Eventually Martay had to go home. It was getting quite late and they both had school the next day. They hadn’t found a single likely tree, they were both exhausted and couldn’t bring themselves to do any more searching that night. They hoped that maybe, with a little time overnight, Amy might simply remember where she had seen it.
Martay departed into the night and Amy got ready for bed. She was about to switch off the light when she noticed Martay had left his sketch book behind. She picked it up slowly and gazed at the drawing as she got into bed. Every detail Martay had drawn in seemed wonderfully natural, much more realistic and beautiful than the way she had dreamt it, she thought to herself, and she really had to admire his skill. She lay pondering the dream yet again while she stared at Martay's drawing, lying propped on her side until eventually exhaustion go the better of her. She drifted off, losing her grip on the sketch book.
The tree stood before her. Her arm was outstretched and her fingers were mere centimetres away from the bark. It was almost like her mind needed her to touch it just to confirm that it was real. As it was, it was fake and out of place. It needed imperfections, creases, cracks, a less perfectly ordered splay of branches! She took one quick look back at Martay who was watching her over the top of his canvas. He shrugged his shoulders in a kind of ‘why not’ sort of way. She turned back to face the strange old tree again and reached her hand out the final, tiny extra distance and pressed her finger tips against the bark.
The sensation that rushed through her fingers and up into her arm and body was incredible. She tingled with an amazing, revitalizing energy as if she was drawing warmth and power straight out of the tree itself. A strange humming noise filled her ears. If the earth itself was able to chant it would probably have sounded like this. Not that this bothered her. The sound was soothing, calming, it filled her with confidence. She was looking up at the tree, thinking about all the things that she considered to be missing from it. The branches definitely needed to change and it needed altogether more… life and wholesomeness to it. The humming sounds swelled in a voluminous wave inside her head. Not in a dominating way. Almost, it told Amy that she was doing the right thing. She felt like her hair was standing on end, waving about of its own free will as if the energy flowing through her gave it the power to ignore gravity. The warmth she felt was also beginning to pulsate now, with hot surges passing through Amy’s hand. This time Amy was aware that it was energy from her own body that was passing into the tree.
Martay completely dropped his brush and palette, standing open mouthed, staring at Amy and the tree in front of her. Both of them were surrounded by an odd golden haze like some kind of angelic aura. Amy had noticed it as well. She inhaled sharply in surprise. Rich lines of golden light started to run up the bark of the tree from where Amy was touching it, spreading out from her fingers like a net. They etched creases into the trunk and branches, all the way from the leaves to the roots. The branches themselves swayed as if they were being disturbed by an extremely powerful wind, twisting and bending like rubber. Slowly the movement died down but many of the branches stayed twisted and bent after their upheaval. Then the clearing was filled with pure stillness.
The humming in Amy’s ears ceased and she stepped back, away from the tree. It was no longer the strange, unreal giant which had seemed so out of place to her. Now every detail about it stood out at her like the other details she had noticed before; the scratch on her school locker, the crack in the foot path the lean of the post. Now, the tree seemed almost hyper realistic to her. She stood staring at it, not noticing that the rest of the world was fading into nothingness around her. Soon only the tree remained, then it too faded away to black.
Amy had practically reached the entrance to the clearing when the sudden urge to quickly visit it overcame her and she decided to check it out before she carried on to school for the day. She adjusted her direction slightly, leaving the path, and made for the gap in the line of big trees which opened onto the spot. As she stepped through the space between the two most separated trees, she looked back over her shoulder to check if anyone was around or had seen her. The park was totally dead, without a single soul in sight. She turned her gaze back around just in time to spot Martay right in front of her. She only narrowly avoided crashing straight into the back of him.
He was standing dead still, staring at the middle of the clearing and he had dropped all of his things. Amy looked nervously over his shoulder and was immediately struck with the same expression Martay bore on his face. Her jaw dropped lower than would normally be considered possible, her eyes were wider than plates. Her arms went limp at her side and she let her backpack and books dropped pointlessly to the ground. They didn’t matter.
“How…” she tried to ask, “when…” she was still struggling to get words out of her mouth and it was clear that Martay was struggling with the same problem, “sorry but…WHAT!??” was all Amy managed in the end.
The tree from her last dream was there before them, large as life and every bit as real as it too. It was the spitting image of Martay's drawing and the way that Amy had pictured it in her dream after having changed it somehow. One other thing they knew for sure; there had most definitely never been a tree in the middle of their clearing before. Yet there it was. There was no point trying to pretend a twenty-foot-high tree didn’t exist. How it had come into existence though, that was the real question.
✽ ✽ ✽
Arnorial sat looking thoughtfully across the southern length of the forest. He gave the appearance of being quite tall, but this was only because of his surprisingly lithe frame. Nevertheless, he radiated a kind of inner strength. Perhaps it was his eyes that showed this. They had an almost unnatural sparkle in them, as well as a depth that gave a feeling of incredible age. This was only fitting. The last remaining elf in Otthon, he was nearly one thousand years old.
