To Dream of White & Gold (Death Dreamer Legacy Book 1)

by R. K. Hart

  Cathan was an only child of only children, and both his parents had died before Lida saw five summers. Lida loved Maya fiercely, but her closest friend from school, Nala, had a veritable army of brothers and sisters, and Lida had always been jealous. She shifted restlessly in her chair.

  She had been impatient to start her apprenticeship with Cathan, excited to build on the skills he had already taught her. Lida knew that she didn’t come across as someone who planned, but she did, quite carefully, just not in the moment. Her apprenticeship with her father would last for four or five years, and after that, she would join his practice, or perhaps begin her own. By that time, she assumed that she might be in love, and be ready to get married; by that time, she might even think about children of her own, assuming there was someone willing to have them with her.

  She didn’t know anything about the Illarum, and the thought of it made her stomach churn. She didn’t know what an apprenticeship there would look like, nor who the mentors were, nor how long she would be expected to stay. She didn’t even know where the Illarum was.

  Jakob watched as she bowed her head and shook her hair over her face to cover it from view.

  Cathan reached out and gently touched his daughter’s curls. ‘Lida,’ he said softly, ‘I’ve been half-waiting for this day ever since Maya was born. Siva … I think she must have been very strong, to heal May’s arm in the way that she did. I’ve seen fully-trained illae-healers who couldn’t do half so much with less serious injuries. For what it’s worth, I think that knowing for certain is always best.’ He smiled sadly. ‘I give you permission to go with Jakob Merchant, my love, but the choice is yours.’ He took one of her hands from where it was gripping her mug and kissed it gently.

  Tears pricked Lida’s eyes. What happens to you could be worse than that. Worse than a week-long storm, worse than an island-wide flood. What would it be for me? She couldn’t bear the thought that she might hurt Cathan or Maya. What if it was worse? What if something had happened in the forum? In the hospice?

  She swallowed, and looked through her hair at Jakob. His eyes were very dark in the dim morning light. ‘You check the register for Siva, and if you’re wrong, I come straight home?’

  He smiled. ‘Immediately, if you like.’

  Lida bit the inside of her cheek.

  ‘Little one?’ Cathan said softly.

  Lida shook the fuzzy curtain of her hair back over her shoulders. ‘At least you won’t have to send me all the way to Brinnica to get rid of me.’

  ***

  They didn’t go back to sleep. There was no point, though Lida did worry from the increasing emptiness of Cathan’s whiskey bottle that he would be insensible by the time the sun rose properly. He didn’t often drink, but on this day he seemed to need it, so his daughters quietly left him to it.

  Jakob was in somewhat of a hurry, politely requesting that they leave no later than dawn. He let slip to Maya that he had not slept for some time, so she made him a pot of coffee and he took it into the back garden to watch the light creep over the fields outside Kingstown and slowly illuminate the sandstone outskirts of the city.

  It took surprisingly little time for Lida to pack; she didn’t own much that she could take. Cathan provided his old travelling bag - half the size of Lida - and Maya helped alternately fold and stuff Lida’s clothes and belongings inside it. Maya made tiny snuffling noises as she worked, which Lida tried hard to ignore: she thought that Maya’s tears might bring on her own, and she could not let herself break down. She didn’t think she’d be able to leave, if she did.

  When they finished, Lida gathered the full pack and her sleeping bag and took them to the stables. She didn’t cast a last glance at her bedroom, or at the house; it felt too much like acceptance, like a farewell. She held tightly onto the possibility of Jakob being wrong, and that she might be back home before anyone other than Cathan and Maya even realised she was gone.

  Jakob had a bad-tempered grey gelding already saddled and bridled. He fed the horse a carrot and murmured under his breath as he waited for Lida, deftly avoiding a snap of strong teeth.

  ‘Where did you get him?’ Lida ventured as the gelding aimed a hoof at Jakob’s calf.

  Jakob stepped out of the way. ‘Delta Port,’ he said through gritted teeth, shortening the reins in his hand. ‘We will be friends in time.’

  Lida eyed the gelding doubtfully as the horse tossed his head. ‘Da?’ she called, hearing him move around in one of the stalls. ‘I think we’re going.’

  ‘Not without this you’re not,’ her father replied gruffly, leading his northern mare, Sacred, from her stable and pushing the reins into Lida’s hands. Sacred was strapped with Lida’s own beaten saddle, her ears pricked forward, excited, as she snuffled at the gelding.

  ‘I can’t take her!’ Lida exclaimed. Sacred was of Brinnican stock, young and strong and feisty and worth more than Cathan’s house. She was also his pride and joy.

