Voyage of the Fox Rider
Page 32
“Is it difficult?”
Aylis pondered Aravan’s question. “I did not think so…nor for that matter did Jinnarin. But I had been schooled as a seeress, and so it came easily to me. Jinnarin, on the other hand, has had no such schooling, but she learned swiftly regardless.”
“Hmm,” mused Aravan thoughtfully, then added, “Mayhap what comes easily to Pysks or Magekind or others of similar ilk is difficult for Humans. Someday thou must try to teach me, then we perhaps shall see.”
Aylis raised up and peered into Aravan’s eyes. “Oh, love, how wonderful, for then we would walk our dreams together and shape them as we will.”
Aravan smiled. “I am already walking my dream with thee, chieran.”
Aylis leaned down and kissed him gently, then returned to listening to the beat of his heart.
After a long silence, Aravan whispered, “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
His embrace tightened but he said nought.
Soon she raised up and kissed him again, and they made gentle love.
“It is not easy to sleep while someone else is watching,” rumbled Jatu.
Neither Jinnarin nor Aylis answered.
“I mean, here I lie like a stiff log while you two sit as would a dark, silent Uhra with her little Jeju familiar at her side…or in this case, the Jeju perches to my left while the Uhra sits to the right.”
Still Aylis and Jinnarin said nothing, each maintaining her state of light meditation.
The three were in Aylis’s old quarters, having commandeered it for dreamwalking purposes. Jatu lay on a pallet in the floor, the bunk being entirely too short for his giant frame. Aylis sat cross-legged with her back to a wall, her hands, palms up, resting lightly on her thighs, her eyes mere glittering slits. Jinnarin sat in a like manner but up on the bunk on the opposite side of Jatu. Rux lay beneath the bunk asleep. The room was dimly illuminated by a single shielded candle.
“Even though I can see you two, I feel as if I were prey to some unseen jungle predator.”
Both Jinnarin and Aylis remained silent.
Jatu sighed and shifted about, attempting to quell his uneasiness by means of physical comfort.
It did not help.
After a while of tossing and turning, Jatu leapt up and slammed out of the cabin. Though Rux lifted his head and looked, neither Jinnarin nor Aylis made a move. The fox went back to sleep.
Shortly thereafter, Jatu came back in and lay down once more, and moments later, somewhere nearby a sailor began to sing, his words distant and sometimes lost in the blustery wind, sails slapping in the blow, rope and tackle creaking, waves shshing against the sides, the Eroean rising and falling across the long ocean swells.
“
Although Jinnarin could not see Jatu’s sleeping face, she knew that his eyes must be whipping back and forth beneath his lids. She slipped into a state of deep meditation and used another of the ingrained
An ill black Man dressed in a loincloth lay on a woven mat, a young, bare-breasted black Woman in attendance, plying wet cloths to the Man’s brow. Peering in ‘round the edge of the doorway was a tall black youth, his face twisted in torment. In the distance beyond the youth could be seen an approaching Man dressed all in rushes, his black face painted a ghastly white, and in his hand he bore a cup, a viper, a flower, a cup, a snake, a root, a cup.
“I don’t want to see this,” said Sparrow, turning away.
“We must watch and remember, Sparrow,” responded Brightwing.
Sparrow shivered and shook her head, No. “Brightwing, it is where Jatu killed the Jujuba. That is Jatu’s father and mother. The youth is Jatu. The black Man coming with the poisoned cup is the Jujuba. I do not want to see this. Let us go. Let us go now!”
Brightwing sighed and turned, and in the wall appeared a hole leading elsewhere. But even as they approached it, the withes of the wall began to shudder and shift, melting and running down.
“Quick!” shouted Brightwing. “Flee!”
They leapt out through the hole in the hut and into the ship’s cabin where three people were—a Pysk, a Lady Mage, and a thrashing black Man—along with a fox pacing nervously back and forth alongside the bunk on which Jinnarin sat.
“No!” shouted Jatu, bolting upright, sweat runnelling down his face and neck and chest.
Rux flinched down and back but then recovered, and he stood stock-still between his mistress and Jatu, his wary gaze focused on the face of the black Man.
