanette nodded. “Yes mother.” She didn’t look placated though.
My mind raced. I probably understood our situation the most, although, the fact that all three of us were in my dream was completely unreal. I looked at Ailey and Isolda. Their faces were pasty white. Were those signs of shock?
This was lasting a lot longer than most of my dreams and I tried to find a way to wake up. How did this begin? How do I make this stop?
Isolda leaned against me and I took her hand. It was trembling slightly. My heart ached for her. It was very dim inside the house; the only light came from sunlight that filtered through the holes that were in the walls. I squinted as I tried to adjust to the low light and, as I looked at her, I could see that she was now staring at me. My eyes locked with hers, the colors burned turbulently into mine.
She whispered into my ear, “Tristen, what’s going on?” Her whole body trembled now and my heart yearned to comfort her.
“I’m not sure. But we’ll figure this out together. I’m sure we’ll be okay.” I tried to reassure her.
Ailey nodded. “Yes, Tristen, we will figure this out together, won’t we?”
I stared at her. “Yes, we will.” I looked down and studied the nicks in the table.
Shouldn’t be long before I wake up from this incredible dream.
We ate just enough to not be rude and then we sat uncomfortably at the table waiting to see what would happen next. For the twentieth time I pinched myself, trying to wake myself up. I could see a bruise forming on the spot. I recognized my surroundings from my dreams and I probably knew more about them then they realized. Although I couldn’t be sure that what I had seen before was real. Who knew if these people existed in real life, it was only a dream so it didn’t really matter. And THIS WAS ONLY A DREAM, right?
So how do I get out of this dream, and why are Ailey and Isolda in this dream? A sneaking suspicion was creeping into my thoughts, one that I kept ignoring, but no matter what I did, it kept sneaking back in. What if this wasn’t a dream?
❦
Later on that evening, after Isabelle and Jehanette laid some hay and blankets on the ground in the barn, we lay on the floor, pretending to go to sleep. Hay was not as comfortable as I thought it would be and I couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and I jumped.
“Sorry, sorry,” Isolda whispered.
“That’s okay,” I responded.
“Do you know who that girl is? She acted like she knew you.”
At this, Ailey popped up. “Yeah, have you seen her before? I have a feeling you aren’t telling us something. And I’m not afraid to admit that I am really scared right now.” They both looked at me with wide eyes. My heart beat loudly and I could feel the fear too that wrenched my stomach.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. I have a crazy, unbelievable, you-are-going-to-put-me-in-a-mental-hospital idea.”
“Whatever it is, spill it. I’m freaking out over here. Our families are probably looking for us by now.” Isolda said practically in tears.
“Shhhh, or you’ll wake someone up,” Ailey whispered. “You saw how they looked at us. They could decide at any minute that we need to be locked up like that guy in the cage in the town square. And Tristen, you had better tell us right now what’s going on. Crazy idea or not, I think that anything you have to say is not going to seem any more crazy than it already is.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “But let’s not talk about it here because it really smells in here. I can barely stand it.”
Ailey thought a minute. “I saw a little stream near a field and a tree a little ways out, we can talk there.”
“Okay,” Isolda and I agreed together. Ailey got up quietly and started for the door with us at her heels.
When we reached the tree we stared at it for a minute. It was beautiful and majestic and there were a few wreaths of flowers hung on the tree. Nearby was a clear natural spring; it looked clean enough to drink from. Isolda went to it and splashed her face with water and then drank from it.
“Don’t drink that, you don’t know if it’s clean,” whispered Ailey.
“I don’t think there is a chemical factory nearby dumping chemical waste,” replied Isolda sarcastically.
“Yeah, but what about little bugs that can give you diarrhea,” responded Ailey.
Isolda’s face grew white. “I didn’t think about that.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I saw someone drinking from it earlier.”
They both looked at me. I’m not sure if I looked as scared as they did, but fear squeezed my chest so hard that I could barely breathe.
