The Book of Dreams (5 page)

“I willed it so,” she said lightly. “The order of things is ours to play with. We can open time like a fruit and spill out its seeds. For there is ordinary time and there is the Great Time of eternity. Humanity dwells in fallen time. We live in the Dreaming.”

With regret and resignation, Dana hugged her mother good-bye.

“I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as Dana stepped through the dolmen, she was back in her bedroom on that sunny Labor Day afternoon. A pang of dread struck her.

Tomorrow she would begin her first day in high school.

N
ot long after Dana left Faerie, a young woman appeared beside Edane in a flash of light. Her skin was golden, her eyes sky-blue, and her pale hair was crowned with a wreath of red holly. Though she wore the shining raiment of Faerie, she seemed a little more solid than Edane herself.

“Your Majesty,” said Edane, greeting her with a slight bow of the head.

Though Dana’s mother was a queen in her own right and formal
courteisie
was usually reserved for the Court, this was Honor, the High Queen of all Faerie.

“Hi,” said Honor. “At ease or whatever.”

The two giggled. Honor was not long the High Queen and rarely said or did things properly. This made her very popular with her subjects.

“So, your daughter was here again? And she still won’t visit me?”

Edane shrugged. “We spend our days in revelry, then she takes her leave. Her humanity pulls her back to the Earthworld. If I mention going to the Court she always suggests some other diversion. I tried to speak of the matters you mentioned, but it was no use. I do not fathom her at times and when this happens I think to myself, ‘This must be her mortal side.’”

“Thirteen is a difficult age,” Honor observed.

Edane looked perplexed a moment, then her features cleared.

“Ah, you would know this, being once mortal yourself.”

Honor sighed. “I’m beginning to forget, but I do remember that. Puberty. What a nightmare.”

“She is happy when she is here,” Edane pointed out.

A slight frown crossed Honor’s face. “That’s what we need to talk about, dear heart. I fear Dana is using Faerie to escape reality.”

“And what better place to do it!” Edane agreed. “How fortunate she is that she may claim her inheritance.”

Honor hesitated. She would have to tread carefully. She knew that what she had to say went against the grain, the fairy perspective.

“I’m worried, Edane, that coming here so often is not good for her. It makes it hard for Dana to live in the world where she was born.”

“She is of my blood and my world too,” the other responded. “She is doubly in exile now that she lives
i n-ailithre
, in another country. She longs to return home. Both to Ireland and Faerie.”

“Life is a journey through a foreign land,” Honor said softly. Like a shining mantle, the wisdom that came with her sovereignty settled over her. “All are exiled from their true Home and ever travel towards it.”

In the sky, the fairy constellations had begun their evening dance, pirouetting across the heavens in a grand ballet.

The High Queen linked arms with Edane as they crossed a wide sea, treading the path of moonlight that bridged the water. Honor’s voice was low and musical.

“Because you are
spéirbhean
, full silver-blooded, you cannot know how these visits weaken your daughter. The High King and I are very concerned. She comes here to avoid her troubles. She is running away. And even as each act of bravery builds our store of courage, so too does each act of cowardice diminish us. It is important that Dana be strong in both worlds.”

Edane was trying to listen, but the sky distracted her. A spiral galaxy had wheeled into view like a chariot, trailing lines of stars behind it. Holding onto the reins were two of her sisters, sky-women also. As soon as they spied Edane, the sisters waved wildly.

Honor could see that Edane was only half listening. The frustrating part of dealing with the Fey Folk! Notoriously flighty, they couldn’t hold the moment, especially if it was a serious one. Only the High King could maintain any gravity for long. Edane was worse than most, not being of the earth but a Light-Bearer who fell from the sky. Totally airy-fairy.

Yet Honor had to get her message through somehow. Someone had to influence Dana, to make her see sense. Honor herself had once been a good friend to the girl, but Dana avoided her now. The one time the High Queen attempted to speak with her, Dana had turned sullen, as only a teenager can. She was obviously angry about something. The trials of growing up? The move to Canada? Somehow, somewhere, Dana had taken a wrong turn, gone down the wrong road, and it was not good, not good at all. Her time was coming and she wasn’t ready.

“All the portents are strong,” Honor said to Edane. “Soon a great blow will be struck against Faerie. Worse than any in the past. We are unable to see how or from where it will come, but we do know this. Dana is the key to our salvation. Her destiny calls.”

The more Honor tried to impress the gravity of the situation upon Dana’s mother, the more she could see the effort was hopeless.

Edane was gazing upward. Her sisters were steering their starry chariot in her direction. Now elegant arms reached down to catch her.

“I must away!” cried Edane.

Corybantic laughter filled the air. The sky-women reached for Honor too, but she smiled and shook her head. However tempting, she didn’t need a mad dash through the cosmos right now. Ruefully she watched as Edane disappeared into the folds of night, along with any hope of reaching Dana through her mother. The High Queen was running out of options.

Stepping off the moonlit path, Honor headed west across the waters of the fairy sea. She walked through the night and the next day and the next, toward the land where the sun never set. Uncertainty weighed on her mind. She could sense the threat that hung over the Realm, lurking in the shadows, unnamed and terrible. But was she doing the right thing?

