“Eric! Wake up! Eric, please, wake up!”
He blinked, looking up into a pair of concerned green eyes. Kory moved back so Eric could sit up, and he realized that Beth was watching him, too. “Guys, I’m okay, it was just a bad dream.”
There was a frightened look in Beth’s eyes, something Eric rarely ever saw. “It’s the same bad dream, right?” she asked. “The same nightmare you’ve been having once a week for the past month.” She glanced at Kory, then back at him. “Want to talk about it, Eric?”
Houses collapsing down the street, Beth’s blood on his hands, the nightmare creatures closing in around him—”No, I don’t want to talk about it. C’mon, it’s not a big deal. Just a nightmare.” He managed a laugh. “I should probably stop eating lunch at that burrito place near the Park. Their food would give anybody nightmares.”
“This isn’t funny, Eric!” He recognized that look in her eyes now…it had nothing to do with fear, it was that tough-as-nails Beth Kentraine that he knew and loved. “I’ll call a doctor tomorrow. Somebody has to figure what’s going on inside your head, love.”
“Of what value is a human physician?” Kory asked. “Eric is a Bard, not a normal person. There should be nothing wrong with him that he cannot cure himself.”
“We’re talking about something wrong up here, Kory—” Beth tapped the side of her head. “Humans have special doctors for that kind of thing. Psychiatrists. And even magic isn’t good for that kind of stuff… remember Perenor? He was crazy-psycho, a real nut case. His magic didn’t help him there.”
Kory’s eyes widened in horror. “Eric isn’t like Perenor! He could never be like Perenor!”
“I didn’t mean he was like Perenor, just that it’s the same kind of thing.”
“I don’t want to talk to a shrink,” Eric protested. “Beth, it’s just a bad dream!”
“A bad dream that you’ve had for over a month!”
“Look, I’ve talked to enough shrinks in my life, okay? I don’t want to see another one, ever.”
“Eric, I love you. I don’t want you to have to go to a psych. But something’s wrong, and you have to do something about it.”
“No shrinks,” Eric repeated stubbornly.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” Beth said, matching his stubbornness.
“Beth…” Kory began hesitantly. “You say this is a human thing, but could this have something to do with Eric’s magic? Some Bards have the ability to look into the future, or to call to others from the past…“
His own eyes, staring and lifeless—”Kory. It’s only a dream. Maybe Beth’s got the right idea, maybe I’m nutso, but it’s still only a dream.”
“But Kory could be right.” Beth sat up suddenly. “Eric, have you ever used your Bardic magic to look into the future?”
“Bethie, I’ve only been a Bard for a year! Give me a break!”
She gave him a look. “Well, you could give it a try,” she said. “Take a look into next week and see if it turns out like your dream.”
Oh God, I hope not. “Okay, okay, I’ll try it, if only so you won’t sign me up at the local psycho ward. Now, I think we all could use some more sleep, right?”
He lay there in the darkness, listening to Beth’s quiet breathing, the waterbed shifting as Kory turned over onto his side.
I can’t be seeing the future, he thought. That can’t be what’s going to happen to us. San Francisco destroyed, Nightflyers everywhere, all of us dead…
I won’t let that happen.
In his mind, he thought about a particular melody, light and airy: “Southwind.” A gentle tune, one that had always reminded him of quiet pleasures and warm evenings with friends. Good memories. That was the tune he would use to look into the future.
He could hear the lilt of the melody, adding just a touch of ornamentation at the end of the B part, a little trill to wind back into the melody. He imagined the way his fingers would press on the flute keys, the exact timing of his breath.
“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered, moving carefully so he wouldn’t wake Beth or Kory. “I’ll never be able to get back to sleep tonight anyhow.”
* * *
CHAPTER 4:
A Moonlight Ramble
Once upstairs, he retrieved his flute from its stand, then moved quietly down the stairs and out into the garden. There was one place that he loved most in Kory’s garden, a small stand of birch trees that circled a grassy area in a ring.
