Chapter 9
The dream had changed.
For so many years, it had been the same. Even when Ryn was a child, she’d dreamed of the mist, the stones, the path, and of course, the cave—that towering chamber at the heart of the mountain.
In truth, it resembled a palace far more than any ordinary cave.
Supported by carved pillars of stone, the room stretched on into the distance before her, lit only by shafts of moonlight from far above and a strange glow from mineral veins that spider-webbed the floor.
Despite the glow, the stone was smooth and even underfoot—polished and bare but for the place where the king lay.
Like a bier or an altar, it rested alone at the end of the long room, on a raised platform that bore no decoration. Only the rectangular block of dark stone at its center.
And the king was always lying there—his eyes closed, his long hair spread out beneath him, his hands folded over the elaborate embroidery on his white robes.
Even in sleep, his otherworldly beauty took her breath away.
But tonight, as Ryn entered the chamber, it became immediately evident that the landscape had shifted.
The cave was the same, but now it was lit by more than the silvery radiance of the distant moon. Now there were torches on every pillar, casting an orange glow throughout the massive room and revealing far more than the blank, unadorned stone of a natural cavern.
The walls were smooth, and the stone had been painted with scene upon scene of a land unlike any she had ever seen.
There were skies filled with dragons of every imaginable color.
Seas of tossing green, where strange creatures leapt and played in the frothy waves.
Towering mountains and golden trees, unfamiliar animals in jewel colors.
And people… tall and beautiful, with hair of silver or gold, their lives stretched out across the tapestry of that stone wall like a history book brought to life.
The panels flowed one into another, and as she advanced, she saw their civilization take shape, flourish, and then fall into war.
The paintings grew bleak, with fire and death and rivers of dark crimson that bled into shadow…
And on the final panel a ship. Barely more than a ghost, with shredded sails, run aground on a rocky beach below imposing cliffs.
“What I would not give to see these with my own eyes,” Ryn whispered to herself, secure in the understanding that, while different, this was all still part of the dream.
“If not with your eyes, how do you see them now?”
Dream or not, the man’s voice surprised her. No one had ever spoken to her in this place, so she turned to see who shared her nightly meanderings.
For a moment, she didn’t recognize him. Despite the familiar clothes, the hair, and the commanding features, this man was as unlike her previous dreams as the sun is unlike the moon.
Never, through all the years she’d spent imagining what he might be like… Never had Ryn pictured the utterly overwhelming presence of the man who stood before her.
“You’re awake,” she squeaked, and the King of Mists tilted his head as she stumbled backward in shock.
“Am I?” He held up his hands and surveyed them, then looked thoughtfully at his surroundings. “I think not. I think that for these few brief moments, you have claimed a share of my dreams.”
“But this is my dream,” Ryn protested. Surely she would know if she were in someone else’s dream. And she had been dreaming of this place for so long. “It’s just that usually it’s dark. And before today, you’ve always been asleep.”
Then she felt herself blush. A strange sensation for a dream.
“Not that I was watching you sleep,” she hastened to add, though not, perhaps, in complete truthfulness.
The king did not seem distressed either way. “This cursed sleep occasionally allows me a moment of wakefulness. Not a true awakening, but an ability to sense beyond the boundaries of my own mind. A few moments of freedom from this prison I created for myself.”
A curious choice of words. A prison he created for himself?
And because it was only a dream, she did not stop to wonder whether it would be rude to ask questions. “Did you do so on purpose? Create this prison, I mean.”
The king stared down at her, his golden eyes lit from within by a power she could feel even here, in the dream world. She could not even begin to comprehend the depth and breadth of such magic.
“It has been centuries,” he said quietly. “And I still do not know the answer to that question.”
“Then Xaviel was right,” she breathed. “You don’t remember.”
Those eyes flared brightly and fixed on her with the intensity of a blade pressed straight to her heart. “You know of Xaviel? You have spoken to him? Then you’re the one…” He paused. “How did you come to be in my dream? Are you an enchanter?”
She could only shrug, pinned beneath that gaze like a bug to be studied.
“Yes, yes, probably, I don’t know, and absolutely not.
Also, I still think it’s my dream. After all, I’ve been dreaming of this place since I was eight years old.
” Somehow, it was easier to admit here what she had not been able to say to Xaviel.
“That’s the true reason I’m here. The reason I’ve spent my entire life looking for the truth.
The reason I threw away my entire fortune trying to find it.
I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I ever found the answers, the dreams might finally go away and let me live my life in peace. ”
The otherworldly king gazed at her with such a troubled expression Ryn almost felt moved to comfort him. Until she remembered that this wasn’t real. It was so easy to forget, when she knew this place so well.
“Dreaming of a place you’ve never seen…” His tone was quiet. Subdued. “It seems you have magic of the mind. A human dreamwalker. I never imagined one might exist, but then, I know so little of your kind.”
