Aeonian Dreams

by Morgan J. Muir

  “Then what?”

  He turned back toward her and caressed her cheek. “It is nothing for you to worry your pretty self about, sweetling.”

  Appeased, Elisa left to retrieve a book from the cabin. Settling down across the deck from him, she began to read. It always surprised him to see her read; she didn’t seem the type. He watched her fondly for a while, but it was a distant feeling. Almost, he felt he wouldn’t really mind if they went their separate ways. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t sure what it was. His mind went to the strange amulet in his pocket, and his gaze returned to the horizon.

  Chapter 14

  Something had changed. Mariah could feel it pulling at her, and she longed to return to her dream world to answer the call, but Sophus had insisted there was no time for them to waste. He had not been gone nearly as long as Mariah had hoped, though she had successfully followed him in the dream world to Theron’s lair. She had carefully hidden from Theron’s reaching tendrils of darkness, surprised to find that they would not go near Sophus. She had stayed as close to him as she dared, hoping that whatever protected him would shield her as well. The way Theron had brutally taken over Miguel’s mind had shocked her. She knew that Theron was controlling her husband, actually seeing how Theron had reached his dark hand into Miguel’s head and taken hold of his mind, squeezing until Miguel could no longer even move … It made her shudder.

  Then she had heard Theron’s voice, whispering to Miguel and Elisa just beyond her hearing. She could hear it and see it reaching out toward her, searching, as though he knew she was there. Seeking to ensnare her as well, and she had dodged it in fear. In fact, the experience had frightened Mariah more than she wanted to admit, even to herself. She was relieved, even grateful, when Elisa of all people had convinced Theron to ease off. At least there is one thing to be grateful to her for, Mariah admitted grudgingly, though she was angry that she’d been right about Elisa and her husband.

  Mariah had returned to her body, making sure she could find the way back through the dream world. She would need to be careful of Theron if she returned; his powers seemed to work similarly to hers, and that meant she was likely susceptible to him. On the other hand, if he was able to control things in the physical world from that ethereal plane, then perhaps she could, too. It was true that she’d been able to influence her son, but they had always been connected, and nothing else had ever responded to her. She would have to ask Kasha the next time they spoke.

  Sophus had them running along at a brisk pace. Mariah had gone out for runs before, but never for such a distance, and it still amazed her that she never grew tired.

  “Do you really think Iráma had enough time to get there before us?” Mariah asked as they went.

  “As long as she left when I told her, she has had plenty of time. She will likely already be on her way to the next village by now,” he said pleasantly.

  “That woman always amazes me,” Mariah responded and then lapsed back into silence. Her mind turned again to Theron’s knuckle, which she had hidden safely away in her room. Before Sophus had returned, Mariah had made a cursory search for more, but had found nothing. She’d need to find a way of checking the statues that didn’t involve damaging the stone. Not that it mattered at this point; she still didn’t know what to do with them if she did find them, beyond experimentation on how to destroy them. It occurred to her, as well, that if Theron wanted them back, then perhaps they were still viable, and who knew how or if he was still connected to them. Would he feel it if they were damaged? Did he feel it when she touched the knuckle? The thought made her shudder.

  “You should follow closer to me, mi corazón,” Sophus called out, breaking into her thoughts. Mariah realized she’d been veering from him as they ran.

  “Of course, my lord,” she said humbly, changing course and angling back. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, either. She was being pulled south, drawn by some unseen force. In the past, she had often found herself staring off into the distance, usually northward. She had suspected that it was the direction in which she would find Miguel, and now, after following Sophus, she was certain. That same, strange call had pulled her from her home while still pregnant and set her on this path. How could it have been strong enough to make her leave her son? She loved Miguel, and even though her love for Álvaro was incomparably stronger, everything between his birth and her arrival at Sophus’s lair remained a blank. But now, something about her connection to Miguel had changed, and it wasn’t just the direction. Now it was like a beacon in her mind, a bright light in the darkness, luring her toward it.

