Perchance to Dream

by Lyssa Chiavari

  “I’m here,” a voice whispered gently in my ear, and I nearly screamed again.

  I looked around, but there was nothing. “Who was that? Where are you?”

  “I told you. I’m here.”

  The rumbling grew louder. I was certain it was going to rip the air around me into shreds. Then the clouds parted, revealing a creature the likes of which I had never seen before—a massive winged thing, like the dragons of legend. One of the monsters of Orbe. It had to be. I collapsed in terror as the creature descended before me.

  The voice in my ear was back, a soft, reassuring sound. It was a girl’s voice. “Don’t be afraid,” she said.

  The beast opened its jaws, and I was blinded by radiant light.

  ❦

  “Miranda? Miranda, wake up!”

  There was a hand on my shoulder, shaking me roughly. I could still hear the wind, but it was muffled now. I blinked a few times as the light faded back into darkness, and numbly realized that I was lying on my own pallet, across the room from my parents’ in our small home. My father was saying my name over and over. I tried to answer him, but my jaw was clenched shut, and I couldn’t make any noise other than an amorphous grunt. My body shuddered irregularly; they were just small twitches now, but my muscles ached with the memory of more violent spasming. Suddenly, I understood what was happening. I must have had another fit.

  But that didn’t explain that strange dream I’d just had. If it had been a dream.

  “Hold on, Spero, I’m going to light a candle,” my mother’s voice interjected.

  “But the Watch—”

  “Just for a moment,” she said firmly. “The windows are blackened. With all the lightning out there, they shouldn’t notice anything as dim as a candle.”

  There was a scraping sound as she struck the match, then a small orange prick of light fizzled into life. My mother lit the wick of a small candle and came closer, peering at me in the dimness. She must have seen that my eyes were back in focus, because relief melted over her face. “Miranda, can you hear us?”

  With effort, I managed to nod my head. My father exhaled. “Good, she’s coming out of it.”

  The two of them ran their hands over my stiff arms, my mother murmuring, “Just focus on relaxing, Miranda. Relax…”

  I closed my eyes, urging my fingers to stretch; then my hands, my arms, up through my shoulders. I repeated the process with my toes, and, at last, I felt the tightness in my body begin to loosen. There was a final shudder, and then I lay still.

  I swallowed and said, “I think I’m all right now.”

  “What a relief,” my mother sighed. “That was the worst one I’ve seen. You stopped responding to us. You were just lying there thrashing.”

  “I saw something,” I replied, my voice cracking. My throat felt hoarse and dry, as though the screams from my dream had been real. I blanched as I realized I might have screamed in reality, and that would bring the Watch down on us for sure. “I didn’t call out or anything, did I?”

  “What? No, you didn’t make a sound. You just thrashed around like your skin was on fire,” said my mother. She seemed shaken, but I breathed out in relief.

  My father broke in, “What were you saying about seeing something? Like a dream?” His voice had an edge to it, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  “Yes, it was like a dream. It was after nightfall, and there was a storm. I was outside. And I saw… a dragon or something. I thought it might be one of the monsters of Orbe.”

  There was a long pause. My mother watched my father fretfully. My father stared down into nothingness, a frown drawing heavy lines around the sides of his mouth. At last he nodded and patted my hand. “It was just a nightmare.”

  “Spero, what should we do?” my mother asked at length. “She’s never lost consciousness during a fit before. Maybe we should bring her to the Healers…”

  “No!” my father and I cried in unison. There was a moment’s silence as we froze, glancing around as if for any tangible sign as to whether we were being too loud, whether the neighbors had heard and reported us. But of course there was nothing. If the Watch were to descend on us, we would have no warning.

  “I’m fine, honestly,” I said, struggling to keep my tone as level as possible. “I was half asleep when the fit came on as it was. I’m sure it was nothing.”

  My mother seemed unconvinced, but eventually she put the candle out and she and my father returned to their pallet.