His face may have revealed nothing, but inside his emotions were like a pool of calm water that had just had a boulder dropped in the center. His heart pounded as adrenalin surged through him. What could it mean? What could have caused it? His thoughts turned darkly to the events of the past two years and the terrifying prospect, which he had tried to convince himself wasn’t likely, suddenly resurfaced as a near certainty.
Very few people throughout all the long history that he had lived in could have caused such a powerful shockwave to echo through the dreamplane. He had hoped deep in his heart for the past seventeen years that one of them was still alive. Then again, if after all this time she had suddenly caused such an enormous stir, it wouldn’t be a good sign. Nevertheless, it would be better than the alternative. A massive rupture in the dreamplane was the kind of thing expected of Gorhoth and he was supposed to have been destroyed.
Arnorial strode back and forth across the wooden platform in the trees, his hands clasped behind his back and his brow furrowed with concern.
Which was more likely, he wondered? That Amriel had a reason to manipulate the dreamplane on this scale again? Or that his old enemy was not as dead as everyone thought? Arnorial knew the answer but didn’t want to believe it. The fact of the matter was, Gorhoth had been presumed dead before, only to return years later seeking vengeance for his downfall. The enemy was so powerful that even after his defeat, Amriel had risked her life and indeed the very fabric of reality itself to create a safe-haven incase Gorhoth should return again.
Arnorial accepted the conclusion and took a number of deep breaths to calm himself down. Only his eyes reflected in kind of emotion within, burning with a bright fire. It was time for action. The first step was to gather information and re-establish old friendships. After all, he could not hope to fight Gorhoth alone.
He had two avenues to choose from. He could try to warn the Arbiters, or he could try to contact Amriel. Sadly, history told him that the Arbiters would only act to restore balance. If Gorhoth was already at large then he was doing a very good job of remaining invisible, with the possible exception of this recent distur
bance. He could not be seen or sensed with the aid of magic and there were no prior disruptions to the dreamplane. He could have set up in his old citadel again but there had been no rumour of any activity there.
No, the Arbiters would not act. Not yet in any case. Arnorial’s wisest move was to try and contact Amriel herself. He knew it should be impossible but if there was a way then there was only one person who would know how.
✽ ✽ ✽
Chapter 3
It took a little time before either Amy or Martay moved. Their attention was completely fixed on what they were seeing in front of them. The tree’s branches swayed slightly, as if they had been disturbed by an unfelt wind. Because they bent in swirls around the trunk they gave the illusion of being one large, spinning spiral that was moving slowly up and then back down the tree. In every other respect it had normal tree characteristics. Its bark was reminiscent of an oak, aside from the fact that it was silvery in hue. The roots spread a very short distance around the base before disappearing into the ground. Its leaves were shapely, with a rich, dark green tone.
Amy’s first thought was that the tree could not possibly have been transplanted, brought here from another location. No earth had been disturbed and the grass around its base had clearly been growing happily without interruption for years. Then again, it certainly hadn’t been there any more than a day. Amy had been here with Martay in the last week and there was no way that a tree could grow this big in that time. She had wondered if, like she had feared, she was going crazy and it was just a hallucination but no, Martay could see it as well.
Childish as it seemed, she began to suspect that this must have been some kind of magic. It was absurd. She loved a good fantasy but she wasn’t naïve. Magic only existed in stories and movies, not in real life. And yet, there was no denying the fact that the tree existed and it had come out of nowhere. At this point in time, magic was as good an explanation as any.
Amy and Martay looked at each other inquisitively and then moved forward together to inspect the tree more closely. Martay walked all the way around it, taking in every little detail. Amy was standing still in front of the trunk with her hand reaching out towards it, reluctant to move any further. Images from her dream were burnt into her mind’s eye and she questioned what would happen if she actually connected with the wood. If the entire tree from her dream could appear in reality, was it that much of a stretch to believe that the other strange things might happen? Martay ceased walking around and finally spoke. Amy withdrew her hand sharply.
“What I don’t understand is why it looks more... sort of… realistic than you described it. Now that it’s here it sort of… fits in, almost like it belongs.”
Amy looked at him with the air of someone who was giving in to inevitability. She knew that what she was about to say would sound quite absurd and wasn’t really sure if Martay would fully believe or understand her. Nevertheless, she decided there was nothing for it but to launch into an explanation of the bizarre dream she had had last night. By the time she was finished Martay was staring at the tree again with an even deeper level of disbelief. He didn’t say anything as yet.
“Do you think it would be safe for me to touch it?” Amy asked with a shake in her voice.
Martay looked at her, his face full of concern, mingled with uncertainty. The discovery of the morning had shaken his beliefs to their core and he didn’t know quite how to respond. The whole situation was so crazy he didn’t know what to think. Normal rules had clearly been broken, so why not take a little risk. Risk to himself though, not to Amy. He would never willingly let her endanger herself.