Eric sat down under the leafy trees, which had been scrawny saplings until two months ago, when Kory had “convinced” them to grow more quickly.
As always, he had the same sense that he had felt that night, years back, in the old oak grove at the destroyed Southern Fairesite, that feeling of magic lying just beneath the surface, woven into everything around him.
Just enough moonlight shone through the night fog to reflect off the flute as he brought it to his lips. It was his favorite kind of San Francisco night, the city finally quiet and sleeping as the fog swirled through it.
Little tendrils of fog moved around the trees; he could taste the fog, thick and damp, as he breathed in the night air. And over all of it was the sense of belonging; this place was his, this was his home.
He’d never felt that before, not during his childhood or all the years of traveling. Now, in the perfect stillness, he played for himself and for the sleeping city.
He frowned at the first note he played: fiat, and very thin. He adjusted the flute accordingly, and played another note, clear and vibrant, followed by the first few notes of “Southwind.”
The tune unfolded before him, lilting notes fading into each other. He concentrated on the tune, on the coldness of the flute’s metal against his fingers, on the way his lips shaped each note. After a few moments, the world faded from around him, and he was alone with the music, playing out his soul to the birch trees that bent closer to hear him.
All right, he thought, now let’s take a look Elsewhere.
He began weaving that into the tune, the future that he wanted to see, letting the dancing notes build it out of moonlight and fog. Suddenly, it was there, shimmering before him.
Ria Liewellyn?
She stared at him, an image of mist and fog. Behind her, he could see the outline of a motel room, neon signs flickering beyond the window. Her eyes were bright with astonishment, and more than a little fear. He followed her look to the other side of the room, where he saw…himself, wearing a pair of silk pajamas and looking more than a little bewildered.
Eric was surprised, too. Too surprised to keep playing, he missed a note, then another. The image of Ria vanished instantly as he lost the thread of the melody, swirling back into the fog.
He sat back, his fingers clenched tightly around the flute. Then, hesitantly, he brought up the flute again and began to play.
This time, he didn’t blindly reach out for whatever image would appear. Note by note, he built the idea, gathering in the moonlight as a canvas. Then he sat back and looked at what he had created.
A hospital room. Seated by the window, an elderly woman in a red silk dressing gown, staring out through the darkened glass. No, not an elderly woman; a blond woman in her thirties, her face drawn and pale, motionless, giving the impression of great age. Her eyes never moving, she gazed intently through the glass—at nothing. An empty courtyard.
The blue eyes never wavered, only blinking occasionally. He could hear someone moving through the room, the sounds of someone walking closer. “Time to be in bed, Miz Llewellyn,” an older man’s voice said, and then the orderly was helping her stand, walking with her back to the bed. He tucked her under the blanket, then moved out of sight. A moment later, the click of a door closing. And the blond woman was now staring at the ceiling, her eyes never moving, the expression on her face never changing.
Eric drew back from the image, horrified. It isn’t fair! She was cruel and manipulative, but she never deserved this!
But if the other image wa
s also a Far-Seeing, then maybe eventually she‘ll be okay. Maybe eventually she’ll get past what happened to her at Griffith Park.
But if that was a True Seeing, and she does recover—
—then what in the hell am I doing in a motel room with Ria Llewellyn?
Okay, okay. Better not worry about that right now. Concentrate on what I saw in the bad dream…let’s see if you have any basis in reality, little nightmare…
The images of Ria faded back into the mists, as Eric began playing the tune again. Slowly, focusing all his concentration on the image, he called out into the night, trying to reach the future he’d seen in his dreams, over and over again. Then, suddenly, he saw it, the images spread out before him.
A desolate landscape of San Francisco, the streets dark and deserted, buildings half-collapsed, shattered. He stood at the corner of Market and Castro, near the entrance to the subway station. It was a part of the city that he’d walked through many times, especially with Kory…Korendil loved to walk through the Castro District. Kory’s cousin Arvin, the dancer, lived only a few blocks away.