  Noticing that she had again strayed, Mariah turned her concentration on following Sophus. Presently a village came into view and they slowed to a more mortal speed, walking the last bit of distance.

  “It will give them time to see us coming and finish their preparations,” Sophus explained when she gave him a questioning look.

  The opportunity to be back among her mother’s people pleased Mariah, despite the need to avoid familiarity. But what could he do to me now, even if he did know? The faces of the people of her mother’s village flashed across her mind, followed by Kasha giving her a warning look. He was not to know that she was part Wayuu. I suppose you’re right, Mariah sighed.

  As they entered, the villagers swarmed out to greet their visitors. How strange, Mariah thought, noticing that there were no children in the crowd that greeted them. She remembered her mother’s village had been full of children.

  A village elder came up to Sophus and greeted him warmly, directing them to his home.

  “Ah,” Sophus said in Castilian once they had been settled, “if there is one thing I truly like about these people, it is their hospitality. They are quite possibly the most accommodating I’ve ever met.”

  “They were to me, too, when I first met them,” Mariah returned. A young woman brought in cups for them and quickly bowed out again as Sophus eyed her. “The thing I can’t seem to get over,” she continued, “is that so many of these, probably that girl, too, were still small children the last time I was outside your home. I can hardly believe it has been so long.”

  “Indeed, my dear. The time can pass so unnoticed sometimes. I’m often surprised whenever I notice that Iráma has begun to show her age.”

  Mariah laughed. “I’d hardly say that, just because she has a couple wrinkles now. She is still the most graceful and efficient person I’ve ever met.”

  “If you insist,” Sophus conceded as the elders began to arrive. Once everyone was present and settled, Sophus addressed them in Wayuunaiki, thanking them for their hospitality and introducing Mariah. He continued with pleasantries, asking them all about their crops and herds, illnesses and general village news. As they talked, other villagers began filling the edges of the room, anxious to hear what the Noble One had come to say. Almost before Mariah realized it, they were speaking of the Spaniards and the trouble they caused. Subtly, Sophus found a way to lay all the village’s troubles back on the Spanish, and Mariah could feel the mood of the crowd change. Even some of the elders were nodding. Just as Mariah began to wonder if Sophus would create a mob, he abruptly changed the subject to the planned festivities. The tension began to lighten, and most of the younger men wandered out, too bored to remain after the change of topic.

  Mariah continued to watch, finding the ebb and flow of the conversation intriguing. She participated when addressed directly, but found herself content to merely listen. To her surprise, Sophus did not bring up the Spaniards again during their stay.

  As night fell the festivities began, and Mariah was drawn into the experience, reveling in the culture that was hers by birth. She felt the beat of the dances around the bonfire inside her chest like a missing heartbeat and the imagery during the telling of legends pulled her in. So vivid were the tales that she could see in the flames the bright colors of the Si’a bird. As she watched, she recognized him as the figure in the tu’uma stone Wuchii had given her. The story continued, cla
iming Si’a was pulashi — magical — and had been sent from the jealous Pulowi, Goddess of the Land, to steal a bag of jewels from the sea goddess. Mariah watched the bird carry the brightly decorated susu bag back to his mistress in the flames, amazed at the detail she saw there.

  Curious, she threw her consciousness up and out of her body, hoping to still be able to see the creature. Everything around her seemed to come to life, like a brilliantly colored painting that could move. Si’a rose up from the flames, the colorful bag filled with jewels and the precious stones, and she recognized him as the black and gold bird who had first guided her in her dreams. As he circled the flames, the heat lifting him higher, a dash of red fell from the bag and he took off to the southwest. Without thinking, Mariah’s ethereal hand shot out to grab the falling object as she watched the ethereal bird disappear into the night. She was not surprised to find it was tu’uma, the precious red coral valued so highly by her mother’s people. To her amazement, as she watched, the details changed. It was highly polished and intricately carved, set in worked silver and surrounded by a dozen tiny diamonds that sparkled like a frozen fire …

  You are pulashi indeed, Mariah said to the vanished bird. Closing her fist around the stone pendant she had inherited from her mother, she followed Si’a through the dream world, south and west.

