The meeting was still going on when I left, but I’d already decided I could be of little use at this point, and should probably catch up on my sleep while I had the chance. I was more than happy to leave Aerisia’s war leaders to their preparations as I unwound, undressed, and slipped into bed for the second time tonight.
The Dream
Light. It came so quickly.
“Oh man,” I groaned sleepily, throwing an arm across my eyes. “It can’t be morning already. Feels like I just went to bed.”
A strong breeze, warm and fresh, wafted over my body, stirring my hair. Surprisingly, the breeze was fragrant with scents I knew well: rich soil, fields of wildflowers, damp leaves, a morning rain, a mountain waterfall, a forest of pines and aspens, the mountains themselves.
“There aren’t any mountains that close,” I puzzled out loud. “So why do I smell them? I’m in a marble palace surrounded by a courtyard and high walls. I shouldn’t be smelling of this.”
But I was.
“Is this some crazy new reaction to my magic?”
Removing my arm, I raised my eyelids and sat up…in a field of tall grasses and bright, happy wildflowers. I was not in my bed. It was gone. My bed, my room at Laytrii’s palace, and even the palace itself had completely vanished.
I pushed myself up to my knees, looking around. “What’s going on here?”
That breeze again. It rolled over and around me, teasing my nostrils with the combined mixture of familiar natural fragrances, lifting hairs, and caressing my skin. My skin…
I looked down, finding myself no longer dressed in the silk nightshift I’d worn to bed, but a pair of frayed jean shorts and a skimpy red tank top.
“What the heck? These aren’t Aerisian clothes.”
They weren’t. They were Earth clothes, but not any I’d likely have worn in my former life. Besides, Earth was another place, another world, another lifetime, another Hannah ago.
“I don’t get it. What am I doing here?”
Getting to my feet, I turned in slow circles, taking everything in. I could tell from the altitude that I was high in the mountains. Cliff and crags were all around, mountains and valleys rolling into the horizon as far as the eye could see. I even stood on a wide escarpment. At its edge, the flower-studded pasture ended abruptly, tumbling into empty nothingness. It would be a very long drop to the rocky borders of the crystal-clear lake shimmering far below.
Behind me was forest. Slender aspens covered the face of another rising hillside, steep and adjacent to that on which I stood. Car-sized boulders were scattered throughout the field and trees, rugged polka dots spotting the face of the ground. I lifted my face. The blue sky stretched on forever, upheld by soaring, snowcapped peaks. White clouds obliterated the tallest from view, wreathing them in veils of fog. Higher than even the mountains could reach, the sun shone brightly. The weather was perfect.
I knew where I was. I was home. Colorado, the mountains and the sky. The forests and stones.
“I can’t believe it—I’m home! I’m home!”
In senseless delight I spun around, my arms flung out as far as they’d go, snatches and phrases of the old John Denver anthem, Rocky Mountain High, beating in my brain. I didn’t understand this miracle, but I was giddy with joy, deliriously happy with the sun on my bare shoulders and the green grass tickling my bare legs. Singing aloud, now, I spun around and around. Faster and faster. The world spun with me, singing too, and I was so incredibly happy…
Until the ground shifted under my feet. The field tipped sideways, making me lose my balance. I cried out in alarm. Fell. Then I was sliding, sliding faster and faster toward the edge of the plateau. Only the brink and empty air awaited me. A scream tore from my throat as I hurtled helplessly toward the rim, knowing there was no escape if I went over.
Somehow, my fingers managed to catch rock just as I slipped over the edge, preventing a deadly plunge. My body hung helpless, suspended in midair. The wind, playful and comforting mere seconds ago, now transformed itself into a sly monster. It tore at my fingers, seeking to pry them from the rocks to which I clung. Gritting my teeth, I hung on with all my strength. Realizing it couldn’t get me that way, it changed its mode of attack.
Rushing against my dangling body, it battered and rocked me, shifting me first from side to side, then back and forth—ruthless, hard, and fast. I screamed, but it had no mercy. In one fell swoop, a relentless blast of air, it blasted me so hard that my body swung out and up. The world spun crazily as the invisible monster carried me in a complete circle over the rock I so frantically clutched. As I swung down and around, it finally managed to rip my fingers from their grip.