  Cathan took Lida’s sleeping bag and fastened it to the back of her saddle, clearing his throat. ‘I bought her as your marriage gift, Lida, so you may as well take her now. I’ll expect you to keep working her, mind. I’ll come and see you at the solstice and I’ll check.’

  The tears Lida had fought tracked down her cheeks and she threw her arms around her father, sniffing and coughing. ‘I hope Jakob is wrong,’ she whispered.

  Cathan barked a laugh. ‘As do I,’ he whispered back. ‘If he is, I’ll stop trying to send you to Brinnica.’ He hugged her fiercely for a moment, and then moved to re-check Sacred’s girth, blinking rather quickly. Maya bustled in, stuffing something into the side of Lida’s pack. She hugged her sister tightly, kissing Lida on the cheek.

  ‘I put something in there for you,’ she said into Lida’s hair. ‘But you’re not to look until you get there. Do you promise?’

  Lida nodded wordlessly, clutching at her.

  ‘We should go,’ Jakob said quietly.

  Cathan stepped forward and grasped Jakob’s forearm in the Brinnican style. ‘Farewell, Jakob of the Merchant family, Priom-Oidre of the Kellith. I charge you with my daughter’s wellbeing. I will see you at the solstice.’

  Jakob blinked, slightly daunted by the veiled threat from the giant man looming over him, but rallied. ‘I will care for her as if she is my sister,’ he promised solemnly, and stepped back to bow in the Eilin way, with his right hand over his heart.

  Cathan nodded without comment and turned, taking Lida by the waist and lifting her into the saddle. She shifted, trying to get her balance right with the pack on her back. Jakob climbed onto the gelding with more difficulty; the horse shied and shivered but stopped short of trying to buck. He nudged the gelding out of the stables and towards the Port Royal trade road. Lida reluctantly clicked her tongue to Sacred.

  ‘Write as soon as you get there, Lida!’ Maya cried as they rode through the gate. Lida turned as best she could to wave and blow kisses, facing back towards the road again before they could see her dissolve into big, messy sobs. Tears soaked onto her collar; Jakob tactfully urged the gelding ahead to give Lida privacy as she cried.

  Jakob had been vague about the Illarum’s location, telling Cathan that it was a journey of at least two days on horseback towards the west coast of Eilan. Lida knew the country in the west was all rolling grassland, split by the Little Lifeblood River, which fed into the Lifeblood proper. It would be the furthest Lida had ever been from Kingstown.

  Within half an hour, the capital city was no longer visible behind them, though Lida kept turning back to make sure. They passed small farms as they rode, with fields full of grazing sheep and cows, or carpeted in cut grain. Occasionally they would see workers making an early start on sowing winter vegetable crops.

  Lida cried until the sun had risen properly and her face was a puffy mess. When she thought she might be done, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and coughed.

  Jakob slowed the gelding to ride beside her. ‘I cried when I left home, too.’

 
‘How old were you?’ Lida said, her voice hoarse.

  Jakob grinned. ‘Ten.’

  She glanced at him and sniffed.

  ‘It was less dramatic for me.’ He sat easily on the gelding, reins in one hand. ‘When my first gift came it was gentle, and no surprise. My mother is strongly gifted, as was my father’s mother, so there was always a fair chance that it would pass to my brother or to me. My parents did not expect it would be both of us, though. It made things more … complicated.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘We should both be at home, learning to run the estate and making heirs. But instead we are in Eilan and in no hurry to do either, much to my father’s irritation.’

  Lida eyed him carefully, wondering whether she’d made a mistake about his age. ‘But haven’t you finished your apprenticeship?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But there is much to keep me in the south.’

  She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, so they rode in silence for some time. The sun rose higher and became warmer; in Kingstown, Cathan would be putting the horses out to pasture and Maya would be brewing tea and making toast before she left for the hospice. Lida swallowed.

  ‘I take it you do not know much about your mother,’ Jakob said.

  ‘My father does not like to speak of her. I think … I think it hurts him. All we know is her first name and that they met in Brinnica. Maya says that she had green eyes like hers, but hair like mine. She tells me stories of her, but she was barely five when Siva died. I don’t know how much is true.’

  Jakob nodded and looked up at the sky. ‘You should ask my brother about the Myrae,’ he said. ‘He was half raised by sea-maidens. And I will ask my mentor to check the register as soon as we arrive. I know what it is like to wish for family. I always wanted a sister or two, so that they would inherit the estate and the family veto, and I would be free to do as I wished. When I came to the Illarum, I gained more brothers and sisters than I know what to do with, but it is not quite the same.’

  Lida frowned. ‘A sister would inherit over you, even though you’re the eldest?’