  ***

  Mikhael stood on the balcony of a large plantation home, enjoying a break from the bustle and noise of the party within. Elisa had gone to great lengths to ensure they would be both admitted to the party and the society, but not recognized. Theron had warned them that if they ever cut their hair it would never grow back, so, short of that, they had done everything they could think of to help with the disguise. Elisa had donned copious amounts of makeup and rouge while Mikhael had added a sort of chalk to lighten in his dark hair. Even his clothes felt foreign, tight and ill-fitting, with the addition of some padding around his waist.

  It was a relief to get away.

  The balcony overlooked the northern fields and, despite the darkness of the cloudy night, Mikhael could see the movement of each plant in the breeze. Resting his elbows on the railing, he pulled out the pendant and regarded it, turning it over and over in the darkness. Something about it, something in the feel of it, drew him in, pulling at him.

  “What are you?” he asked the red stone softly. Sighing, he looked back into the darkness. To his surprise, he saw a lone figure walking through the fields. It was well after midnight, and most of the household had gone to bed, save the few who remained to wait on the guests for the lingering party. Glancing about to make sure no one saw, Mikhael leapt nimbly over the bannister and dropped the two stories to the ground in silence.

  He could no longer see the figure in the distance, but went in the direction he figured it would be. As he walked, the pregnant clouds decided they’d waited long enough and began to let loose their bounty. Elisa would be angry about his clothes getting wet, but he didn’t care. He could see the figure, there in the rain, but despite his enhanced vision it remained unclear. He took a wide route around, not wanting to frighten the fellow before he got a good look.

  As Mikhael drew closer, he realized it was a woman. She had stopped walking and begun dancing in the rain, moving to a beat he could not hear. He watched, entranced by her graceful movement. Her beautiful, dark hair flowed around her as she turned, and the skirts of her red dress spun and twisted, moving as though they were a part of her. He stood, captivated, as the rain matted his hair down and ran trails of chalk over his face. Watching her movements, he thought he could feel the primal rhythms to which she danced beating within his still chest.

  He was drawn toward her. Without thinking, he stepped into the clearing, wanting nothing more than to be closer. Mikhael caught glimpses of her face as she moved, so peaceful and lovely. It tugged at his heart. Something about her put him at ease as he crept nearer, and yet, something felt off.

  He drew closer, surprised that she had still not noticed him, even in her reverie. His wet clothing stuck to him, and he tugged at it, annoyed. Her dance ended with her face turned toward the sky as if to catch the rain. Abruptly, he realized that the rain wasn’t touching her. Her dress swirled in wind that was not there, and her hair was not wet. He understood now what it was that had him on edge. Though he could see her, he could not smell nor hear her. Was she a ghost, then?

  She lowered her eyes, looking right at him, and the world stopped.

  Mikhael’s gaze was locked with hers. Her eyes were dark, almost black in the darkness with hair to match. Long, dark, flowing hair that he longed to run his fingers through; hair he knew would be softer than anything else he’d ever touched. She smiled at him, her eyes full of joy. A glinting at her throat drew his gaze and he saw the red stone in the silver setting. Slowly, with the feeling that this was nothing but a dream, he pulled the matching pendant from his pocket. An impossible dream. The stone and silver felt real enough in his hands, and he looked questioningly at the strange woman.

  He needed to know she was real, not a figment of his mind, not a cruel trick of his captor’s. He reached out to touch the necklace on the woman as she opened her mouth to speak, reaching toward him. Then, where she had stood, there was nothing, not even an indent on the wet earth. But a single word rang through his mind, like a memory being made in a voice that any angel would envy. A word that shook him to the core and filled him with life beyond anything he’d experienced. “Miguel!”