I didn’t fall; the wind didn’t want that. I was its plaything, and it tossed me about, high and low, to and fro, like it would a fallen leaf. My cries for help went unnoticed as this devilish gust toyed with me. When it eventually tired of its game, it carried me in a straight rush across a little valley and directly toward the sheer, gray side of a mountain. The wind intended to hurl me into it, and I would die. There was no escaping my fate. The cliff was so close, and drawing nearer with every second.
No, I didn’t want to die! But—“Die, die, die…” the wind whispered gleefully.
Flinging out an arm, I made a gallant if vain attempt to create a buffer between that unforgiving stone and my body’s vital organs. I closed my eyes, praying for a swift end. My fingers touched stone, and…passed through.
Shockingly, the whole mountainside opened up, swallowing me alive. I hit a stone floor and rolled. Down and down I went, powerless to stop the plunging spirals. My momentum was carrying me toward a black hole, directly in the middle of the floor. I shrieked for help as I dropped helplessly into its black depths…
And found myself once more in bed. My bed. In my own room.
No, wait. It was my bed and my room, but not in Aerisia. Not in Laytrii’s palace. It was my bed and my bedroom…at home. At my home in Westman, Colorado. What was I doing here, back home on Earth?
Freeing myself from the ivory duvet, I climbed off the bed. My bare toes touched softness; I stood on a thick green carpet. The walls were white, the décor golds, creams, and ivories. A bookcase crammed with books and knickknacks stood against one wall. Framed pictures of myself and my family hung above my dresser, and music emanated from the stereo on the bedside table. My bare toes curled into the carpet, relishing its warmth.
“Mmmm….nice and cozy.”
I ran my hands over the sleeves of my flannel pajamas and hummed along with the music. The song—it reminded me of someone, someone with black, black eyes. Someone I cared for deeply. But who? I didn’t know anyone like that. Did I? I couldn’t remember, but all of a sudden it didn’t matter. I was home and I was safe. Everything was normal. My family was here, my life, and—
“My family.”
As the thought struck, I whispered the words aloud. “My family!”
If I was here, they must be too. I had to go see, had to go find them. The impression seemed important as life itself, although I couldn’t say why. It was almost as if I hadn’t seen them in a long time. Didn’t know why that was, but, heeding my instincts, I pivoted, dashing on eager feet out my door and down the long hallway. Peeking into each bedroom I passed, I checked quickly for my parents, brother, and sisters. The rooms were all empty. No matter. They must be downstairs.
I flew down the carpeted steps, heading for the first story of the house. My hand gliding over the varnished, wooden banister, I called out, “Mom? Dad? Harli Jean? Hey, where are you guys?”
There was no answer, but a light shone from the living room. Were they there? Skidding across the tiled foyer, I burst into the room, eager to greet my family…
And saw a coffin. A long, black coffin in front of the brick fireplace. Another perched under the window. Yet another had stolen the spot where the entertainment center used to stand. In all, there were five coffins scattered about the room. Not counting me, there were five people in my fa
mily…
“Oh no.”
With hesitant steps, I moved toward the coffin nearest me. A huge clock was carved right into the middle of its shiny lid, a clock whose hands were broken, hanging at odd angles. On my first attempt to grab the lid, my sweaty fingers slid right off. I tried again, managing to grasp the wood and lift, flinging it back to reveal—
I screamed, stumbled backward, bumped into the coffin behind me and screamed again. I wanted desperately to run, to flee. Every instinct cried out I should escape this terror. Yet I had to know. I had to know!
Like a maniac, I dashed about the spacious living room, flinging open every last lid of those shiny coffins, each one decorated with a clock with broken hands. To my horror, inside each coffin, on a bed of white satin, reclined the remains of a family member. While some bodies were almost totally decomposed, others were nearly intact. In each case, enough survived for me to identify the corpse: by its hair, its clothing, its shoes… A diamond wedding band on a skeletal finger—that was my mother. This was my family. And they were dead, all of them dead—except me. Five coffins, a clock on each, and six people. I was the only one left alive.
