Aeonian Dreams

by Morgan J. Muir

  She had been surprised when the pull had led her to a plantation on the northern part of Maracaibo, but she had followed it. The closer she’d gotten, the stronger it had called to her, like a promise about to be fulfilled. When the music in the Wayuu village had started it had moved her so strongly that she could not help but join in the dance. Her physical body had remained still while her ethereal body had danced far away in the rain. Then, as though she had summoned him, he was there.

  The sight of him! It was almost more than she could stand. It filled her so full of love and longing, poignant emotions that she could hardly contain. Her heart had been in her throat when she looked at him. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but was rooted to ground. His eyes, no longer green but a maze of silver chased with dark red, held her immobile while the rest of existence fell away. Then he had reached for her ….

  … and she was back in her body, miles away, standing in the flickering light, reaching out toward the darkness. He had seen her. There was hope.

  “Mariah?” The unwelcome voice cut through to her, and the world crashed back into her. Quickly, she schooled her face, trying to hold back the joy that tried fervently to burst from her chest. Though she tried, she was not able to entirely succeed.

  “Are you all right?” Sophus pressed.

  “Yes,” Mariah said, trying to not sound breathless. “Yes.”

  “You look a little … pale,” he said with a wry grin. Mariah couldn’t help but laugh, a real, genuine laugh that Sophus had never heard from her before. He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

  “The music was amazing,” she said, hoping the explanation was sufficient. “I’ve never heard anything like it. What can I say? It moved me.”

  “Indeed,” he said, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Well, if you are ready, it is time to be moving on to the next village.”

  “So soon?”

  “Yes. Though Iráma will have been there already, it lends a sense of mystery if we disappear in the night and are in the next village by morning.” Sophus started walking into the darkness and Mariah fell into stride beside him.

  “What about the gifts from the villagers?” she asked.

  “I do not want to be burdened with things as we go from village to village. They will be left just outside the villages, and either Iráma or I will collect them on our return. But, they did give us this, which was kind.” Sophus tossed her a waterskin. She caught it deftly and sniffed. Goat again, this time with a marginally better hint of sheep. With a shrug, she drank and they continued on.

  They did not spend more than a day in any village, sometimes arriving only hours after Iráma had left. Each village had its own personality, though their welcome varied little. More and more often, Sophus pulled her into the conversation with the elders, though he continued to take the lead. The festivities in the evenings continued to be interesting, sprinkled with stories that Mariah had never heard told as often as the ones she had. When appropriate, she joined in the dancing and occasionally even convinced Sophus to as well. Then, when most of the village had retired for the evening, the two of them would leave, often with a gift of blood, arriving in the next village by sunrise.

  Sophus had kept a closer eye on her since that first night, and Mariah was afraid to search for Miguel again. She feared that he would suspect something if she left. But even Sophus could not dampen her high spirits. She smiled warmly to everyone, felt that she was walking on air, and laughed at all of Sophus’s jokes. She even cracked a few of her own.

  “I’m glad I brought you,” he said to her one morning as they walked.

  “I’m glad you’re glad,” she said. “But what brings this up?”

  “You just seem so much more” — Sophus paused to think up the word— “alive than I’ve ever seen you. It is nice.”

  “I’m glad it agrees with you,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “I think it’s even rubbed off on you a little. Don’t look now, but I think you’ve been genuinely enjoying yourself.”

  “I have indeed. For the first time in a very, very long time,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Sounds to me like you’re the one who needs to get out more,” Mariah said, nudging him with her elbow. He laughed and she couldn’t help but join.

  ***

  Emelia waited, watching for Papa and Álvaro to return from her window. She’d been luckier than she’d realized when she had picked this room after Nora was born. It had the best vantage of the hacienda’s front gate, and she would be the first to know of their return.

  “What are you waiting for?” Lani asked. “Come play with us.”

  Emelia sighed. “It just isn’t fair. Why does Álvaro get a real horse and I have to stay with a docile little pony? I’m older than he is, already nine. There’s no reason I shouldn’t have one, too.”

