To Dream of White & Gold (Death Dreamer Legacy Book 1)

by R. K. Hart

  ‘Gods,’ Ava said again. ‘Lorcan is right.’

  ‘About what?’

  Without answering, Ava stepped forward and grabbed Lida’s hand. ‘Take us out, soer,’ she ordered. ‘Now. Think of your mindshield.’

  Lida obeyed, closing her eyes to visualise the gold links, and her stomach flipped as they moved sideways and upwards all at once, out of the memory and back to her sandstone staircase.

  ‘Stop!’ Ava cried.

  Lida looked up to see the encasing wall of her mindshield.

  ‘Stop thinking of it as a wall, Lida. You are unconsciously reinforcing it with illae every time you do so. Can you see how it glows?’ She pointed, and Lida nodded. ‘No wonder I could not get through. You only want to channel power to it when you need your thoughts to be private, or when you’re shielding against someone using their gift. Thinking of it as a wall, or as chainmail, is keeping it inaccessible. If you wish to be able to control it, you need to see it as something else.’ She paused. ‘Water. Can you imagine it as water?’

  Lida concentrated, trying to see the barrier as a glowing sheen of water. For a while, nothing happened; she tried harder, and was rewarded with a slight glimmering ripple that moved across it like a wave.

  ‘That’s it,’ Ava whispered. She shook her head. ‘Too tired,’ she muttered. ‘I have to go. Lida, when you wake in the morning, keep practising.’

  Lida blinked, and Ava was gone.

  She coughed and sat up. She had fallen asleep at the windowsill, her head pillowed on her arms, curtains open to the night, and she was cold and stiff. She pulled the curtains closed and crawled into her bed, exhausted, wanting nothing more than to be in her green rock pool again.

  Instead, she fell once more into the Erbidan grassland. The dream was so tangible that she shivered against the cold wind and her cheeks stung as her hair whipped around her face. She caught it and tied it back with difficulty, using a ribbon she found on her wrist.

  The landscape was beautiful, if unsettling. It was very different to the lush greenness of southern Eilan, with the gentle winters and bountiful summers Lida was used to. This was wilder, rolling and untamed with an almost feral edge that wasn’t quite hidden by the carpet of grain crops.

  She walked the short distance to the hut she and Ava had seen. It was built with the grey stone from the cliffs she had seen in other dreams, and had a handsomely carved door of gnarled driftwood. She pulled it open slowly, calling out in case there was someone inside, and then felt absurd for doing so.

  The hut was empty of people but filled with furniture; it was clearly somebody’s home. The bed in the corner was rumpled, and embers glowed in the fireplace, heating the one open room to a warm cosiness despite the chill in the air outside. The wooden floor was lined with a large, thick rug, dyed a luscious forest-green, and the wall behind the bed was hung with a tapestry showing an ocean scene, with an old-fashioned single-sailed boat cresting a wave, sailed by a god-like figure wearing the helmet and breastplate of an Erbidan swordshield. He held his blade aloft, as if he would battle the sea itself.

  ‘Alida?’

  She jumped and turned to see Lorcan frowning at her from the doorway. For a few long moments, they stared at one another. He looked very real, Lida thought, far more real than he should. She returned his frown as she studied him. He seemed shorter than she remembered, his skin a less burnished shade of gold; the smattering of freckles across his nose were stark. In waking life, his face was all even planes and angles that took Jakob’s handsomeness and pushed it into something achingly close to beauty, and he carried himself as if he knew it, with a surety that skirted arrogance. Here, his features were less refined, and he stood awkwardly, like a child after a growth spurt, as if he was still getting used to the new length of arm and leg. Lida chewed on the inside of her cheek as she considered the differences; the only thing unchanged was the unruly mop of waving black curls.

  He raised an eyebrow. Realising how long she’d been staring, Lida tried to will herself awake. Nothing happened. She opened her mouth and quickly closed it again, not quite sure what to say.

  ‘How did you get in here?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘The door,’ she said lamely, gesturing. ‘What is this place?’