“No!”
The word was the wounded cry of a mad animal. Fast as I could, I fled that terrible room. Out of my house I ran, out of the front door and straight into the open arms of…Ilgard?
Pulling back from his embrace, I glanced up into his face. The man was Simathe, all right: I knew it by his black hair, his clothing, his hard warrior’s body. But he had no face. Where should have been pupil-less black eyes, straight black lashes, a mouth, a nose, cheekbones—was nothing. I cried out, stumbling away from the apparition, even as one of its arms rose, a bloody dagger clutched in its hand. Tripping over a loose stone, I twisted violently as I fell, doing all I could to evade that knife. I struck the ground on my stomach, and the scene changed again.
The Simathe was gone, and I was in the dining area of a nursing home. An old lady in a wheelchair held a gun pointed straight at my heart. She cackled gleefully, her finger tightening on the trigger as she wheezed, “Don’t be afraid, honey. Granny will take care of you. Good care. It’ll all be over in a second.”
The gun fired, the bullet leaping from its barrel in a flash of red-orange flame. Just as it touched the fabric of my shirt, I was gone—
The horror went on and on. I found myself standing with a horde of pirates on a wooden ship, battling for our lives against a massive sea monster carved from the ocean itself. Then I was sword fighting a woman with weird, olive green eyes. Next, I was in a graveyard, kneeling at the foot of an open grave. A figure rose from the grave, floating on mist. In its arms it cradled a tawny, headless kitten. The corpse reached for me with fingers that decomposed before my eyes. I fled…
In each scene, right before death struck or evil touched me, I vanished. I was there and then gone, transported into another place of danger and torment. My reactions grew slower, and I grew more and more weary until I could barely stumble away from whatever I faced next, let alone wonder what could possibly be happening to me. And why.
In the end, I found myself huddled in the dark corner of an empty, dark room. My head was buried in my arms and my face pressed against my knees. “If I’m very still,” I kept thinking, “maybe they won’t find me. Maybe I can hide in here. Maybe they won’t find me.”
That old saying, “You can run but you can’t hide,” beat against my brain like a carpenter’s hammer on a roof. The din was so loud I could hear nothing but it, and I trembled as I understood its truth. I’d tried running, I was now hiding, but neither defense would do me any good. They would find me. As sure as the sunrise, they’d come.
Who “they” were, I still didn’t know. I only knew I would give anything for them not to find me. They would, though. It was inevitable. When they did, I’d have to fight them. I’d have to fight and win, or else I would die.
“I don’t want to die,” I heard myself whimper. “Please leave me alone, I don’t want to die.”
They wouldn’t. I knew that when I heard the footsteps. They were coming. The darkness in which I cowered melted into a dim, ghostly glow. I could hide in the shadows no longer. They were here, upon me. The time to stand up, to be accounted for, was now.
So I stood. Pushing myself to my feet, I stood upright, facing them, each and every one. They were all there: every evil I’d encountered in this strange world of madness. The woman with olive green eyes, the corpse with the headless cat, the ugly old woman in the wheelchair, the decomposing bodies of my family, the faceless Simathe. The sea monster made from the sea, and even the evil wind were there. I’d escaped before, but they meant to have me now. To kill me. To mutilate my body, rend my flesh, and drink my blood in wild celebration.
I saw no way to defend myself, yet something inside refused to quit. Something in my soul encouraged me to stand, to fight, to acquit myself bravely and well. Even as they advanced on me, step by tortuously slow step, I looked about wildly for a weapon of some sort. There was none. Nothing I could use to defend my own life lay close at hand. My heart sank. Was this it? Was I really going to die this horrible death?
One of the creatures—the olive-green-eyed woman—suddenly snarled, leaping back as if she’d been stung. By what? There was nothing, nothing at all that I could see…
My gaze dropped to my feet. One stood upon a patch of white moonlight, the other golden sunlight. The creatures seemed afraid to approach, as if they feared the light.