Now, the streets were empty of any sign of life… not a human being, or a bird, or stray cats, or even insects. Only broken glass, and wrecked cars, and the occasional shadow flickering in the moonlight.
No, not shadows, he thought. Nightflyers. Quietly, trying not to draw any attention to himself, Eric moved down the street, past the movie theater and the bookstores, wondering what else he could find here. There was nothing, no sign of life, no clue as to why this had happened.
He stepped over the corpse of a young blond child, lying on the sidewalk, and towards a newsstand. He looked around for a newspaper, wanting to see the date printed on it, and then stopped short. He turned, very slowly, and looked back at the corpse.
Tiny shadows were flickering over it, barely visible against the boy’s pale skin. Eric reached down and lifted one of the shadows, the nearly-insubstantial creature feeling like damp tissue paper against his skin. It was tiny, not quite the size of his palm, but already he could see the distinctive billowing-cloak form of a Nightflyer.
Jesus, these things can breed!
He dropped it quickly, brushing off his hand. The shadow bounced against the concrete, then drifted back to the corpse, hovering over the dead boy’s eyes. Shivering, Eric turned away.
A Nightflyer was floating directly in front of him.
Eric brought his flute up to his lips, desperately thinking of anything he could use against the creature. He was about to launch into the first notes of “Banysh Mysfortune,” when the shadow-monster stepped back several paces. In a strange, almost courtly gesture, it bowed to him, then faded from sight. Eric stared at where the creature had stood, and blinked in astonishment.
In the next moment, he was seated in the garden again, the fog coiling around the trees beside him. Eric buried his face in his hands, trying to think.
It’s going to happen. Something is going to destroy the city, and these things are going to take over, and all of us are going to die, and my future self yelled at me for not preventing it and one of those monsters bowed to me! Dammit, none of this makes any sense!
Kory was waiting at the back door as he trudged back through the garden. “I could not sleep,” the elf said. “Your magic awakened me.”
“Sorry about that,” Eric muttered, heading towards the doorway. Kory caught his hand as he walked past. “Eric, what is wrong? Why won’t you tell us what you have dreamed?”
I can’t tell him that it’s just a dream. Not anymore. “Kory, do you believe that a mage can see the future? Not just imagine it, but really see it?”
Kory nodded. “Of course. It is a very difficult spell, but I have known several elven lords who could look into the future.”
“And if you see it, does that mean it’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Lord Terenil Kory’s voice caught slightly on the name of his former lord and mentor, killed two years ago. “Terenil said that he could see the different paths that lie ahead, that there were always several futures before him. That the future was like the wind, but something that could change without warning. He said that it was dangerous to look too often into the future, because that might make one future, the one that you perceived, more likely than the others.”
“That makes sense,” Eric said, sitting down on the porch stairs. “Kory, I—I don’t know what to do. I think I’ve seen the future, and it’s awful. Really bad. I don’t know what I can do about it.”
“Do you wish to tell me about it?”
Beth, lying dead in his arms… No, not really. Let’s just say that it’s really awful, and I sure don’t want to see it turn into reality. What can we do to change it?”
Kory gave him a troubled look. “Perhaps we should talk with someone else, another mage, to find out whether or not this was a True Seeing. We could cross over to the Faerie Court of Mist-Hold, and talk with the Queen. Or talk with some of Beth’s friends, the human witches and healers. Beth said that Elizabet and her apprentice, Kayla, would be in the city this weekend. We could skip the Faire today, call them and ask their advice.”
“That’s a better idea than calling a shrink, that’s for sure. Especially if this is magic-related.” Beth plunked herself down on the steps next to them.
“You too, huh?” Eric grimaced.
“Yeah, it’s tough to sleep when neither of you are in the waterbed. Even tougher than when you snore, Eric.”
“Thanks a lot!”