  His jaw tightened. ‘It is home,’ he said. ‘I mean, not home: that is two miles north-west, overlooking Kell Port. This is … M y uncle lived here, when I was growing up. He helped my mother manage the estate and ran the house when she was away. He used to let me follow him as he worked, and he would bring me back here for lunch and cups of tea. He taught me how to play chess and how to shoot with a bow and he used to read me the old stories in Erbidan.’ He went quiet, looking out the window. ‘He … died … just after I left for the Illarum. I come here often.’

  He turned his dark eyes back to Lida and crossed his arms. She squirmed.

  ‘I come here in my sleep,’ he added pointedly.

  Lida looked around, uncomfortable. There was a row of toy animals carved from driftwood on the mantelpiece. ‘I like it.’

  ‘Lida,’ he said sharply, taking a step forward, ‘are you here? Or am I dreaming you?’

  Lida was silent as she thought it through. It was quite difficult to get the words out, but she felt that they were true, and so she forced herself to speak.

  ‘I think that I am here.’

  Lorcan’s face was unreadable; he gave a curt nod. ‘Well then,’ he said smoothly, and tilted his head to the side. ‘Would you like to see Kell?’

  He led her back outside and across the windy grassland until the ground turned to shale and fell away in a series of rugged grey cliffs. It was close to where Lida had been last time: she could see the tiny port, crowded now with moored boats, overlooked by the pretty village and the sandstone mansion, which she was starting to suspect might be the home Lorcan had mentioned.

  ‘On a clear day you can look south and see the Gulf of Fire,’ he said, shading his eyes with one hand and staring out at what Lida’s lessons told her was the Kelti Sea, an ocean she’d never laid eyes on. ‘There are often whales, too. Jakob and I spent a lot of time up here, waiting to see them.’

  Lida smiled, imagining two dark-haired boys lying in the grass, their eyes on the horizon.

  ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I need to find something.’

  He walked away without waiting to see if she followed; Lida rolled her eyes and trailed after him. They skirted the cliffs in silence for some way, until he led her down a steep incline towards the sandstone building. Lida stumbled on some loose shale, swearing, and he held out his arm in an offer to steady her. She ignored it, and then ignored the way his lips turned up at the corners, mocking.

  The mansion was nothing like the sprawling Illarum, but still far larger than Lida’s own home. It was warm and welcoming with handsome arched windows and a red-tiled roof. The grounds around it were carefully cultivated, with clipped grass and shaped hedges, incongruous against the wild grassland. It would have been more in place amidst the rolling hills of southern Eilan.

  ‘It was built by my grandmother,’ Lorcan offered, answering the thought. ‘She modelled it after houses she had seen in Kingstown and imported the stone from Port Royal.’ He walked to the redwood front door and pushed it open.

  Lida stopped. ‘Lorcan,’ she said anxiously, ‘there’s no one else here, is there? I’m not intruding?’

  He frowned at her for a moment, and then gave a wild smile. ‘It is a little late to be asking that, do you not think?’ he said. ‘Unless I am running mad - which, all things considered, is a distinct possibility - you are here, in my dream, and that is extremely intrusive.’

  Lida tried to step back, to go to the garden, but he caught her hand, grasping it tightly. ‘Come, Lida,’ he said, and pulled her inside, leaving the door wide open behind them.

  The house was richly furnished, with Brinnican weavings on the walls and rugs from Seti covering the polished redwood floors. Light streamed in from the windows, framed
by heavy curtains of a deep navy blue. Lorcan led her down the wide entrance hall and took a sharp left into a library. Lida took in the walls lined with full shelves, the handsome matching writing desks, and the high-backed couches in rich maroons and greens and gave a silent, wistful sigh. Unlike the sumptuous bedroom on the third floor of the Illarum, which had repelled her with its elegant coldness, everything in the library was practical as well as beautiful. The couches were slightly worn with age, as if the family spent many hours upon them; one of the writing desks bore tiny, rough carvings of animals on its legs, perhaps the markings of a bored child, having snuck away from their tutors and spending their lesson with a knife in hand instead.

  ‘This is not what I expected,’ Lida said.

  ‘And what did you expect?’

  She gestured with her free hand to one of the wall hangings in the hallway outside, showing a battle scene between helmeted Erbidan swordshields and fair-haired Brinnican warriors. ‘More spears, I suppose.’