Sparrow flew over and alighted by the Pysk—her corporeal self—and then she said a
…and opened her eyes.
“All right, Sparrow, now you form the bridge to Jatu’s dream.”
They stepped through the burrow tunnel toward the light, to emerge on the seat of a gig. Men rowed mightily, and in the fore Jatu held onto the haft of a great harpoon, his laughter ringing through the air.
Sparrow stepped among the sweating Men, making her way to the bow. “Jatu! Jatu!” she called, “What is it you hunt?”
Jatu swung his head about, his face lighted with joy. “Aha, little Jeju, we hunt that!” Jatu turned and pointed at a swift-running white cloud.
“A cloud, Jatu?”
“Aye, Jeju, a great cloud whale.”
Of a sudden Sparrow realized that the gig was high in the sky above the world, and behind sailed a great sky galleon up among the clouds, following the hurtling gig, Men and Dwarves aboard her cheering Jatu and his rowers onward.
Now Sparrow turned, peering forward, and the cloud they chased wafted a great tail up and down, propelling it ahead. “But why, Jatu? Why chase the clouds?”
Jatu doubled over with laughter, but he managed to gasp out, “‘For the fog blubber, little Jeju. For the precious fog blubber.” His great guffaws shattered the air, the rowers giggling and snickering even as they pulled hard on the oars.
“Sparrow,” said Brightwing, her face wreathed in smiles, “we must go. See the distant sky?”
Sparrow looked. As would a curtain blow in the wind, the sky at the horizon shifted and shimmered. The sky galleon began fading, and the clouds started vanishing one after another, like candles being snuffed out. “Oh my, this glorious dream is coming to an end,” she said.
“Bridge out,” said Brightwing.
Sparrow formed an opening into which she and Aylis stepped, and behind they heard Jatu laughing. “She blows! The cloud whale blows! She blows in the wind!” Again his laughter belled up.
As Brightwing and Sparrow murmured the
…Aylis and Jinnarin opened their eyes to the sound of soft laughter, Jatu chortling in his sleep.
“Fear not, Jinnarin, we will not dreamwalk the sending until you are ready.”
“When will that be?”
“I would say…one more night walking in Jatu’s dreams.”
Jinnarin smiled. “He has such wonderful dreams, doesn’t he? Quite unpredictable, neh?” Jinnarin’s smile vanished. “All but the one about the Jujuba, that is.”
Aylis nodded. Then a pondering look came over her face. “I wonder…”
Jinnarin glanced up at the seeress. “What?”
Aylis’s eyes were lost in reflection.
“What?” said Jinnarin again.
Aylis shook her head, as if rousing from the depths of her thoughts. She took a deep breath.
“You wonder what?” asked Jinnarin, hoping that this time she would be heard.
Aylis turned up her hands. “Oh, several things: I wonder if appalling events are forever repeated in one’s dreams. I wonder if those of great joy are oft relived in the shadowland as well. And I wonder if a grim event, such as Jatu’s, can be set aside so that it never troubles a dream or a dreamer again. If so, how? —Oh, if I had only asked Ontah…perhaps there is something we could do to ease Jatu’s dreams of this horrid event from his past.”
Jinnarin nodded. “Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”
Aylis smiled. “Perhaps we can find another teacher—one wise in the ways of dreamwalking and dream shaping.”
“On the other hand,” mused Jinnarin, “if we can’t, then perhaps we can discover on our own just how to cleanse one’s dreams of these awful events…eliminate them entirely.”
“Oh, Jinnarin, in that we must be most wary, for dreams in some fashion provide a way to purge fear and rage and other strong emotions, else they will feed upon themselves, to the harm of the person involved. To totally eliminate a dream, I think would do great damage. Instead a dreamhealer must find a way to bring harmony within a person’s mind and spirit and soul, and yet not dispose of the dream.”
“Aylis, are you saying that nightmares and other dreams of dread are good for the spirit, the mind, the soul?”
Aylis shook her head. “No, Jinnarin. What I am saying is that I simply do not know. Hence, we must not interfere such that we take the dream away.”
