Back to the Dream

by Felicitas Ivey

  I was keeping a close eye on McGann, even if the men hadn't started giving her shit yet. Wolf's claim that they were married made them hold off a bit, even if she was dressed like a man. Hell, we were all dressed alike in black T-shirts and cargo pants with steel-toed boots, so they might have thought it was just our way. Wolf didn't treat McGann with anything other than respect, even if they were sharing a bed. Hell, I'd thought he'd been half in love with her for years, so this might have been a dream come true for him. Anyway, unlike me, he didn't have a reputation of thinking with his dick, so that probably was why McGann wasn't freaking out about the sleeping arrangements.

  Most of the guys here were crazy, it seemed to me. They drank hard and played harder, from what little I'd seen, and I wondered what the fuck anyone was doing here in this crazy world more than once. We had managed to land on the far side of nowhere, in a place that seemed to be filled with backwoods biker types. This might be worse than dealing with the shit that went down at Tamazusa's place. Hell, I was even thinking longingly of her hot tub. These people didn't seem to have any sort of running water, and bathing was a challenge. I didn't look forward to trying to clean up tomorrow. At least it wasn't tropical. A bit cool more than anything, like early spring in Boston.

  But even I picked up on the fact that they were short of women here, and McGann was a hottie. It didn't help that the women here weren't that good-looking, being mostly big women. Not fat, but muscular, and they didn't have the advantages of hitting the salon or a spa to make them look nice and pampered. The women here didn't stop working for a minute, and McGann had been dragged into doing some of their work, too, guest or not.

  Wolf and McGann retired to their bunk the second night we were here, and I hung around with the rest of the single men, drinking and trying to get some info from them. The Vikings all had a few words of English, and I was getting the impression from them it was a trade language—barely—for them. They dealt with the guys who were on the islands east and north of them, and that was all. I liked these guys, for the most part, but I also knew they weren't the allies the Trustees were looking for. Finding those was going to be a bitch if the whole place was like this.

  Shit. I just wondered how we ended up here. Like, how did the hoodoo send us places in the Dreamlands, considering we ended up a couple hundred or so miles north of Nippon?. Did the place move around, or was it something else? We weren't in the same spot we used last time to make a gate, since that was buried under a shit ton of cement and other things, so did that matter? Why did I care? It wasn't like this was a bad place. From what McGann had told me, we were about four hundred miles or so north of Nippon. That mattered in a world that had piss-poor roads and even worse ships. Then there was the fact that we were supposed to be in Mayan territory. I didn't remember where that was and frankly didn't care. I had thought this was a stupid idea to begin with.

  Logan was just watching all this, and I thought that guy was a bit shell-shocked. Keeping his nose clean, though, even if he was taking all sorts of mental notes about this place. The guy was an egghead before he was a fighter, and I didn't know if that was a good thing or not. I didn't have the heart to tell him again that he wasn't going to be able to tell anyone about this. Maybe the other eggheads, but not all of them wanted to hear about stuff like this.

  "There will be a lot of drift on the beach in the morning,” Tholf said.

  I shrugged. “Sounds like a bitch out there."

  Egil laughed. “The serpent is out tonight."

  The others looked uneasy after that, but they kept on drinking. Egil was a mean motherfucker most of the time, but also a poet, from what the others told me. He looked a little off to me, but shit, that didn't mean anything here. Tholf was just big and dumb. Hell, that was probably just an act, and I wasn't going to fall for it.

  "I take it that's a bad thing?” I asked.

  They all looked at me strange, and I shrugged. “Not something that I know a lot about."

  "The serpent is the Midgard Serpent, which circles the world. That he's acting the way he is now shows there is much magic in the air tonight,” Tholf said.

  "Is magic bad?” I asked. I was thinking of whether or not Tamazusa's trick to getting into Boylston Street was magic. I knew the Jell-O trick probably was. I really didn't think it was a bad thing that she had done it to Heiseg, that bastard who had raped Keno and opened the Gate to the Dreamlands that had let the monsters—and maybe Tamazusa—into Boylston, starting this whole fuckin’ mess. I wondered briefly how Keno was doing tonight and what Samojirou was doing with him. Taking him out or having a quiet night at home? I knew Keno was happier here; I just had to convince Wolf of that before it ate him up.