Little indeed. If Xaviel had told the truth, his people would have arrived in Abreia long before the first human refugees. So they would have next to no knowledge of human mages.
Ryn herself had not made a study of the subject, but knew the same things about magic that most Abreian children did. And she had never heard of a dreamwalker either.
Were her dreams magic? Perhaps if they were, it would make more sense of the strangeness of her life. But magic or not, they had never done her any good.
“Well, if you’re right, I’d far rather have a more powerful or useful form of magic,” she noted with a heartfelt sigh.
Something that allowed her to eat without having to waste time hunting or cooking it first. Something that could protect her without the need for hiring guards who would take her money and then betray her.
Something that would guide her to the most accurate information on a subject without months of painstaking effort.
“Dreamwalkers,” the king replied coolly, “are never to be underestimated. They travel through mysteries that others can only imagine. Have access to the deepest of truths and the darkest of secrets. See beyond the limits of ordinary sight and comprehend worlds beyond our imagining.”
“And then they wake up and still have to eat,” Ryn grumbled. “Fat lot of good mysteries and secrets are when your rent is due and your dissertation still isn’t finished.”
The king began to look slightly disconcerted. “Xaviel told me of finding you,” he admitted. “But it seems he left out a number of details about your… forthrightness.”
“He was probably just being kind,” she responded politely.
“I am Lady Camryn Halivard of Garimore.” She curtsied with elaborate formality, knowing full well she would not be so forward if any of this were real.
“Bane of my mother’s existence, despair of my brother’s dignity, and specter that haunts my professors’ darkest nightmares.
I was kicked out of my university for believing in children’s fairy tales, so as you can imagine, I’m quite pleased to discover that you are neither a fairy nor a children’s story, but a real person.
Well, the real you. Not the dream you. Though both of you are equally good-looking, of course. ”
Good heavens, had she really said that out loud?
But rather than being offended, the king’s stern face cracked into a smile of genuine amusement, though Ryn noted it held an edge of sadness. “And I am Keldreth ven Rianor. I suspect Xavi is not going to know what to make of you.”
“Ah. Yes. Well. He does seem a bit disconcerted by my oddities,” she confessed. “Also, he’s had to save me several times, and I’m sure hosting a helpless human is not his idea of high entertainment.”
Her choice of words drew a strangely sharp glance from the king.
“And what has he told you about the valley? About me? About why you are here?”
Why she was here?
“I’m here because I very rudely asked to come,” she answered frankly. “Not for any other reason.”
The king’s countenance darkened. “Then he has not yet disclosed the truth?”
“Er, what truth?”
“No one crosses the boundary of the mist, Lady Camryn,” he told her. “No one but Xaviel… and the brides.”
Wait. The brides?
“There was this one determined adventurer, but he was sent out again, believing he had stumbled into a nightmare and nothing more.”
Her father, she noted numbly, still rather distracted by that other word.
“Brides,” Ryn repeated slowly. “Plural. You mean, there has already been more than one?” This was only a dream, she reminded herself. “I thought the story speaks only of one fated bride who will end the curse. But you are suggesting…”
“Yes,” the king said, his tone hollow but unflinching.
“There have been many brides. At least one for every hundred years since I was bound to this enchanted sleep, though I know neither how long nor how many that has been. And while I did not choose this, neither can I escape it. If I do not take a mortal bride, this enchantment will fail, and the volcano will bury these lands in fire and fury, ending countless lives.”
Ryn blanched at the horror of it. What a bizarre, tragic twist for her dreaming mind to conjure. If it was her dreaming mind. She had never asked for the dream to begin with, so why had it changed now?
“When you awaken, you must speak to Xaviel,” the king said sternly. “Ask about the purpose for which you were brought here. And then you must decide for yourself whether to accept this fate.”
When she awakened…
Her dreams of the valley and the king had turned out to be real. What if this dream was also real?
“How do I know a true dream from any other?” she murmured aloud. “How can I know whether this is a warning I must heed, or a fear conjured by my own imagining? And how will I remember your words once I awaken?”
“I cannot say.” The king’s beautiful golden eyes glimmered with an emotion beyond mere sadness. “You are a human, with human magic, and the only one who has ever spoken to me in this way. It makes me wonder if perhaps…”
He began to fade before he finished the sentence. The torches grew dimmer, the murals were swallowed up by shadow, and then Ryn was alone in the darkness, with only a single shaft of moonlight illuminating the floor a few steps away.
She knew what came next. If she stepped towards the light, it would move across the floor until it led her to where the king lay. If she turned and stepped away from the light, she would awaken.
But was there any way to know for sure whether this was real? Any way to confirm the king’s suspicion about her dreams, or her guide’s true purpose in bringing her here?
Only one.
She would have to demand answers from Xaviel. Have to see this place for herself. There was no point in being angry before she knew the truth. No point being frustrated and embarrassed before she’d confirmed the absolute facts of the situation.
Armed with these comforting reminders, Ryn turned and stepped resolutely into the darkness.