Chapter 14
Dreamsharing
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Lys felt her toes dip into the shallow waters as she touched down. Everything was pitch black all around her. The only light was herself. Her body glowed a faint yellow, like the light of the sun filtered through glass, while her markings shone with a dimmer, reddish light. Two wisps of bluish-green flame appeared in front of her, then another two behind them, and so this continued, guiding her on her way.
After some time, the new pairs of flame grew farther apart as they drew out a large circle. When the circle was completed, a shadow appeared that took the shape of a great Dragon with opalescent scales, snowy white-feathered wings and a golden mane.
"Welcome, child," the Dragon said. "I do believe you are my first guest here. I would like to offer you more in the way of hospitality, but it would seem that my company is all that I have at hand."
Lys had only done this a few times herself. Dreamsharing was an art many Ral'shee aspired to but few could truly achieve. After the first time they dreamshared, Lys' master admitted to her that he had never succeeded himself, nor had his master before him, but the teachings had been carried down from generation to generation until one with the gift could emerge. Lys imagined that she had her Elven blood to thank for it, but she could not say for certain.
She knew she could not continue to hide the truth from Corothas, but she did not fully trust Father Tristram and Sister Ysolde, so she needed a way to privately speak with him that would not draw any suspicion. She did not think Father Tristram was a mindwalker, so this seemed to her the safest way to speak to Corothas away from prying eyes and ears.
"Is this your true form?" she asked him.
"No more than that is yours," Corothas replied. "Perhaps this is how I would wish to be, unburdened by the weakness of my human half."
Ever since she was small, Lys had been taught to hide her otherness from those who would reject her for it. Of course, while she lived among the Ral'shee, the measures of her blood did not matter. To them she was Apekin regardless, so she had almost forgotten how it felt to be torn between two worlds, not that she ever had any real ties to her Elven side. What must it have been like for Corothas, she wondered.
She asked him, "Do you resent your human half?"
Corothas shook his head and said, "No. Rather, I do not understand it, hence my wandering, but this is not why you have come here."
"I know I can't hide the truth from you."
"And so I have waited for you to come and tell me yourself," Corothas said. "But there are those you would hide the truth from, such as that priest with the blood of the Old Ones."
"He took it upon himself to join us on our journey," Lys replied. "He wasn't invited. I haven't even known him a fortnight. All I know is that he's good at hiding his intentions. I don't trust him."
"But you trust me?" Corothas asked, cocking his head curiously.
"I can't explain it well, but I don't fear any treachery from you," Lys said. "I can tell Tristram wears a false face, but you don't. You are who you are. If you meant me ill, you would've acted on it by now. Someone as strong as you has no need for deception."
"It is naive of you to think that the strong have no need for deception, child," Corothas replied. "What if I were a servant of this Witch Queen? Would it not be more profitable to bring you to her whole and unharmed, all while you are under the illusion that it is your own will?"
"Maybe so," Lys admitted, "but until a few days ago, you didn't even know who the Witch Queen was."
"Perhaps I have been lying."
"I would know."
"And perhaps you overestimate your ability to see the truth and underestimate mine to hide it."
Had she any less confidence in her abilities, Lys might have been shaken by the way Corothas was testing her, but she could tell he was doing it not because he was a deceiver but because he was honest. She would not let the doubts he attempted to plant in her mind be a snare to her feet. She pressed forward.
"Either way," she said, "the Witch Queen is where I mean to go"
"In these lands, there are eight kingdoms," Corothas said, "and this Witch Queen is a creature of such power that seven of those kingdoms have fallen to her. Why is it that you wish to go to her? Surely it is not because you mean to serve her or else you would not have stretched your hand against her servants."
"The Witch Queen is not of this world," Lys said. "When she was summoned here, she took possession of someone dear to me and another one dear to me serves the Witch Queen for her sake. I mean to save them."
"And how do you intend to do that?"
"I know an art that can bind the spirit possessing Loreley, the woman who is dear to me. If I can separate the spirit of the Witch Queen from her body, Loreley will be free and Maus—the other—will no longer be bound to the Witch Queen's will."
Corothas did not appear convinced.
"Your power is but a little, child. I do not know how strong this Witch Queen is, but do you think you can stand against her?"
"I have to try."
"Why? Because those two are dear to you?"
"Yes, and because it's my father's will for me."
"Your father?"
"Tancred Half-Elven, the Court Sorcerer of Gotland."