“So, who is the little girl?” Ailey asked.
“Yeah, what’s this crazy idea of yours?” Isolda added.
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
“Okay, let me start from the beginning. It started earlier this year.” And so I told them. I told them about the dreams, of the girl and her parents. About the men and the fires and the pillaging and riding on horses and every detail I could think about. I described the feeling of the dreams being so real that I could feel the pain from them. I told them about the stone priest who haunted me so intensely that he felt real. As I went on and on Isolda and Ailey grew more and more quiet and somber. When I was done I looked up to see Ailey looking off to the sky with a pained and thoughtful look on her face.
Isolda’s breathing became more and more shallow and then she fell to her knees and grabbed the long grass in her hands.
“You mean to tell us that your idea is that we are caught in some weird freaky dream of yours? So maybe that explains the whole ‘we can speak French thing’. And hearing that out loud just makes me realize how utterly impossible that is.” She looked at me with fire in her eyes. Then she reached up and grabbed me, pulling me down next to her. She shook me by the shoulders and shouted, “Wake up Tristen! Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!”
Ailey reached out and wrapped her arms around Isolda. She struggled for a moment before giving in and leaning into Ailey, sobbing. Ailey stroked her hair and whispered into her ear. Eventually Isolda’s sobs grew softer and she grew quiet. Ailey looked at me; I just sat there helpless.
Finally Ailey said, “Okay, I know that this is completely ridiculous. And I don’t know how this is happening, but it is. But one thing my dad has taught me is that things are never as it seems. That and that I should never give up. Watching him day after day just…” and she stopped for a minute, lost in thought. “Well, he has so much courage and he just never gives in. And… and so neither can we. We have to figure this out. And maybe it will just take some time. So we’ll have to act natural. We’ll have to wear their clothes and blend in and just act like we are meant to live in this century and … well obviously they’ll think we’re crazy if we tell them the truth.”
I sat there nodding in agreement with everything she said. Of course, Ailey was right. I could see Isolda nodding into the crook of Ailey’s arms.
“Let’s tell them that we lost our home and ask if it’s okay if we stay wi
th them for a bit until we find our own place. We don’t have to give specifics, just say that we can’t bear to talk about it. In the meantime, Tristen you can ask to help them with their sheep,”
“What?” I protested. “I don’t know how to raise sheep. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“That’s okay. Just herd them out to the meadow or something. I’m sure he’ll be glad to have some help and will show you anything you need to know.” She looked at me with such determination in her eyes that I found I had nothing left to say. “Isolda and I will help around the house and anything else that needs to be done,” she continued, “and in the meantime we’ll try to figure this out and how to get back home.”
I sat quietly and stared at the ground. Ailey was so amazing. She pulled Isolda up to look her in the eyes; Isolda stared back intently. “Isolda, we need to keep it together. We can’t lose it right now, or we’ll never get back. I know you, Isolda. I can feel you. You have an amazing inner strength. You’ve been through things before; I can feel it. Don’t ask me how, I can just tell. But you pulled through, didn’t you?” Isolda’s eyes were wide but she just nodded. “Well, I know you can do it now. We need you to do it now. We need you Isolda, okay? All of you. Can we count on you?” Again, Isolda just nodded, but this time I could see her gathering her inner strength. She had more resolve this time. She amazed me too. I hoped I could follow her example.
We walked toward the barn.
“One more thing, Tristen. You’ll need to persuade Jacques to let us sleep in the house.”
I gritted my teeth determinedly. Definitely.
❦
The next morning, I woke with a start and jumped up, looking around. I could feel hay stuck in my hair and my back hurt from sleeping on the ground. I felt a crushing disappointment and sighed.
I need to speak to Jacques. What are we going to do?
As soon as I could, I explained to him that we’d lost our home and everything that we owned. It felt so foreign on my tongue speaking French, but it came naturally as if I was native to the area. He nodded at my explanation.
The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN) Page 13