  "Depends on the magic,” Egil told me, looking at me like I was a really dumb fuck, from the sneer on his face. I was pissed, but I was also under orders not to start trouble, and that meant not trying to wipe that sneer off the man's face the old-fashioned way. My luck, he'd beat the shit out of me easily.

  "There's a couple of different kinds of Norse magic,” Logan told me quietly. “And that's all I can really say. You want to know about Mayan hieroglyphs and social organization, I'm your man. Norse customs, that course was a long time ago. Wolf's probably the expert here, not me."

  "You know more than I do,” I grunted, taking a swig of beer. The stuff wasn't bad, closer to the designer brews than the thin crap that was American beer. That was about all they drank, too, nothing hard like vodka or whiskey. They just all drank a lot of it. They should have been drunk off their asses most of the time, but they seemed to have better tolerance for the stuff than a Southie guy on St. Pattie's Day.

  "The serpent is Loki's son, and he's a trickster like his father,” Egil continued. “I wonder what the storm will bring to us."

  I really didn't know what to say about that. I didn't know what the fuck they were talking about. Logan looked like he wanted to give me a lecture about who's who in Viking mythology, not that I cared about it. I shook my head, and he got the message, but that probably just delayed me getting the lecture. We spent the rest of the night swilling beer and listening to the storm and the guys’ gossip. I just couldn't shake the feeling that something really bad was happening out there.

  * * * *

  The next morning, I went to help gather driftwood. I noticed there was a shitload of it, and most of it seemed to be some sort of finished wood. I figured I was looking at the remains of a ship that had gotten wrecked in last night's storm. It was wood, though, and that wasn't something that was too plentiful here. I didn't want to know what they were burning in some of the cooking fires, but it didn't smell like wood.

  Wolf was helping down at the other end of the beach, and McGann was stuck inside with the women, learning to cook over an open fire and other fun stuff like that. We spent the morning hauling shit up to the longhouse. I was working on a mess of sail and wood when Wolf came running down the beach, frantic.

  "Mas... Mas!” he shouted. “I need help!"

  I dropped what I was working on and ran to meet him. “What's wrong?"

  "Follow me,” he shouted. I did and was shocked at what he had found.

  Wolf had been working on another pile of wood when he was surprised to find a couple of injured people in the wreckage. He really hadn't expected them to be Keno and Tamazusa.

  They were cold and barely breathing, and Wolf had run to get me for help. Logan came over and just took charge, not that Wolf was being an idiot, but because this was something Logan knew about. I thought he was happy to be useful.

  "Hypothermia,” Logan said. “The open water around here is like ice. No injuries, surprising, considering the boat's in pieces. We got to get them out of those clothes, into bed with someone to warm them up. They're both lucky that they're alive."

  I grunted and lifted up Tamazusa, while Wolf picked up Keno and ran to the longhouse. I was surprised by how small Tamazusa seemed as I jogged after him. I figured she would be pissed if she woke up naked with so
meone, and then she would turn my insides into Jell-O. I wasn't going to let that happen to anyone. Besides, in my line of work, there were worse ways to die than being killed by a hot chick.

  * * * *

  Tamazusa

  I woke up naked and aching, in the arms of a man. Not something I had ever wanted to do again. I stiffened and was confused when a soft voice murmured assurances of safety to me, while my back was stroked. I didn't recognize the voice, even if I recognized the language. It was English, but with an accent I didn't know. I lay still, plotting what I was going to do and waiting for whatever outrage he was going to inflict upon me. The place smelled of smoke, bad food, and too many people. There were coarse blankets around me, heavy and warm. Where had I ended up?

  I was powerless, and as far as I knew, alone. I tensed up, thinking of the half dozen Reaver guards I'd had with me, along with Keno. They had not survived the storm, I knew that. I wasn't sure Keno had.

  My unwelcome companion murmured something soothing again and patted my back, and I forced myself to relax. I wanted to appear as harmless as possible until I knew what had happened to Keno and where I was. Was I this man's prisoner? A guest? The voice sounded familiar, but I wasn't going to show him I was awake by opening my eyes to find out who it was. I would pretend to be asleep and see what I could gather for information.