“I think maybe it would be best if I tried to touch it first,” he said and as he did, reached out his arm. His fingers were mere centimetres away. He hesitated, took a deep breath, extended his hand the last little bit and… nothing happened. The bark felt creased but smooth and hard to the touch, neither warm nor cold. There was no strange light, no change in the tree, nothing at all. Amy quickly followed suit and pressed her hand hard against the trunk but with the same result. Martay's thoughts slowly made their way down the same path that Amy’s thinking had been following already. Amy hadn’t dared to express them out loud. Martay's words came slowly, they were almost questioning.
“Amy… you know how some people use the English expression, ‘a dream come true’… well….” He paused but Amy was already thinking it, “you dreaming about this tree and then it suddenly being here… that cannot be a coincidence, no?”
It was madness! Impossible!
“Amy, what if you are, sort of, connected to… whatever it was that made the tree?” Martay struggled to express himself easily in English. His mind was racing too quickly to translate fluidly. “What if the tree coming here made you dream about it, like some kind of magic?”
Amy was wrapped in a whirlwind of competing thoughts. Martay was right, there was almost certainly a connection here but something made Amy think the relationship was the other way around to what Martay was suggesting. All that she said quietly in response was “Creating something from nothing… I always thought of it in a metaphysical sense, not literally.”
They had been in the clearing far too long and their time was running out. They needed to rush to school and even then, couldn’t hope to be on time. They both agreed they would meet in the afternoon to discuss what had happened. Amy felt like skipping school for the day but she knew that if she did the school would call her parents and then there would be awkward questions.
At the end of the day they raced back to Amy’s house, stopping off shortly to look at the tree again. Once they were locked inside Amy’s room, the discussion exploded and all of their ideas spilled out into the air. They tried to think of a rational explanation for the tree’s appearance. They wanted to rule out any other possibilities before they jumped to a conclusion that this was something like magic. They couldn’t think of any though. It was simply impossible for there to have been no tree one day and then a full-grown tree the next without any sign of it having being actively planted. Their thoughts kept circling back to Amy’s dream and finally, after it had become truly dark outside, they came to an agreement about what to do next.
They were both convinced that Amy’s dream had something to do with the tree coming into existence. Martay felt it was more likely that its creation had caused Amy to have her strange dreams whereas Amy quietly believed it was the other way around.
To decide which it was they both agreed that if something could be created after Amy dreamed about it that would prove that Amy was in fact the instigator.
They grinned at each other excitedly as Martay prepared to leave for the night and it was only at the front door that Amy’s excitement was slowly replaced by a sense of doubt. Their plan was perfect insofar as it would tell them whether her dreams had some magical power in themselves but this had only happened to her once and the dreams which she had had were totally different to any other dream in her life. Furthermore, they hadn’t been intentional. They had simply happened. How, she wondered, could she possibly recreate them?
It had been an entire week since Amy and Martay had discovered the existence of the tree but Amy had not once experienced another of the dreams. She lay in bed wide awake, worrying and seriously doubting that anything like it would ever happen again. Maybe it really had just been a crazy coincidence? Maybe there was some logical explanation for where the tree came from, and the dreams, just some kind of strange de je vu? She felt deep down that it was all too closely tied up to be chance but day after day of nothing was preying on her mind. Another problem she now faced was that she was barely sleeping at all. Such was her anticipation every night, she couldn’t fall asleep even though she wanted to. It was an ironic, circular problem.
She was actually becoming oddly accustomed to the tiredness and one night decided that since she couldn’t get to sleep easily, she might as well do something with the time. As a result, she went hunting for her copy of Lord of the Rings. She ha
d read it multiple times before but it was one of her all time favourite books. She rummaged around everywhere for several minutes but in the end her search was fruitless. It was nowhere to be found in her room and she couldn’t be bothered hunting through the whole house tonight. She returned to her bed trying hard to remember where she had last put it. When she finally nodded off, her final thought was that she was sure she had left it on her bed side table. It was supposed to be there.
The book was also the first thing that crossed Amy’s mind when she woke up. The simple reason for this was that she had dreamt all night that she had been looking for it and had finally found it lying on her bedside table where it belonged, just before she awoke. She sighed with exhaustion and rolled over to get out of bed, only to find the book staring at her from the bedside table. She did a double take. She had definitely looked there last night, hadn’t she? She tried to restrain the excitement building inside of her and she reminded herself that it was probably unfounded. There was every chance she had simply overlooked the book last night. Besides, her dreams had been perfectly normal again, not at all like the ones with the tree. In normal dreams her thoughts jumped around rapidly like they were out of control. Anything that she focused on seemed real but any background to this faded and was forgotten. In her dreams about the tree the whole world had remained solid and real. Her thoughts had remained unbroken and consistent. She quickly prepared for the day before grabbing the book and taking it down to the kitchen where her parents were already having breakfast.
Bridge Between the Worlds Page 4