“But I thought that Ontah reshaped dreams in the minds of those he aided.”
Aylis nodded. “He did. But, Jinnarin, Ontah was remolding the dream, making it into something else, something safe, not eliminating it. How he did it, I do not know…and until I know, until we know, meddling with another’s dream represents a risk we should avoid.”
Jinnarin pondered a moment, then said, “The sum and substance of it, Aylis, is that Ontah knew what he was doing, whereas we do not.”
Aylis smiled. “‘Yes, my tiny Pysk…although we are not entirely ignorant in the art of dreamwalking, we know nothing yet of the art of dreamhealing, of reshaping another’s dream from something harmful into something benign.”
“Well, I certainly do not want to tamper with the sending.”
“Oh, I do not plan on attempting to remold it. Instead, I think that we must merely find out more of what lies within.”
Jinnarin shivered. “Something dreadful is what we are likely to find—something dire and dangerous…something that killed Ontah.”
Aylis reached out toward the Pysk. “Yes, Jinnarin, yet remember, it is a sending and not a dream of your own. But you are right—something dangerous lies within—and I would avoid the danger.”
“Just how will we do that? Have you a plan?”
Aylis spread her hands. “Not exactly a plan. A strategy instead. This I think is the truth of it: I believe that you must sleep a natural sleep to be guided into the sending. However, since it is a sending, it represents someone else’s dream. Hence, once you have begun the dream, if I intercept and alert you, you might be able to disengage from the sending just as if you were dreamwalking. Then, should aught go awry, we can both escape across a bridging—out from the sending and home.”
“Oh, Aylis, do you think it will work, this strategy of yours? Am I ready? Do I know enough?”
“As to the strategy, I can only hope it will work, Jinnarin. But as to your readiness, we need only to walk in but a handful more of Jatu’s dreams for you to gain experience in seeing when it is time to leave as well as shaping the bridges out.
“Then I want to walk some dreams of yours to practice making you aware within the dream itself.
“Then and only then will we walk within the sending.” Aylis pursed her lips. “I know of nothing else we can do to prepare us for the journey. Can you suggest anything?”
Jinnarin sat cross-legged and reflected deeply. At last she said, “I will take my bow and a quiver of arrows.”
Aylis’s mouth dropped open. “Bu-but, Jinnarin, this is a— How can—?”
“Easily,” interjected Jinnarin. “Since we can shape our dreams when we are aware, I will merely call my bow and arrows to me.”
Aylis laughed and clapped her hands.
The floor was transparent, and below a brawl raged to and fro within the barroom. Jatu rolled over in bed and said to the naked Woman, “Sorry, my fancy, but I—”
—he found himself hurling Arbalinian dockworkers out the doors of the Red Slipper, Bokar roaring at his side, the Dwarf without clothes yet covered with a thick matting of hair, and his arms were elongated and his knuckles dragged the ground. A dockworker charged and Bokar-ape hurled the laughing Man through the window and out into the waters of the bay. Suddenly the bordello was entirely empty, except for Bokar—who was now restored to his normal state, chainmail, helm, and axe, but no clothes. And down the stairwell came the many ladies of the Red Slipper, nude and inviting. Jatu quickened, responding to the lure.…
Jinnarin laughed, looking at Aylis standing beside her. “Perhaps we ought to go now.”
The walls began to waver.
“Now I know we ought to go,” said Jinnarin, forming a hollow log leading out from the dream. The two stepped into the cavity, leaving Jatu’s dissolving fantasy behind, and passed through the length of the log and into the cabin.
Jinnarin spoke the
Aylis watched him go. After a moment she said, “Men—males—are not the only ones who have such dreams.”
Jinnarin smiled to herself. “I know.”
Jinnarin crouched down, trembling in the grass. She could see the huge owl perched on the branch of the tree, its great unblinking yellow eyes fixedly locked upon her. Fumbling about, she didn’t have her bow, and Rux was nowhere to be seen.
“Jinnarin, look at me!”
It was Aylis.
“This is but a dream, Jinnarin—your dream.”
“My dream?”
“Yes. And as such, you can control it, do with it as you will.”