“Well, it’s four a.m., and I certainly won’t be able to go back to sleep. What do you guys want to do for a few hours until sunrise?”
They all smiled at each other.
“Hot tub!”
The three musicians walked into the cafe, musical instruments slung on straps and in hand. One of the waiters gave them a peculiar look, probably wondering why three scruffv street musicians were walking into his restaurant. Elizabet and Kayla were waiting for them, already seated at one of the window tables.
Eric slid into the seat next to Kayla. “A new pair of safety pins, kid?” he asked, looking at the pair she wore instead of earrings. They matched perfectly with her torn t-shirt, black leather jacket, and studded armbands.
The girl favored him with a wicked look. “It’s my way of getting Elizabet to buy me a new pair of earrings.”
The older healer laughed, ruffling Kayla’s short brown punked-out hair. “This girl is a never-ending source of joy to me. I’m very glad you crossed my path that night, child.” She looked at Kory, Beth, and Eric. “Perhaps you would want to order breakfast? Everything at this cafe is quite good. We’ve been eating here every morning during the conference.”
“How’s the conference going?” Beth asked.
“Reasonably well. Any time you gather more than a hundred Wiccans together into one building, there will undoubtedly be chaos. But I believe we are accomplishing something. Just yesterday, we worked on a formal contract of apprenticeship, so that the other witches won’t necessarily have to adopt their students, as I have with Kayla.”
A waiter took their order, then hurried away. Beth waited until he was out of earshot, then leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “Liz, I mentioned this over the phone…we’re here because of a problem. Eric has been having a lot of nightmares lately.”
Elizabet stirred her coffee. “Both Kayla and I are experienced at healing traumas and emotional problems, though Kayla’s turning out to be better at that than I am. She’s done very well with Ria Llewellyn in these last few months.”
“How is Ria?” Eric asked neutrally.
“Some days, she’s better than others,” Kayla replied. “Sometimes she’s almost lucid. A few weeks ago, she gave me this.” She lifted a small amulet from where it rested on her t-shirt, tugging the necklace over her head and handing it to Eric.
He looked at it closely, wondering where he had seen something like this before. It was a small circle carved out of some ki
nd of translucent rock, maybe a geode, with the outline of a shadowy mountain drawn out of the colors of the rock.
“I’m not certain what it is, but it’s unusual,” Eric said. “It might be magical, I can’t tell.”
Kory leaned over to look at it, puzzled. “It looks like one of the mountains in the Faerie Realm,” he said thoughtfully. “One of the distant mountains, near the edge of the Lands Underhill.”
Eric handed it back to Kayla. “It’s probably harmless, but I’d be careful with it, anyhow. Why did Ria give it to you?”
“I don’t know. She was nearly catatonic for days afterwards, and then couldn’t remember it when I asked her about it. Sometimes I feel like she’ll never get better…“
“You’re doing fine, child.” Elizabet smiled reassuringly at her protégée. “Some healings just take longer than others,” She glanced at Eric. “Tell us more about these nightmares, Eric. Are they all the same dream?”
He nodded. “Mostly the same. They’re mostly about earthquakes.” And Nightflyers, those shadow-demons that I summoned accidentally several years ago. First at that concert, and then at Ria’s, and now in my dreams…why do those damn things keep turning up in my life? It’s like I have some weird affinity for them, somehow.
The Nightflyer, bowing to him…
“And last night, after we talked about how this could be a precognitive dream, I tried to look into the future. And I saw the same thing as in my dreams, except this time I was awake.” He stared down into his cup of coffee. I’m afraid that I might be seeing the real future, that this is what’s going to happen to us.”
“What can we do about this?” Kory asked. “If this is a true future that Eric is seeing, we will want to do everything we can to prevent it from becoming reality.”
Elizabet thought about it for a minute. “Kayla’s very sensitive. If Eric looked into the future again, while she was near him, she might be able to determine if this is a fantasy that Eric is creating in his own mind, or something real.”
Summoned to Tourney Page 6