Corothas closed his eyes.
"Your father wills it?"
"Willed it," Lys corrected.
"Are your powers greater than that of your father?"
Lys placed her hand on her chest and admitted, "No."
"And what makes you think you can succeed where he did not?"
"I've been studying the spirit arts for seven years just for this chance. I have to try."
Corothas opened his eyes again.
"Twice you have said that. 'I have to try.' You have devoted no small part of your young years in pursuit of this thing with no greater confidence than merely to try. And you are not alone in this venture. It is bad enough that you would walk to your own destruction, but you would lead this man you have claimed to be your father to the same fate."
"He may not look it, but he's Sir Burkhardt, the Knight Champion of Gotland," Lys said. "He was my father's companion and Maus' master. This means as much to him as it does to me, maybe even more."
"I can see why you conceal these things from the priest."
"There are others," Lys continued, "companions of my father, of Loreley and Maus. They're headed to Gottestag as well, not to try to save Loreley but to kill her. They think it's the only way to stop the Witch Queen. We have to get there before them."
"So you are set against not only the Witch Queen and all her might but also your own compatriots? I am impressed that you have the strength of will to come this far, but can that strength hold out until the end?"
"If you honor your vow, it'll certainly be easier."
"Yet you would go all the same even if all abandoned you."
"I don't believe my father's spirit would ever rest if I didn't."
"There are those who would call it foolishness to throw away the lives of the living for the spirits of the dead."
"Maybe so, but I'm not going to turn back now."
"I do not know if your father should be commended for having begat such a daughter or reviled for placing such a burden on her shoulders."
"I'd rather you didn't do the latter," Lys said. "I'd have you answer for it for honor's sake and I don't like my chances."
Corothas chuckled and replied, "I will leave the dead to judge the dead while I concern myself with the living. I thank you for your honesty, young Lys. My vow remains unchanged. So long as there is life within me, I will see that you face the Witch Queen. I make no promises of what doom awaits thereafter."
"It's more than I can ask for," Lys replied. "Thank you, Corothas."
Corothas nodded, then rested his head.
"You have given me much to consider, child," he said. "In all my travels, I have never encountered one such as you, but perhaps it is for the sake of such meetings that I walk the earth."
He closed his eyes as if he meant to sleep, but still he spoke.
"Will you be going now? Or would you see how Dragons dream?"
Lys looked at him and asked, "Do Dragons dream of sleeping?"
"Dreams within dreams, child," Corothas replied, not opening his eyes. "The Great Ones will sleep a hundred years at a time the way you pass the night. It is not with Dragons as it is with humans. The world does not change so quickly for them, so they need not be awake lest the world leave them behind."
"You said 'them' instead of 'us'," Lys noted.
"I am half human, after all. I am neither one nor the other, though at times the blood of one half prevails over the other."
"Right now you seem more Dragonish than human."
"Which is why I invited you to see how Dragons dream. I feel this night it is my mother's blood that will prevail."
Lys could not deny her curiosity, even though there was a danger in sharing too deeply. However, just as Corothas felt his Dragon blood prevail over his human blood, Lys could feel her curiosity prevailing over her fear of danger.
"If you'll have me, I'd love to see what you see," she said.
Corothas lazily extended a wing to her and replied, "Then come closer, child. Come and see."
Lys brought herself under the wing's shadow and drew closer to Corothas. Somewhat tentatively at first, she stretched out her hand to touch the scales of his side. Even though this was a dream, she could swear she felt the scales' hardness, like flakes of shale. There was no air to breathe, yet his massive chest would rise and fall to slow, imagined breaths.
She sat down at his side and leaned into him. The more their dream-selves touch, the closer they were knit together, until all was consumed in a blinding white light. What lay beyond, she would not recall, but whenever she would think on it, she would feel her heart grow lighter.
* * *
In the darkness, the two figures surrounded by their circle of blue-green flames paid no thought to what lurked beyond. Not so far off, another figure stood. It had the shape of a man yet with a demonic aspect. Horns sprouted from his head and wings from his back. His whole form was bathed in pinkish-purple flames with dull little tongues of fire deep within the otherwise vacant eye sockets of his skeletal face.
This figure watched the other two and thoughtfully stroked his chin.
"I would have never believed it if I had not heard her admit it herself," the figure said. "Is she really going to give me no other choice? Ah, Miss Elysabet... or should I call you Lys, daughter of the great Tancred Half-Elven?"