  He let go of her fingers. ‘The javelins are in the armoury, Lida, where they should be. We are not savages.’ He turned to a wall of books, considering the spines. ‘I just need to remember …’

  He strode across the room, and while he browsed the shelves, occasionally muttering to himself, Lida went to look out of one of the windows. The view was of the port. Something about it bothered her, until she realised that it was oddly static: in the way of dreams, some things were crafted in great detail, and others were less real. The boats lining the jetty were stationary in a way she knew they would never be in waking life. There was no human activity and they sat still on the sea, unaffected by the current. Some had rigging and complex sails; others were mere smudges of colour floating on water.

  ‘Yes!’ Lorcan hissed triumphantly from behind her. ‘I found it. Can you help me remember this? I will need to see if Tiernan has it. The Reign and Terror of King August.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Lida said doubtfully; something had caught her eye.

  Although it was day in the dream, a white light was gathering on the horizon, stealing over the sea, overwhelming and consuming everything that it touched. ‘Lorcan? What is that?’

  He came up beside her and looked out across his dreamscape. ‘It is morning,’ he murmured, his face glowing as the light crept closer.

  A feeling akin to panic grew in Lida’s chest, stealing up her throat, threatening to suffocate her. Instinctively, she threw herself backwards.

  She found herself in an expanse of white that stretched as far as she could see. Beneath her feet was a mess of golden lines. Her stomach was roiling. She spun, badly wanting to wake; she threw herself forwards, closing her eyes.

  When she opened them again, she was back in the Illarum, but not safe in her bed where she wanted to be. The third-floor bathroom she had mistakenly opened before her first lesson was not empty this time. One of the tubs was full, and steam billowed through the room. She stepped forward.

  There was a deep, throaty laugh and a splash; Lida frowned and waved her hand. The vapour dissipated, but she immediately wished she could call it back.

  Katrin arched her back as she moved, her pale red hair fanning out where it touched the water. She was smiling, her eyes closed, a deep flush flowering over her pale cheeks, her breath coming in small gasps.

  The man beneath her lifted his mouth from her neck and said something, too low for Lida to hear, trailing his fingers across her collarbone. When Lida realised who it was, she drew in a sharp breath; like a hawk, he looked straight up and locked his steely grey eyes on hers. In a moment, she threw herself from the dream, finally waking properly.

  She flung back her blankets, uncomfortably warm, and staggered to the bathroom to splash her face with cold water. She’d forgotten to close her curtains, and it was well past dawn. When she straightened, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

  The girl staring back was bleary-eyed and wan, her head haloed in fuzz. She looked as if she needed a long nap, and a brush. Lida looked down at her hand, resting on the basin, then balled her fingers into a fist and lifted her chin.

  She watched in the mirror as her cheeks flushed, and she wondered how, after seeing what she had just seen, she could ever face Tiernan in his teaching room again.

  Chapter Nine: Dreamer

  Mikal came to find Lida a week later. She sat cross-legged on the grass next to the herb bed Ava was planting, sweating as she tried to make her shield do anything more than ripple prettily. Her mind was only half on the task; she was distracted and frustrated, dwelling on her lack of progress, and he could feel her determinedly ignoring the lure of the sea.

  ‘Take a break,’ he said, and held out a hand. ‘Vien.’

  The Illarum was a mash of cultures, but Brinnicans were by far the majority. They were followed - a long way behind - by Erbidans, then Setiians, then Eilins, then Auterans, of whom there were but three. It meant that the language Lida was most likely to hear through the day was not one she understood more than a few words of, but Mikal was trying to remedy that, adding a handful of Brinnican terms to their conversation every time he spoke to her. Ava had never bothered to learn Brinnican as she was able to discern meaning from people’s thoughts, regardless of the language they dressed them up in. Mikal was subtly using Lida as an excuse to teach Ava, too, with less successful results.

  He knew that Lida was still adjusting. The other Eilins had arrived at the Illarum as children and had been there so long that they did not even notice the un-Eilinness of the place; she had arrived on the cusp of adulthood and was more set in her ways. Many things were strange to her; she was on the outside, and despite her protestations about being stared at and taken for one of the Myrae, Mikal imagined that being properly on the outside was not something to which she was accustomed.