  I’m not sure how long we lay awake in the dark, surrounded by uncomfortable silence. I tried to push the dream out of my mind, ordering my body to relax. It seemed I would never fall back asleep, but the next thing I knew, I was waking from a doze to the sound of whispers from my parents’ side of the room.

  “Nai, you know we can’t bring her to the Healers. These fits aren’t on the approved list of treatable ailments. If we alert the Brotherhood to her condition, they’ll just send the Watch for her.”

  “I know that. I wasn’t thinking the Healers so much as… one of your former colleagues.”

  Silence followed, so abrupt that I almost rolled over to see what had happened, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. With effort, I forced myself to remain absolutely still, my breathing as shallow and even as I could manage.

  “No. That life is behind me now. I forswore the art and did my time. Twelve damned years of it. I can’t go back now, the Watch—”

  “Yes, but did you hear what she said? She ‘saw’ something.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. She probably just lost consciousness and had some sort of lucid dream.”

  My mother was persistent. “But, Spero—”

  “It isn’t possible. She’s been inoculated. Besides, these fits are like nothing I’ve seen before. None with my… talent”—his tone sounded weary and regretful—“ever experienced anything like this. It must be something else.”

  They were quiet for so long that I began to wonder if they’d fallen back asleep. Then, at last, my mother whispered, “I just don’t want anything to happen to Miranda. If these fits keep getting worse—”

  “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.” My mother made a sound of protest, but my father cut her off. “It’s all we can do, Nai! I won’t risk her life or yours by doing something rash. Our family is already at greater risk because of my past. It’s simply too dangerous.”

  My mother didn’t respond. I longed to see what her face was saying, but I still feared betraying that I’d overheard a conversation that didn’t belong to me. Instead I stared at the featureless wall in front of me as worry turned my stomach sour. I hadn’t understood anything they’d just said, but it had frightened me nonetheless. I’d thought that my fits were just some sort of freakish disorder, that they’d only come over me by a one-in-a-million chance, but now I was no longer so sure. My parents were keeping something enormous from me, and the thought made me both angry and terrified.

  Trust was hard to come by on Gale, with the Watch looming over us at all times, demanding unwavering conformity. But I’d always believed I could trust my own family—it was just outsiders I needed to fear. I could see now that had been a childish mistake.

  I felt as though I were back out in the storm from my vision: cold, afraid, and utterly, utterly alone.

  ❦

  The storm had subsided by the morning, but the wind was high as always as I walked to the education center. It whipped around my ankles and bit at my ears. Most of the dark clouds had blown away overnight, leaving behind an abnormally blue sky—and an unsettlingly clear view of Orbe. It hung suspended over the towering Citadel of the Brothers, larger and brighter than the sun. Inescapable.

  On days like this, when Orbe was out, I usually felt on-edge and anxious being outside. The Admonitions of the Brotherhood, warning of the dangers of Orbe and its cunning monsters, would ring in my ears from the moment I left shelter to the moment I returned. Today, though, I felt like I was sleepwalking through a patc
h of dense fog. My mind kept wandering back to the whispered argument my parents had had the night before. My father—my ordinary, unobtrusive father—had done something long ago to cross the Watch. And now he was afraid.

  That very imminent fear weighed on me more heavily than the distant threat of dragons ever had, regardless of my nightmare.

  My one consolation was that my parents showed no sign of knowing I’d overheard them last night. They’d behaved completely normally this morning, though the tension between them was painfully obvious. Before they left for their daily labor, my father had reminded me, his voice forceful, that the vision had been nothing more than a nightmare. “Every child dreams of the monsters of Orbe,” he’d said. “It’s normal.”

  I didn’t believe him.

  My eyes flicked unconsciously upward, toward Orbe. It was so massive that it almost seemed poised to devour our tiny world. The milky colors of its atmosphere swirled together, pale yellows tinged with hues of pink and orange. Occasionally snatches of blue and green became visible through gaps in the clouds, providing a small glimpse of what lay beyond our view.