  "How is she?” another man asked.

  "Warm, finally,” my bedmate replied. “She's been drifting in and out of it."

  "McGann says that she's dangerous,” the other man continued. “That she's a powerful Nipponese lord that you met before, Mason."

  "Kickass,” Mason replied. “Tough as nails and has a bigger set of balls than McGann, Logan. Be nice to her."

  I shifted, shocked when I heard the name, and he winced, then moved me again. “Ball buster, too, which she just demonstrated by squishing mine. She's in charge of some place in Nippon. Have McGann tell you about it."

  "The other one's okay too,” Logan said. “He's going to be asleep for a while, though."

  "Good,” Mason said, “I was worried about Keno. He's a good kid. Don't give him any shit."

  I heard Logan move off, and Mason stroked my back, gently telling me, “I know that you're awake."

  I looked up at him, knowing that fooling him wasn't an option. “And what are you going to do?” I hated the fact that I sounded weak, almost frightened.

  "Well, you're warmer now but still shivering a bit. All I was planning to do was keep you warm. You're a sexy mama, but I also know you can turn me into Jell-O. I remember that trick you pulled with Heiseg. And thank you for doing that to the fucker, for what he did to Keno."

  I stared up at him, confused. Mason had been a buffoon when he had stayed with me when the Trust had blundered into the Dreamlands for the first time. From what I had been told by Fuse, that was a mask for a man who cared deeply. He had been the one who had made sure that Fuse had not suffered at the hands of her captors when the one called Murphy had spirited her into the real world. I was just surprised to see he was willing to do the same for me. Fuse was still an innocent woman. I hadn't thought that of myself since I was nine.

  "Quickest way to get you warmed up was to pop you naked into bed with someone. I didn't think that these folks would like to see two women together, no matter how hot that is, so McGann was out. I figured that you wouldn't mind me too much, since Wolf grabbed Keno and you don't know Logan."

  "And it kept the rest of your party safe,” I whispered.

  Mason didn't say anything but shifted so that he could give me something to drink. I grimaced at the taste of the water but still drank it down eagerly. I rested against him, since the cold still filled me. I was surprised that he continued to stroke my back gently, petting me like he might a cat. Mason seemed to be a very gentle man, for all that he had hunted me and mine in the real world. Honest, too, now that I remembered the conversations we had had when we met before. He had acted a buffoon, but not foolish like the others. He had been willing to admit to his prejudices and worries. While he was not someone I could tolerate for long, he was oddly comforting right now.

  "Don't get too pissed if you wake up with something poking at you,” Mason said roughly after a couple of minutes. “I know that you're not interested. Don't kill me because my dick was too stupid to figure it out."

  I didn't say anything, trying not to be embarrassed for some reason. I drifted off to sleep, plotting on what I needed to do to get back to my estate. I wasn't going to tell him I wasn't able to do anything to harm him. My powers were tied to Nippon, to the land I had claimed and was lord over. Since I was not there and had not left Nippon voluntarily, those powers were cut off from me. I was also exhausted and unable to keep my eyes open any longer.

  * * * *

  I woke up again, alone, but carefully tucked under the blankets. Mason was dressed and sitting by the side of the bed with a man with a very strange hairstyle, a mixture of thin braids and shaved areas. Mason smiled at me when he saw I was awake. I sat up carefully, feeling not exactly weak, but odd, since I was cut off from my land.

  "Tamazusa-sama, this is Logan Sawyer. Wolf and McGann are still fussing over Keno. He's been awake on and off, but he's gonna be okay."

  Mason leaned over and handed me a rough clay mug with water in it. I sipped at it appreciatively and tried to smile winningly at them. Logan seemed to respond to it, but my smile seemed to make Mason nervous.

  "I was worried about him,” I said.

  "How's he doing?” Mason asked me. I knew he was asking about Keno's life in general.

  I looked at him, debating how to answer that. “He is fine,” I said slowly. “Aboshi and my samurai adore him. If it wasn't for his power, we wouldn't be here."