  Mikhael took his time returning to the house, the pendant tucked carefully away. Who was that? What was that? he wondered, worrying at the mystery like a dog with a bone. It couldn’t have been Theron; Miguel would have felt him gloating. Theron was incapable of playing such a trick without his glee showing at the pain and confusion he’d caused. No, this was something else. But what?

  His mind replayed the memory, considering every aspect of the woman he could remember. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, dark and mysterious. Her eyes, so dark, had been so full of life and emotion. He walked automatically, engrossed in thoughts of her. Every thought brought a wave of poignant joy crashing through him, filling his chest, making him feel that he would burst. It was intoxicating, and he walked without notice or care, and climbed up to the balcony where he’d first seen the dark figure. He stood in the lessening rain, leaning against the bannister. Staring out across the darkness, he smiled the first real smile of his new life.

  ***

  Where is that infernal man? Elisa wondered impatiently. Here she was, working hard at the task dear Theron had set them to. Miguel was supposed to be working on the other men, but they had just returned without him. She scowled at the sound of the deluge outside, knowing what the rain would do to her dress if she went out in it.

  “Oh, you can’t think it’s that terrible!” some inane woman with whom Elisa had been stuck for the last quarter of an hour declared. Elisa immediately smiled and laughed, pouring on the charm and redirecting the conversation.

  You have such a way with people, my dear, Theron chimed in, brushing her mind gently.

  There you are! Have you been enjoying the party? Elisa teased.

  I have been studiously avoiding it all. When you’ve lived as long as I, they all become the same dull thing. No one ever thinks of anything new. I prefer to avoid all the chatter anyway and just cut to the heart of things.

  Yes, if you like things to be easy, Elisa cooed at him, returning his mental caress. But nothing easy is ever interesting. Speaking of interesting, do you know where our wayward puppy has wandered off to?

  Theron laughed. Do you realize how much he hates being called a dog? I find it absolutely delicious that you continue in that way. It makes him so flustered. He is out on the balcony, attempting to be introspective no doubt.

  I suppose I’d better go fetch him. Elisa heaved a sigh and excused herself. She found Miguel standing carelessly in the rain. His wet hair grew increasingly dark as the chalk washed away, and Elisa wrinkled her nose at the though
tless way he’d allowed his clothes to become soaked. It really wouldn’t do for him to track such amounts of water all through their host’s home.

  “Miguel!” she called out to him, attempting to be patient. He turned and smiled at her, a smile full of love, and memory. And not for her. Elisa’s ire flared; he was thinking of her again. She scowled as he walked toward her, but pitched her voice to sound concerned. “Miguel, what have you been doing? I can’t believe you’d stand out in the rain like that. You’ll catch your death!”

  He only shrugged stupidly at her and followed her inside. Unable to raise any other response from him, she made her farewells to their host pleading fatigue. Once settled in their carriage and on their way back to their rented rooms, she tried a different tack. “What were you thinking, standing out in the rain? Your clothes are practically ruined and the chalk is nearly gone from your hair. You could have been recognized! Don’t you realize the cost it will be to try to launder these? We don’t have an unlimited budget, you know, and we have to maintain a style.”

  She continued on, but no matter what she said, he only smiled and nodded from time to time, staring out the window with that smirk of a smile on his face. Annoyed, Elisa finally sighed and fell silent. He obviously wasn’t listening. She’d just have to work harder at keeping him occupied, too busy to think of her.

  Chapter 15

  “Miguel!” Mariah breathed. The fire had died down, and only a few villagers remained, talking amongst themselves. Mariah did not notice them. He had seen her! Somehow he had found the necklace and it had brought them together and he had seen her! She felt suffused with joy; there was nothing she couldn’t do! After all this time, they would be together again!