  I’d never considered, really, what it was like on Orbe. The other world was a place of monsters, somewhere to be feared. It was Hell. Better to not think of it at all. But suddenly I found myself wondering what the view was like from the ground. Gale was so rocky and barren, with barely enough patches of greenery to sustain our small community. It occurred to me for the first time that Orbe might be different.

  Unbidden, an image appeared in my mind, of a lush green landscape, covered with plants tall enough that they seemed to brush the colorful sky. I froze, transfixed by the unexpected vision.

  What is this? My imagination? Or… something else?

  Against the yellow-tinged clouds, a black beast soared, its wings leaving a vibrant trail of light. It was so distant that it seemed little more than a speck, but I gasped nonetheless at the sight of it.

  “Miranda? Is something wrong?”

  The sound of the voice made me jump. One of my peers, a boy named Ari, stood next to me. I blinked and my eyesight seemed to realign itself. I realized that I’d been standing stock-still, staring intently at Orbe. A fresh wave of disorientation washed over me as I wondered whether that black speck among the clouds had been my imagination, or if I’d actually seen something there in the planet’s skies.

  “I thought I saw—” The words came out involuntarily, and I broke off in horror. I supposed Ari considered me his friend—as much as one could have friends on Gale—since he always made a point of walking and talking with me on the way to education, an easygoing smile ever-present on his face. But it was dangerous to tell anyone too much, especially now.

  I needn’t have worried, though. Ari was gazing at the planet above our heads a bit nervously himself. “Don’t look,” he advised, turning back to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just get to the education center as quickly as possible. We’ll be safe there.”

  I nodded, hurrying along next to him. I didn’t say another word. I felt strange; an odd, hollow sensation was building in my stomach. I’d never felt anything like it, and I hoped with all my might that I wouldn’t have a fit during education.

  It wasn’t until much later that I had a name to place with the sensation I felt that day: longing.

  ❦

  The educator began the lesson with ten verses from the Litany of the Brotherhood, professing the defeat of the Pantheon and the expulsion of the monsters from Gale three hundred years ago. The first line read, “The dark night sky grew blacker still, as the bodies of dragons filled the air.” It seemed too much of a coincidence. Anxiety pricked viciously under my skin. I tried to focus on keeping my face an expressionless mask—something I’d spent a lifetime practicing.

  Upon finishing the passage, the educator reverently closed the volume and looked out at my peers and me, grim-faced. “This chapter of the Litany deals with the two Brothers, Nio and Bastian, vanquishing the monsters of Orbe,” he said, “but their defeat was only temporary. The threat is real, to this day. The monsters still live, and they are constantly seeking to reclaim Gale for themselves. The Watch has given me a warning to pass on to you today, my students: last night, a dragon was spotted in the skies over Gale.”

  I nearly choked, but somehow managed to restrain myself. My peers reacted with similar alarm, though, I was sure, for different reasons.

  “Now, settle down,” the educator said. “I understand that this is concerning, but it is the reality that we deal with every day. The old gods wish to reclaim what was once theirs. But we must put our faith in the Brotherhood, and their sentinels, the Watch. They will protect our people, as ever.”

  I tried to calm myself with the educator’s words, but my heart was still beating out of control. My skin tingled, and drawing a deep breath seemed impossible. I was used to the constant companionship of anxiety, but this felt different. This felt like a fit was imminent.

  Not here. Not now.

  The educator was still speaking. In the back of my mind, I numbly heard him advising everyone to make sure their windows and doors were secure, reapply blacking to any opening in their house, and to contact the Watch if they heard or saw anything suspicious. Ordinarily I’d be paying him strict attention, taking down diligent notes, but right now I couldn’t think of anything but getting away from the classroom.

  Somehow, I managed to get to my feet without shaking too much, and incline my head deferentially.