  “You know your mother is against it,” Muusa said from her corner chair where she was making a brightly colored bag.

  “Álvaro is lucky. He doesn’t have a mother to tell him no when he wants things,” Emelia said, dropping her chin onto her hands on the casement. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she shouldn’t have said them.

  “Álvaro’s mother was a dear friend of mine. I’m sure she would rather be here with him than dead,” said Muusa sharply. “A mother is not a thing that can be replaced. We all do our best to make up the lack for him, but I’m sure he’d trade places with you any day. Be grateful for your mother, child.” With that, Muusa quietly folded up her work, swept up Norita, and left the room, gesturing her daughter to follow. Lani gave Emelia a sheepish grin as if to apologize before following her mother out the door.

  Emelia sighed again as she waited, now alone in the room. She ought to read, or work on her embroidery; goodness knew Abuelita Olivia would be cross if it wasn’t finished, but all Emelia could think about was horses.

  Too impatient to wait inside any longer, Emelia went out to the stable to enjoy the silent, understanding company of her pony. Golden whickered and stuck her nose out of the box expectantly, so Emelia held out one of the apples she’d brought. She rubbed the white star between the docile brown eyes as the pony’s velvet muzzle brushed her palm. Golden chomped the apple, dropping a slobbery half back into Emelia’s waiting palm.

  “If I just wait around like they expect me to, do you think Mama will ever let me move on?” Emelia asked. “I’d bet if it were up to Papa, it’d be a different matter, but he’ll never do anything against Mama’s wishes.”

  Golden responded by picking up the remaining apple from her hand and depositing more slobber in return.

  “After all,” Emelia said, careful to wipe her hand on a nearby sack rather than her skirt this time, “Mama will certainly not let me have a real horse if she thinks I’m being careless. Not that you’re not a real horse, of course.”

  Golden lipped at her pockets for more treats. Emelia laughed, pushing Golden’s nose away, and began to brush down the pony’s neck.

  “It’s just that you’re a pony, and your legs just aren’t long enough to keep up with Álvaro’s Wind, that’s all. Besides, it’ll only be a few more years before Norita will be old enough to ride, and she already loves you.”

  As though on cue, Emelia heard the characteristic sounds of her little sister entering the stable, and a beautiful idea formed in her mind.

  “Wanna ride Golden Pony!” Nora cried, running down the way with Anna, her nursemaid, hurrying after her.

  “You want to ride my Golden?” Emelia asked as her sister crashed into her legs. “I’m sure Golden would love to take you around. Stay here while I saddle her.”

  Nora reached up toward the pony, and Golden lowered her head, inspecting the familiar newcomer.

  “Senorita—” Anna, the nursemaid, began to protest.

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind if my favorite little sister rides. I’ll even lead her around.” Emelia winked at Nora and called a stablehand to saddle the pony with the small saddle.

  “But
you’re going to Casa de la Cuesta this afternoon for your lessons, and you know the little senorita will scream for an hour if you take the pony away.”

  “Well, I’ll just have to leave Golden here with you, then.”

  Nora could hardly contain her excitement as the pony was saddled and Emelia helped her up.

  “Hold tight, now,” Emelia warned as she took the lead rope and walked them out into the courtyard. Nora squealed and kicked wildly at the saddle, but the thick leather absorbed the impact, and Golden heaved a sigh.

  “You know, you’re doing me a huge favor,” Emelia whispered to Golden as they began the first circuit around the courtyard. “And it means you’ll be back in your stall munching hay sooner, besides. Mama always likes to say that a little extra work now means less later, and that’s what we’re doing here.”

  They had finished the third round and had begun the fourth when the call came to open the gate, signaling her father’s return. She couldn’t help the grin on her face as he and Álvaro came in on their horses with the cart not far behind them.

  “Go! Go!” Nora called, waving the reins and kicking the saddle again. Emelia obliged her by turning Golden to meet the riders. “Hola, Papa! I’m riding!”