Light.
The light.
Sunlight and moonlight.
I turned slowly. There was an open window in the wall behind me. No glass. Beyond it, the sun and moon hung next to each other, huddling low in the sky. Their light poured over me in equal strength, dividing my body down the middle in two even portions of color, white and gold. They were light, and light was power. With these I could defend myself, defeat those seeking my life.
Stretching up arms that trembled, I reached for them, the sun and the moon. Wonder of wonders, they came to me, floating willingly from the sky to rest in my hands. A disc of white and a disc of gold, both the size of a basketball, but weightless. Eternal.
In my hands I held light, light and power. I whirled to face my enemies. Seeing my weapons, they knew the tables had been turned. I was now the aggressor, and they the defenders. I was the huntress, they the hunted. They were about to die, were powerless to prevent it.
Pivoting, they reeled, trying to flee. I threw my weapons. First the moon, then the sun. My enemies shrieked piercing, inhuman cries. The light obliterated, engulfed, overwhelmed, destroyed them. Some burst into flames, while others dissolved from the magic and heat. A deafening explosion caused the four corners of the room to implode. I stumbled backward, casting up a hand to shield my face. The backs of my knees struck the windowsill. Losing my balance, I tumbled backward through the open window, but felt no fear as I hurtled into open space. Somehow, I knew I was going home.
Shared Visions
My body convulsed, jerking hard. The violent motion rocked me awake, snatching me from that dangerous world of dreams. I bolted upright in my bed, glancing wildly about the darkened bedroom. Salty sweat poured from my face, stinging my eyes and dripping off my chin. My eyebrows and hairline were damp with it, my silk nightgown soaked, and the linen sheets tangled about me.
Dreams can’t hurt you, I tried to reassure myself.
Cold sweat oozed from every pore, proving me a liar.
Oh, but they can. Dreams can most definitely hurt you.
At least, this kind could. Instinctively, I knew that particular vision had been no ordinary dream. It had to have meant something, but what?
I lingered in bed for a moment or two, indecision holding me captive. What should I do? Go to Ilgard? I could hardly believe such a distressing nightmare hadn’t brought him to my side. Tell Risean? He knew some magic, of course, but did Moonkind magic cover dreams? Should I keep the whole thing to myself? Of all my options, that fe
lt the least right.
What should I do? Think, Hannah. There’s gotta be something…
Then the answer hit.
Braisley. Go find Braisley. Tell her everything. She’s Aerisia’s most powerful fairy, and probably knows more about magic than all the Moonkind combined. If anyone can help you with this, it’ll be her.
Obediently, I climbed off the bed, the perspiration drenched sheets and coverlets swiftly chilling in the cool, night air. It was still black outside. I didn’t know how long I’d slept, but it couldn’t have been more than a few hours. The sun would probably rise soon. Whatever the time, I had to find Braisley. Somehow, I knew she would help me with this.
I didn’t bother to change out of my nightgown, but reached for a robe to cover it up. A woman wandering the halls at night wearing only her nightshift was surely going to be questioned. A woman wandering the halls at night in a nightgown and robe might be dismissed as having a purpose. Before heading for my door, I also paused to slip on a pair of low-heeled, backless slippers.
I was relieved to come across no one outside my room. Relieved, but surprised. Where was Ilgard? Why hadn’t he come? Where were the Simathe and Ranetron guards normally posted either outside my door, or at opposite ends of the corridor? I saw nobody but the customary palace guards as I rushed through the silent hallways, and half of them were asleep.
That’s certainly odd.
I couldn’t help thinking Lord Garett was going to have their hides in the morning if he found out about them sleeping on the job, but I didn’t have time to stop and wake them up.
Maybe it wasn’t their fault anyway. Everything was peaceful and quiet; perhaps too peaceful and quiet. It was almost like a sleeping spell from a fairy tale had fallen over the palace, draping its occupants in a warm, drowsy cocoon. Where would it have come from, though? I didn’t sense any threat or danger, so couldn’t ascribe it to the Dark Powers.
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