Page 56 of Silverbow
Colm Bellami was not born a Dreamwalker. He did not possess a godsung gift that gave him access to the World of Dreams, but with Nimala’s gift, he had learned to build a door. Somewhere between awake and asleep, he spun out a silvery cord of spirit. The doorway appeared in his mind’s eye and some intangible part of him stepped through.
He stood in their campsite in the World of Dreams. Around him, watery, diffuse light cast the landscape of Berdea Plain in a perpetual twilight. The reflection looked much the same as his own world, but slightly duller, as if some of the color had been sapped. Time and distance were different here, and with half a thought, he took a step and leapt.
The little estate that sat on the edge of Greenridge Forest had changed in the weeks since he’d seen it. The yard was devoid of life, as was normal in the World of Dreams, but it was the solid things that were all wrong. The iron gate hung askance as if battered by a ram. Where an old farmhouse once stood was only a pile of charred timbers. Frowning, Colm leapt again.
Valdosonos was the one place in the World of Dreams that was not a reflection of the waking world. The waking world could not contain the fabric of the in between, fabric that rippled around him here in ribbons of brilliant, ever shifting auroras. He was careful not to touch those ribbons of light that filled the valley. To touch one was to be pulled into the dreams of men in the waking world, where the things not solid enough to appear in the World of Dreams danced and flitted. It was why he’d come, but he didn’t have time to waste being pulled into just any dream. There was one in particular he sought.
From where he stood, he could pick out the dreams that belonged to people he knew. Like familiar faces in a crowd, those auroras beckoned to him in their brilliance. Finding the dreams of those he didn’t know was more difficult. He closed his eyes and willed himself to be carried to what he sought. In a single step, he leapt to the other side of the valley.
Distance in Valdosonos was of even less consequence then in the rest of the World of Dreams. Where out there, places stayed where they were in the waking world, here, a leap like that could mean the dreamer he sought was just up the street or on the other side of the Saulet Sea. But he peered closely at the ribbonbefore him. With one finger, he reached out and touched the brilliant blue. The aurora pulsed and swirled around him, drawing him in.
In the next blink, he was no longer in Valdosonos. He was in a place where thousands of stars dazzled overhead and a faint breeze whispered through the tall grasses around him. Mountain peaks rose up all around and smaller peaks of tents dotted the meadow in a neat little camp. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied.
A girl and a boy lay on a blanket, tracing out constellations with their fingers.
“Do you ever think dragons get lonely?” The boy asked.
“No,” the girl answered.
“Why not?”
The girl he sought was in this dream, but it wasn’therdream, so Colm opened a door before they could see him and stepped back to Valdosonos.
He formed an image in his mind and leapt again. This ribbon was different. Its brilliant orange was more substantial. He reached out a hand and touched it. The aurora swirled and Colm stood in a dark hay loft, peering out from the shadows. The sound of merrymaking drifted from somewhere outside.
“Shh!” The boy said, sloshing wine into a tin cup.
“Did you steal that from the cellar?” She giggled.
“‘Course I did.”
This wasn’t the dream he sought, so he opened a door and stepped back to Valdosonos. Colm frowned. Usually with an image and name, the jump came easily enough. He closed his eyes and formed the image of Enya Ryerson again, but this time, as he held onto her face, his mind whisperedEnya Silverbow.
He leapt.
The aurora before him was one of brilliant green and silver. He didn’t know how or why, but it felt right. Colm reached out and slipped into the dream.
He stumbled on his feet. The world she held in her mind was distorted and ever-shifting as was sometimes common in poor quality dreams. He would have to be fast. It would dissolve at any moment.
Enya Ryerson lay on the forest floor, staring blankly up at the sky. Colm went to her, shifting across the space to squat on his heels.
“Where are you?” He asked.
The girl blinked glassy eyes at him.
Blast it. It’s a fever dream.
“Where are you?” He asked again.
“I don’t know,” she rasped.
He gazed around at the trees.
“Do you see it?” She croaked.
“See what?”
She turned her face back to the sky and Colm looked up. He was so startled, he instinctively ripped open his door to the waking world and leapt through. What happened to a soul snared in another’s dream sometimes followed the walker back into the waking world.