  “So you are, my little Leonora,” her father said with a laugh as he swung down from his saddle and handed the reins to his stablehand.

  “I thought I’d let her ride Golden a bit before Álvaro and I needed to go to Abuelita Olivia’s for our lessons today.”

  “Is it that time already?”’ her father asked, stretching his back. “The day has gotten away from me. Álvaro, don’t worry about the ledger for now, I’ll take care of it. You’d best wash your face and head out with Emelia.”

  “Yes, Tío Benito,” Álvaro said, shooting Emelia a conspiratorial grin.

  “I’ll wait here,” Emelia said as he ran off. She continued leading her sister and pony on their placid trek around the courtyard, avoiding eye contact with Nora’s nursemaid, who stood, fuming, near the stables.

  She had not made it back to the stables when Álvaro reappeared, leading Wind.

  “Well, let’s go,” he said, swinging up onto his mare. Emelia looked to Nora.

  “Norita, do you want to keep riding Golden?” she asked.

  Nora nodded.

  “Then you’d better scream and fuss when I tell you to get down. Can you do that?”

  Her sister’s eyes got wide, but she nodded again.

  “Time to get off then,” Emelia said, reaching up. Nora hesitated a moment, then gripped the saddle with both hands and shrieked. Both horses shied at the sudden sound, but Golden was too placid to do much more than take a couple steps to the side. Emelia chuckled as Álvaro got Wind under control.

  “What is going on?” Nora’s nursemaid demanded, marching up to them.

  “Leonora doesn’t want to get down. I suppose you’ll just have to lead her around some more, because it is time for me to be off,” Emelia said, planting the lead rope in the nursemaid’s hands.

  “Come on, Álvaro. It is time to go,” she said, starting toward the gate.

  “Hold on, now,” Álvaro objected, nudging his horse to walk beside her. You can’t walk all the way there. Tia Olivia would have kittens.”

  “Well, you’d better let me ride up with you then,” Emelia said.

  Álvaro was silent a moment as he thought about it. “Your mother would kill me if she knew.”

  “Mama worries too much. Besides, if she’s that worried about me being on Wind, then she should just get me a horse of my own.”

  “I don’t know ….”

  “Álvaro.” Emelia stopped just outside the gate and turned to him, her hands on her hips. “Are you really going to make me walk all the way to Casa de la Cuesta while you ride? I did get you out of doing ledgers, so you owe me.”

  “You’d better not get me into trouble,” he said, removing his foot from the stirrup so she could climb on.

  “Just … don’t do anything stupid to make me fall off,” she said, holding him tight as she situated herself. She tried to be brave as she looked down. The ground was so much farther down than it was with Golden. But she was on a real horse! Her heart beat in her throat from equal parts fear and joy, and despite her best efforts to relax, she clung a little tighter to Álvaro when Wind started off.

  ***

  When she was free to let her mind wander, Mariah split the time between thinking of Miguel as she had last seen him, and experimenting with moving her physical body while in the spirit world. From the beginning, she had been unable to do so with any reliability, and she had never cared. Until now. Seeing Miguel had ignited a fire in her, and she needed to be able to see. Not just when the opportunity arose to safely leave her body, but any time.

  Mariah had decided to start small. She found she could move her eyes while she was in the dream world, but so far, attempting to focus on what she was seeing snapped her back to her body. It was painfully slow progress, but it was progress nonetheless.

  Iráma was waiting for them by the front entrance when they arrived back at Sophus’s caves. Though she refused to call the place home, Mariah was glad to be back. She had enjoyed herself immensely with the Wayuu; they had been so welcoming of her. Mariah hoped that Sophus hadn’t noticed the difference between their kindness for her and their simple fearful respect for him. More than anything, she was glad of the opportunity to be alone for a bit, to be away from Sophus’s ever-watchful eye, even if she couldn’t completely avoid him here.