  He steered her gently through one of the Illarum’s side doors and into the healing quarter. Their boots thumped on the wooden floor as they walked.

  ‘Five minutes,’ he said, before propelling her into a sickroom that smelled of pine and honey and basil.

  Jakob sat in the crisp white bed, propped up with pillows, his face stretched tight, skin taut over his cheekbones. Mikal’s chest wrenched, as it did every time he saw Jakob looking like that. The Jakob he knew was a warrior, a swordshield and a strategist, strong and beautiful and bowed only by the weight of his unwanted birthright; this Jakob needed help to hold his cup of coffee.

  The lips were the same, though, and Mikal kissed them often to remind himself. ‘Five minutes, m’amor,’ he murmured against them, before he straightened.

  Jakob gave a slight smile. ‘Five minutes. Of course.’

  Mikal shot him a stern look and left them to it.

  For a few long moments, Lida did nothing but run her eyes over the lines of Jakob’s face, taking in how sharp the bones looked, how tired the dark eyes. He was nothing more than skin over a skeleton; the muscle he had previously worn was gone. His hair was dull, and she wondered that he had the energy to sit upright.

  ‘Mikal likes you,’ he said eventually.

  She smiled. ‘I like Mikal.’

  ‘He does not usually like Eilins.’

  Lida raised an eyebrow; she’d caught enough jokes and disparaging remarks to understand what the northerners thought of her country. ‘I do not usually like Brinnicans.’

  His eyes lingered on her arm, and he gently touched the bandaging. ‘Was it very bad?’

  ‘For me? No. Something hit my shoulder. I was a little tired. But you …’ She twisted her lips and gestured at him, bones held upright by bedding. ‘I never would have agreed if I’d known this would happen. I’m so sorry, Jakob.’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ he protested hoarsely. ‘It should be me apologising.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I did not realise that the cost would be so high. I have never taken two, you see. And your father … Gods, I did not think. I did not think, and I am sorry, Lida.’

  She nodded, blinking rapidly a
nd clearing her throat. ‘It’s all right. Tiernan said that you will be the one to teach me when you recover, and I think that will be payment enough. It seems I am not a very good student.’

  Jakob grinned weakly. ‘If I can manage Tomas, I can manage anyone. He is surprisingly argumentative, for one so quiet.’

  Lida bit the inside of her cheek and looked down at the floor. ‘I know you were in a hurry,’ she said softly, ‘but why did you do it, Jakob?’

  He took her good hand in his, his dark eyes very serious. ‘I cannot tell you now. But when I can, I promise that I will.’

  Lida felt a tear run down her cheek as she studied his thin face. She wiped it away on her shoulder and nodded; she believed him.

  Sweat started to bead on his forehead and Mikal must have known, for he hurried into the room a bare moment later to shoo Lida out. ‘Tiernan called,’ he said. ‘They’re waiting for you.’

  Lida sighed and started walking towards the central staircase.

  ***

  It took her far longer than it should have to get there. She was deliberately slow, for she had not seen Tiernan since she had interrupted his dream, and she did not think she could look him in the eye. She regretted her pace as soon as she reached the training room door, as she’d given herself long moments to think and she imagined her face would not be its usual colour; her cheeks were certainly far warmer than normal.

  ‘My shield is a wall,’ she muttered to herself, before pushing the door open.

  She was glad that she had; Marlyn and Tomas were absent, and Katrin sat with Tiernan, Lorcan straight-backed next to them.

  Lida swallowed a hysterical giggle and folded clumsily to join them. Both Lorcan and Tiernan’s faces were characteristically impassive, but Katrin gave her a slight smile in greeting. Lida could smell the scent she wore, but could not identify the flower; it was something rich and full, quite different to Maya’s summery perfume full of light and sun.

  ‘We have had a letter from Rikard,’ Katrin said, without preamble. ‘Your father told him some about Siva, but not much. He does not know her mother’s name, nor where she grew up, but Cathan Valson did say he had met her in Brinnica.’