As the light grew brighter, the sea grew warmer. Soft winds breathed a sweet scent like roses. On the edge of the horizon hung the great golden orb of Faerie’s sun. Honor could see the fiery plains where drakes and salamanders basked like red jewels. Solar winds ruffled her hair. Golden peaks spilled hot lava. She did not have to journey to that burning country, but the place she sought was near.

The small island floated like a lily on the waves. It was no more than a green hillock with a single tall tree. The tree appeared to be in bloom with a profusion of white flowers, but as Honor drew near she caught sight of the truth. The branches bore neither fruit nor flower, but a great flock of birds. Heads tucked under their wings, all were fast asleep, hushed and white like a fall of new snow.

The soul-birds of Faerie.

Honor knew that what she was contemplating was a huge risk. To waken the soul-birds was to waken Old Magic, an ancient and mysterious force that existed before the worlds came into being, before the great divide of good and evil. There was no telling what might happen if she woke that power. It was unpredictable. It could not be controlled. The only thing she knew for certain was that it guaranteed change.

And things
had
to change. So much was wrong and sure to get worse. All the prophecies and predictions were clear. Faerie’s doom was upon them. Dana should be the one to counter their fate, but she was too weak for the mission. Honor could see that even if her beloved husband, the High King, could not.

“The rescue of Fairyland is a mortal task,” he would assure his wife. “Since the two worlds came together, it has always been that way. Only humanity can fight our battles and they have never let us down.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” she had argued.

And that was another exasperating thing about the fairies; their absolute faith in tradition. Had no one considered the possibility that humans could fail? Then what would happen? The Earthworld would lose the source of its hopes and dreams, and Faerie would lose its very existence.

Compounding Honor’s doubts and fears was the rejection of her plea for help by her own twin sister. While Honor accepted that Laurel had the right to say no, the wound had cut deep, further convincing her that the tide was against them.

The High Queen of Faerie stood at the bottom of the tree and gazed upward. Having failed to influence events through Laurel or Dana, she was ready to act on her own. There was a faint rustling in the branches above her, as the birds sensed her presence. But though the feathery bodies quivered, they remained asleep.

Despite her determination, Honor felt a tremor in her soul. Did she dare such a thing? To tamper with Old Magic?

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she muttered.

And before she could change her mind, she raised her arms and cried out in full voice.

“
Sleepers awake!
”

Her cry had the same effect as the report of a shotgun. In an explosion of sound, the birds rose up in a frenzy. In a great white swell they banked overhead, an arabesque of sibilant flight. The sky throbbed. For one pure second of eternity, they hovered in the air, brooding over her with
ah! bright wings.
Then in a whir of wings and wind, they were gone.

Honor stared at the empty tree, the barren branches, the sky without birds. The deed was done. Only time would tell if she had helped or harmed.

D
ana regarded her new school with a cold eye. It was huge, twice the size of her last school. Everything about it filled her with dread: the prison-gray stone, the hostile glint of the tall windows, the interminable number of steps that fronted the building. The big doors stood open like a gaping maw to swallow the steady stream of youth. Judging by the noisy greetings and laughter, most were willing victims.

Slowly, reluctantly, Dana joined the crowd. Her steps were leaden. The knapsack on her back seemed weighted with rocks. She wore a loose-fitting jacket and black baggy pants that trailed over her running shoes. Her hair fell lankly over her face. A small silver ring shone in her left nostril.

“Out of the question,” was Gabriel’s decree on body piercing of any kind.

“You wear an earring,” she had pointed out hotly.

The dispute was unexpectedly settled by Aradhana. “There is a Western prejudice, husband, against piercing the nose. In India it is a fashion for girls and women to wear an ornament in this manner. I think you should allow her.”

Though she would deny it if challenged, Dana’s appearance was a silent protest against her life. The dark and bulky clothes cocooned her from the world around her. On the other side, in Faerie, she emerged like a butterfly, resplendent with fairy glamour. But the moment she returned to the Earthworld, she hid away again.

Head down, shoulders slumped, Dana shuffled through the long corridors. Lockers clanged. Friends hailed each other noisily. Squeals of excitement pierced the air. Forcing herself to stay calm, resisting the urge to flee, Dana located the classroom assigned to her on orientation day.

There were already a number of students there, most of them seated and talking quietly. Some were strangers, enrolled from other neighborhoods. With a sinking heart, Dana recognized the small group of girls who gathered near the door. Fashionably dressed, loud and pretty, they were a notorious clique from her old school. One of them raised an eyebrow as she passed by. The remarks were meant to be overhead.

“What’s with all the black?”

“Is she a Goth?”

“Hardly. That would make her interesting.”

Dana cringed, but told herself she didn’t care. These were not people she envied or admired. Janis, the leader, was popular but not very bright. She had barely managed to pass grade eight. The other two were her lackeys, incapable of independent thought or action. While they had ruled the small kingdom of junior high, they were now little fish in a much bigger pond. Dana saw through their show of bravado. They were just as nervous and anxious as she.

Moving to the back of the room, she chose a desk in the last row. In her old school she had been known as a quiet girl, a loner without the protection of a circle or best friend. She had grown used to standing by herself at recess, leaning against the fence, usually lost in daydreams. She didn’t want to mix with others and had rebuffed the few who tried to make friends with her. Unless specifically asked, she didn’t participate in class, nor did she join in school activities, sports, or clubs. She resisted all efforts by her father and teachers to encourage her out of her shell. She did not want to be part of this world; she did not want to make friends.