  “Forgive me, educator,” I said, relieved that my voice was convincingly steady. “I’m afraid I need to use the lavatory.”

  He narrowed his eyes, but nodded curtly.

  Stiff-limbed, I hobbled down the corridor to the lavatory. I kept my fists clenched, willing the tremors to hold off with all my might. I never thought I’d make it, but against all odds, I managed to get into the washroom and close the door behind me before collapsing to my knees in a fit of spasms.

  Contractions rolled up and down my body. My muscles ached from exertion. My breath came in short bursts, hissing in through my nostrils and out through clenched teeth. A fresh wave of nausea erupted from my stomach, and my ears rang. Each pulse along my body was like a bolt of electricity, of lightning.

  And thunder.

  And wind…

  In a blink I was back out in the storm. Short brown hair whipped around my face as the wind howled mournfully in my ear, keening once more in that language I couldn’t understand.

  Not again, I thought, gazing across the rocky terrain. Last night, I might have been able to fool myself into thinking this was only a dream—even the landscape I saw this morning could have just been my mind wandering—but this left no room for doubt. My fits were causing this, whatever this was.

  Are you there? It was the girl’s voice from the night before, and I recoiled in shock.

  Summoning all my courage, I called out, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

  As if in reply, a bolt of lightning streaked down from the clouds, charring the rocks at my feet. I screamed and leapt backward, my eyes squeezing shut automatically.

  When I dared to open them again, a girl stood on the blackened earth where the lightning had struck. My heart caught in my throat. She was unlike any girl I’d ever seen: tall and elegant; her fair hair long and streaming with colors, soft greens and dusky pinks. Her clothes were even more vibrant, a stark contrast to my dingy beige linens. Whoever she was, she was clearly not of this world.

  She looked around herself, as if she were as confused by her sudden arrival in this place as I was.

  “What are you?” I asked her, my voice trembling. “A… a goddess?” According to the Litany, the Brothers had banished the old deities to Orbe, so that all men would be equal. But if the monsters still existed, perhaps the Pantheon lived on as well. It was the only way my brain could reconcile this otherworldly creature before me.

  The girl blinked at me in bewilderment, then scoffed. “What? No, of course not! I�
�� my name is Ferda.” She spoke with a strange accent, and pronounced her name like ‘fair-deh.’ I repeated it, my tongue tripping over the foreign syllables.

  “Why are you appearing to me like this?” she asked. Her question caught me off guard, because I was going to ask her the same thing. “Who are you? Is this… is this Gale?”

  I froze, suddenly wary of answering her. Perhaps she was not divine at all. The monsters of Orbe had strange tricks, the educator had warned. Could one of them be using me to try to get a foothold on Gale?

  But she was in my mind, probing, seeking the answers out herself. Against my will, I heard myself replying, “This is Gale. And I… I am…”

  “Miranda!”

  The sound of my name shocked me out of the vision. I was lying on the cold stone floor of the lavatory, my limbs still jerking and writhing uncontrollably. A knock came from the door. “Miranda, are you all right?”

  It was Ari’s voice. I ran a stiff palm across my abdomen, softly urging the shuddering to slow. “I’m all right,” I called back in as level a tone as I could. “I’m just feeling a bit sick to my stomach. It’s, um, it’s my menses.” That ought to afford me a few more moments’ privacy.

  “All right,” Ari replied uncertainly. “The educator sent me to check on you. I’ll report back… unless you need anything?”

  “I’m fine,” I answered. My body had almost stilled. If I could just lie here for another minute or two, I’d be all right to return to the lesson. I hoped.

  When at last the twitching tapered off, I struggled into a sitting position and rested my head against the closed washroom door. My heart was still pounding, both from the vision and from my secret almost being revealed. This was the first time I had ever had a fit in public, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last. It was only a matter of time before I got caught.

  I couldn’t keep on like this.

  Shakily, I rose to my feet, brushed off my breeches and inhaled deeply. I was certain, now. I was going to have to talk to my father.