The Book of Dreams

by O. R. Melling

  In her room, Dana flung herself across the bed not knowing if she wanted to scream or cry. Miserable, she stared at her posters. The images of Ireland reminded her of everything she had lost: the little terraced house where she and Gabe had lived together, the gang of boys she played soccer on the street with, the sea-swept strand of Bray, the Wicklow Mountains.

  And, as always when her unhappiness grew too hard to bear, she made her escape.

  It was easy to do, as natural as breathing. Dana closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. In the darkness behind her eyelids, the motes of light gathered. Slowly they began to dance together, weaving a vision.

  A high hill of dappled grass. A shining green slope. The pale mist of morning mingles with the light spilling from the clouds. On the crown of the hill, a megalith takes shape. Two great standing stones with a capstone overhead: a dolmen, a great stone archway. Green grass, gray stone, pale mist and light. The ancient magic of Faerie. A portal to beyond.

  No longer an image in her mind, it was there before her.

  Dana ran up the hill toward the dolmen. Golden light issued forth to caress her face like the sun. Faint sounds of revelry echoed from within. Her heart lifted. This was what sustained her in her life of exile. Two homelands were hers, Ireland and Faerie. If she could not have one, at least she had the other. Half-human, half-fairy, this was her birthright, to walk between the worlds.

  Dana had no sooner stepped through the portal than she found herself facing a great wall covered in ivy. She grinned to herself. There was often a trick or a test to undergo. The world of Faerie was like Chinese boxes—an elaborate puzzle of riddles and secrets, a maze of dimensions wrapped inside each other. She inspected the wall. It seemed to go on forever, both upward and sideways. She attempted to climb but her foot found no purchase and she immediately slipped back. She stood there, stumped. Then she heard the giggles. They came from behind the ivy. She giggled herself as she pulled at the leafage.

  After a few tugs, the creepers obligingly gave way like green curtains on a stage. There in the stonework was an exquisite frieze that told a tale in multicolored mosaic.

  Fado, fado. Once upon a time …

  Edane, the fairy Queen of Wicklow went a-maying with her ladies. Eastward they journeyed, toward the rising sun. The land was an endless garden. Beautiful were its trees and flowers, its lakes and streams; sweet, the music of the birds on the branch and those in the clear air.

  When they reached the sugared peak of Little Giltspur, in sight of the blue sea, the Queen’s ladies chose a sheltered place to hold their picnic. They fashioned a bower with the mayflowers they had gathered as they went. On a cloth of white linen, they laid out seedcakes dripping with honey and crystal glasses of cool elder wine. Then they called to their mistress to join them.

  Edane only laughed and waved them away as she ran down the hillside, for she was chasing two butterflies, a Holly Blue and a Clouded Yellow. Soon she had left her ladies behind, as southward she flew in pursuit of her quarry. Her red-gold hair shone like fire. She wore a gown of pale silk that swept the ground.

  After a time she came to an old forest that crested a high ridge. There she heard the music. It drifted through the air toward her, high silvery notes. Head tilted on her shoulder, eyes closed, she listened. The tune was like nothing she had ever heard before, powerful and beguiling. Following the sound, she moved lithely through the trees, drawn downhill irresistibly closer.

  When Edane came to a clearing, she hid behind a bramble bush. Purple berries draped her ears and throat like jewels. Peering through the greenery, she gazed at the young man who commanded the glade.

  His hair was dark, falling in curls that framed his lean features. He bowed his slender body as he strained to make music, his red lips pressing against the silver flute.

  The Queen was enchanted by what she heard and what she saw. The Queen was enchanted by the music and the man.

  Dana smiled at the pictures, knowing the story of how her fairy mother fell in love with her human father. Alas the tale didn’t end happily ever after, not only because they were mortal and immortal but because Dana’s mother was already married to the King of the Mountain.

  “Stop messing.” Dana addressed her mother in one of the panels of the mural. “Come on, let me in.”

  The image burst out laughing, the wall disappeared, and there stood Edane, fiery hair wreathed in holly and ivy, eyes like blue stars.