  The sun broke over the horizon as they walked through the entrance. Mariah felt a sense of sadness as they passed from its light into the initial section of darkness. Between most of the lit rooms were sections of complete darkness. Complete for mortals, anyway, Mariah thought. Sophus had designed his labyrinth to confuse anyone who came in, and most especially, to keep them from finding their way out again. Only Iráma, Sophus, and herself knew how to find the entrance from the inside. Mariah had learned through painful experience what happened to those who wandered; she had been lucky to survive her foolishness.

  Iráma led them through the halls to Sophus’s room, opening the door with her usual sweeping bow. Mariah walked in with the feeling of walls closing in around her, and the closing of the door felt like the snapping shut of a cage. It put her on edge.

  In the center of the room, laid out on a large table that normally was not there, were all the gifts Iráma had collected from the villages. Mariah tried to shake the feeling of being trapped as she looked through them. There were beautiful woven baskets and native jewelry, precious stones and crop seeds, tools and herbs. Noticeably absent, however, were the tu’uma, the red stone that was most precious to the Wayuu, the same stone her necklace was made of. If Sophus was unaware of its absence, however, Mariah would not be the one to bring it up.

  “What will you do with all this?” she asked.

  “The practical things, the seeds, tools, animals, and the like, will be given to Iráma’s care and utilized as she sees fit. The rest I will use for trade, mostly on firearms and horses to give back to the villages to assist with their rebellion. It is in our best interest for them to remain free from the Europeans, after all,” Sophus said, picking up a random object and inspecting it briefly before setting it down again. They stood in silence for a few moments longer, looking at the various things on the table.

  “Well,” Mariah finally said, “I think I’m going to go clean up.”

  “Of course,” Sophus said, dismissively, almost sounding glad to have her leave.

  Mariah hurried to her own room, shutting the door behind her in relief. For the first time in weeks, she was alone. Though joy had filled her since that first night when she had found Miguel, she realized she had still been tense. She hated the idea of starting a war for Sophus’s benefit despite the altruistic justification of freedom that he gave.

  There was a knock at the door. Mariah opened it to Wuchii and a group of other women carrying steaming h
ot buckets of water.

  “That looks wonderful,” Mariah said, taking Wuchii’s load and beckoning the others in to fill her tub.

  “It’s good to have you back,” Wuchii said with a smile as she oversaw the preparation of the bath. “You look as though the travel did you good.”

  “It really did. It was a nice change of pace,” Mariah replied as the rest of the women left with their empty buckets. Mariah shut the door, and Wuchii sat carefully down on one of her chairs. “But, surprisingly, I am glad to be back.”

  “What happened while you were gone?” Wuchii prodded as Mariah began undressing.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re changed. You seem alive in a way that I have rarely seen from you.”

  “That’s what Sophus said,” Mariah responded with a laugh while gesturing “later” to Wuchii with her hand, ever aware of the possibility of Sophus overhearing them.

  “Of course.” Wuchii smiled and changed the subject as Mariah settled into the bath, washing the dust from her hair. They chatted amiably while Mariah relaxed until the water cooled, which happened quicker than she would have liked. It wasn’t so much that the water relaxed her muscles as that it calmed her mind; her muscles never got sore or weary, never needed to rest or relax. Wuchii helped her dry and brushed her hair before leaving, claiming pressing chores that remained to be done.

  Finding herself alone and with nothing to do, Mariah sat down and resumed her self-imposed training.

  Mariah had tried searching for Miguel for again, and had been able to easily follow the beacon of her necklace. He had returned to the north, but Theron’s reaching presence had stopped her before she could find him. Instead, when Mariah grew weary of training, and her son was asleep, she spent her free time searching for more of Theron’s body. She started in the room where she had found the first piece, hopeful of finding more in the statue that had held the first. Mariah worked her way through the pile of stone, carefully examining each pale rock chunk. For the first time she came to truly appreciate the artistry and skill of her companion as each piece of stone held the same degree of detail as the finger she kept in a pouch at her waist. The quickest way to tell them apart, Mariah found, was to gently squeeze each piece. The cold, stony finger had give to it, but the actual stone just crumbled between her fingers. She was disappointed to find nothing in the rubble.