  "Was he with you?” Mason asked, his eyes shadowed. I knew he was remembering the last time we had been together. Aboshi had nearly killed him.

  "He decided that it would be better if one of us stayed at our estate,” I explained. “He trusted Keno to guard me. Which he did an excellent job of. I wouldn't be here if it were not for him."

  One of the Northern woman stomped up to us, eyeing me as if I were last week's garbage. She smelt like a tavern wench and was dressed in a dirty, coarse woolen dress. Her greasy hair was braided back, and her face was smudged. She had the gall to look down her nose at me, though, and I was aware of the fact that I was barely dressed in an odd cotton top. I wondered what had happened to my clothing. I gathered my dignity around me, as tattered as it was, and stared back at the woman calmly.

  "So the skraeling woman is finally awake,” she grunted. “I am Helga."

  The one called Logan winced and Mason frowned. Even if I didn't know the word, I knew that it was an insult from the tone of her voice.

  "I wonder what happened to my clothing?” I asked, trying to sound humble. I hated having to do that, but I was stranded in this territory and almost powerless.

  "Ruined,” she sniffed. “Yours and the other skraeling's were destroyed by the salt. It was soft and pretty, too.” She glared at me. “You know about cooking? Cleaning? Sewing? Or are the two of you just Southern fluff?"

  "I am not familiar with the food of the Northerners,” I told her. Cook? Clean? Why did she expect me to know that? I was the master of my own kuni. I did not do such menial things!

  "Fluff,” the woman sighed, and she stomped off again.

  "They gave Wolf grief because his wife couldn't do any of that shit either,” Mason told me quietly. “Thought that she was the lowest thing on Earth because she wasn't barefoot and cooking for her man."

  "That isn't fair,” Logan protested. “Icelandic women had the most freedom of any women in Europe of the time. However, in a preindustrial society, food preparation is labor intensive and mostly something that the women are expected to do. The men are expected to do the other chores that need more muscle power."

  "And how is Wolf?” I asked, ignoring Logan's protest and explanation. He was a scholar, if he talked like that
. So what was he doing with these people? “I assume that McGann is his ‘wife'? She was a most sensible woman. Much better than the one who was chasing after him."

  I knew that Wolf wasn't in actuality married to McGann. That woman wasn't foolish enough to tie herself down.

  "Good,” Mason said. He looked at Logan and shook his head. “I told the rest of the posse here that I was keeping an eye out for you."

  "I do not need your protection!” I snarled. I hadn't needed a man's protection in centuries, not since before I had died. That I needed it now was demeaning, and that it was this man, slightly embarrassing and appalling.

  Mason tried to sound soothing. “Just so you won't be forced to do something because someone was stupid. Chicks are in short supply here."

  "I wouldn't worry about it,” Logan muttered. “Skraeling is a word that's an insult."

  "I know that,” Mason growled. “So?"

  "Skraeling,” Logan started, looking embarrassed, “it means wretch. In the sagas, some scholars think that the Norse didn't even consider the skraelingjar to be human. They use that word to describe the Native Americans."

  "Well, they're kind of confused about me too,” Mason said with an odd look in his eyes. “They haven't gone as far as to tell me to stay away from their women, but none of these people seem to have seen someone who ain't lily white. They all were really happy that I took you in, ‘cause you'd keep me occupied, in a manner of speaking. I'd be fucking pissed about it, ‘cept they ain't being assholes. They're just backwoods bikers."

  I thought about that. Wolf, McGann, and Logan were all the same “type,” for lack of a better word, light-skinned, pale hair, and blue or green eyes, looking a lot like my involuntary hosts. Mason's darker skin and eyes could be thought of as exotic and attractive or as a sign that he wasn't human. It seemed our hosts were provincial enough to think the latter. I knew I was prejudiced against them, because many were tied to their land and could barely journey a ri or two from their homes. I had been able to move about freely because of Aboshi's ability to travel the shadows. If he had been with me during the meeting with Iida, I wouldn't be here. Unfortunately, I had become overconfident and was now suffering for it. If it hadn't been for Keno, I would have suffered the same fate as my faithful Reavers. I shivered at the thought.