  “Welcome home, daughter,” said the fairy queen in a melodious voice. “Welcome to the Fair Flowering Place where there is no grief or sorrow nor sickness or death.”

  “Just what I need,” said Dana as they embraced.

  They were more like friends than mother and daughter. Forever young and forever beautiful, Edane appeared no older than a girl of eighteen. Dana, tall at thirteen and soon to be fourteen, was quickly catching up. A fleeting concern crossed her mind. What would happen when she grew older than Edane? Dana pushed the thought away. She had come to escape her worries, not to add to them. After all, she didn’t have to age either, at least not at the same rate as full mortals. Her fairy blood was strong. She could control how she looked, especially in Faerie.

  Remembering that, Dana looked down at her clothing. With a single thought she transformed the baggy pants and sweater into a blue gown with a silver mantle. As she touched her head lightly, her hair was swept up with a crespine of pearls. In Faerie, she was beautiful.

  Edane clapped her hands with delight.

  “Come, dance with me!”

  The shining kingdom was their playground. Tír Tairngire. Land of Promise. Magh Abhlach. The Plain of the Apple Trees. It was a country that revived the spirits of all who journeyed there, delighting the mind and nourishing the soul. The greensward of meadow was speckled with red poppies and bluebells. Streams overflowed with milk and honey. Sweet music chimed from the gold-leafed trees, and the “nobles of the wood,” the birds of bright plumage, sang from the branches in the ever-new tongue.

  What is the number of the hosts which the light of the clear sky reveals?

  What are the multitudes which dwell there on the other side of the solid earth?

  And the bright sun, whither does it go?

  On a summer lawn, they danced a roundelay with many creatures. Wood mice and foxes, hares and hawks, ladybirds and damselflies, all footed lightly, singing and hooting and humming together. When the dancing stopped, they dined in a house of white stone with a roof of peacock feathers and a floor of spangled glass. A feast of fruits and sweet wine was served in dishes of gold and silver.

  After the meal, they lounged on embroidered cushions as music wafted on the air like perfume.

  Edane cupped her palms together and smiled to herself as golden light spilled out. She caught her daughter’s hands.

  “Do you make light?”

  Dana was surprised. Truth to tell, she couldn’t remember the last time she had tried.

  “There’s no need to here,” she said defensively.

  Her mother laughed and shook her head gently.

  “What of the other place? You belong to two worlds. Are you not yourself in both?”

  Edane flung a stream of light into the air.

  “You come from a noble line, Dana. You are the daughter of a spéirbhean, a sky-woman. You belong to that tribe who herd the stars across the heavens, whose veins flow with light. We are descended from the White Lady of the Waters. That is your legacy.”

  The more Edane spoke, the more suspicious Dana grew. It was not like her mother to ask questions or give lectures.

  “Who told you to say this?” she asked indignantly. “Has someone been spying on me?”

  “We see everyone on every side and no one sees us,” Edane said blithely. Then her eyes flashed with mischief and she threw up her hands. “I cannot do this! I cannot be like a human mother. I cannot tell you what to do. Remind you of your duties. Be good. Behave. It is against my nature!”

  Edane burst into such wild pe
als of laughter that Dana couldn’t help but join in. Here was another reason she loved Faerie. No one expected her to be responsible or mature. Indeed the opposite was encouraged.

  Dana stayed for many days and nights. Days spent sailing in a glass-bottomed boat on warm green seas where mermaids dwelled. Nights spent sleeping in a hammock high in the treetops under stars that sang. Eventually, however, though she tried hard to ignore it, she felt the pull of the Earthworld drawing her back. No matter how much she enjoyed herself in Faerie, her human side inevitably wanted to go home. She resented the pull and yet was powerless against it. Otherwise she might never have chosen to return.

  It was twilight. A hush had fallen over the sage-green fields. Dana strolled arm in arm with her mother. On the road ahead, the portal took shape. In flashes of mist and fire the great gateway rose up to span the worlds.

  Edane reminded her daughter that no time had passed on the other side.

  “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.

  Not 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.