“Control…?” Of a sudden, her bow appeared in her hands—“Hai!”—and Rux was at her side.
The owl launched itself toward her. As the great slayer swooped down, its talons extended for the kill, “‘Rux!” cried the Pysk, and the fox ran up through the air and, snapping, leapt upon the raptor, and the two tumbled down toward the ground to fall beyond seeing in the deep grass. There sounded a din of skrawking and snarling, and then silence, and Rux came trotting through the meadow, an owl feather clinging to his mouth.
Sparrow turned to Brightwing standing beside her. “What now, Brightwing?”
“Ah, so now you are aware.”
“Yes,” responded Sparrow. “This is my dream, or rather Jinnarin’s, and I am in control.” Suddenly they stood on a high mountain overlooking a waterfall pouring out from the sky, a flutter of rainbows all about. “See?”
Brightwing laughed.
Now they stood upon a drifting cloud, peering down at a great forest with leaves of scarlet and gold. “Tell me something, Brightwing, if I were to make a bridge back to the cabin at this moment and say the
Brightwing’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, Sparrow, what a novel idea. But I know not the answer—perhaps it would be so, but then again perhaps not. If White Owl were here, he could advise us; yet he is not, and I do not know if there are risks involved, and without knowing, I think we had better not try.”
“If we take no risks, Brightwing, then we gain no knowledge,” said Sparrow. “Yet I will wait to try it another time…after we have found Farrix. Even so, I wish I knew the answer, for it may be a trick we will need when we venture the sending.�
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Brightwing nodded as they floated on a burgundy oak leaf down a burbling rill mid a swarm of iridescent dragonflies. “If we are somehow left without choice, then will be the time to attempt such.”
When Brightwing stepped into the dream, she found herself among churning dark clouds above a pale green sea, Jinnarin flying ahead. We are not yet ready for this. Forming a bridge out, Brightwing returned to the cabin where Jinnarin lay, the Pysk covered with a sheen of sweat.
Moments later, Jinnarin bolted upright, panting, her heart hammering with dread. Temporarily she was disoriented, but then she focused on Aylis. “It was the sending,” she gasped.
“I know.”
“Why didn’t—?” Jinnarin paused, catching her breath. “Why didn’t we go?” she said at last.
“We will, Jinnarin, but just not yet. We both need a bit more practice: I, in awakening you within the dream; you in controlling a dream and in making bridges.”
Jinnarin sighed glumly. “I think I am ready now.”
Aylis spread her hands. “Next time, Jinnarin, next time we go. I promise.”
They lay in bed side by side, the Lady Mage and the Elf. She clasped his hand and brought his fingers to her lips, kissing each one separately. He looked at her and smiled a gentle smile. Of a sudden she shook her head, and looked hard at him.
“‘What is it, Aylis?” asked Aravan, concern in his eyes.
She took a deep breath and then exhaled. “Oh, love, it’s just that I’ve walked so many dreams of late that I sometimes find it hard to tell which is reality and which are but phantasms of the mind.”
Aravan nodded slowly, then said, “Once while serving as navigator on the Dragonship Wavestrider, the captain, Rald was his name, woke up with a start, his eyes wide and staring and full of puzzlement. When I asked him if aught was amiss, he told me of the dream he had had. He said, ‘I dreamed that I was a bee gathering honey. The dream was so real, so very real. I had six legs and two wings, but I had no trouble in knowing how to use them. When I had gathered all the nectar and pollen that I could carry, I flew straightly and swift, back to the hollow tree where the hive took all my gatherings from me to make honey. Darkness fell, and each of the bees went to sleep, including me. That’s when I awoke here on the Wavestrider, and then it was that I wondered if I was a Man who had dreamed he was a bee, or instead a sleeping bee dreaming of being a Man on a Dragonship.’ Rald then moved his limbs and felt along his chest as if seeking to discover another set of legs. Finding none, he looked over his shoulder, trying to see his wings. Detecting neither extra legs nor wings, he looked long at me and then broke out in laughter. It was thereafter, though, that he developed a special fondness for flowers, seeking them out at every opportunity.”