  ‘Mmm. Women do everything first in Erbide.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, the Priom-lai hold their family’s vote on the Council, and her veto means she can override decisions made by other members of her family if they could affect the estate. All our justices are women, and most of our tutors. The Priom-lai are our commanders in times of war, too.’

  ‘That sounds sensible.’

  Jakob grinned. ‘We think so.’

  They spoke for some time in a winding, roundabout way of small things, mostly of differences between their two countries. Jakob was charming and easy to talk to, and Lida found herself gradually relaxing as he spoke, silently reassessing what she thought she’d known about Erbide. In Erbide, they did not shake hands in greeting, but rather bowed; they kept their sword hand open to the side to show that they held no weapon. In Erbide, when you met someone for the very first time, you did not ask are you well? but rather how does your family? Jakob did not tell Lida the proper Erbidan words; other than the titles known outside the island country, they were forbidden to speak their tongue to outlanders.

  Lida studied him surreptitiously as they rode. Most of what she had been taught about Erbide was focused on the country’s considerable history of warfare. The fierce island people’s favourite opponent was Brinnica, with whom they shared a long and complex tradition of strong alliance dissolving into war only to ally once again, usually against Eilan; the north was fond of standing united against the south. Every illustration Lida had seen of Erbidans were of their swordshields or their archers, holding longbows as tall as a man. Though Lida had never seen the shopkeep Jorge with a sword, he was still muscled in a way that suggested he would know what to do with one. Jakob didn’t look particularly war-like either, especially after he’d swapped his messenger’s cloak and bag for a white shirt and black jodhpurs; with his raven hair curling artlessly to his shoulders and the proud way he held himself. Lida thought he looked more like a lordling going for a pleasure ride than a warrior. But just like Jorge, Jakob’s shoulders were broad and there was muscle on his slender frame. She’d also noticed a large, wicked-looking knife strapped to one boot, and she didn’t think it was decorative. He was tall and golden-skinned like Jorge, too, but where Jorge’s blunt face reminded Lida of a cheerful blacksmith from a children’s story, Jakob had a long, straight patrician’s nose with a light sprinkling of freckles, and a rather strong jaw. It gave him a stubborn look, but with high cheekbones and full lips, the overall effect was more than pleasing, and Lida doubted he had ever lacked admirers.

  Jakob blinked, wishing she would not think quite so loudly.

  ‘Lida,’ he said a while later, ‘do you think Sacred would like a run?’

  ‘I suppose,’ she answered distractedly; she had been studying a grain crop to their right, trying to identify the stalks. She had never ridden Sacred at anything faster than a trot, so she had no real idea.

  ‘Good,’ Jakob said, and urged the gelding into a canter.

  Watching them run, Lida realised why Jakob didn’t mind the gelding’s temper; the horse had a beautiful, fluid gait, his tail streaming behind him in a white flag.

  Not to be outdone, Sacred pricked her ears and followed the moment Lida’s heels touched her sides. Lida tightened her knees just in time to avoid being jolted backwards over her rump.

  It took a while for Lida to sit the canter properly, and for a few minutes she bounced around like a novice, trying to balance the heavy pack on her shoulders. Once she got used to Sacred’s movement and to the force of the pack dragging her backwards, she sat as if she and Sacred were one wild creature. Sacred’s red mane flowed into Lida’s face and she laughed, enjoying the rush against her face, and the momentary feeling of freedom.

  Jakob pushed the horses for longer than Lida thought sensible. The gelding showed no signs of tiring, and Sacred kept up stubbornly, though Lida could see the sweat starting to darken her coat. Lida’s arms and shoulders were stiff, her thighs on fire, and more than one surprised bug had been coughed unceremoniously from her mouth and down onto her shirt. Her face was caked in dust from the gelding’s trail and much of her hair had escaped its loose braid.

  There!

  Jakob’s voice echoed around Lida’s mind. She shook her head, startled. When the echo faded, she was left with an odd feeling, almost like a tickle at the front of her skull.

  In the distance, there was a glimmer of blue. She concentrated on it, blinking rapidly.

  The blue was the Little Lifeblood, a river of about forty metres wide that stretched towards Port Royal on the western coast and to the Lifeblood River proper in the east. It wasn’t deep enough to allow merchant ships to come inland from Port Royal, but it was often busy with sailboats and river barges, ferrying goods between Kingstown and the coast. It looked deceptively calm, but Lida knew from Cathan’s stories that its current ran swift. A carpet of thick grass and wildflowers lined its steep banks. Looking east, Lida could see the occasional willow tree trailing leaves into the water, and a pair of black swans gliding along the water’s edge. Lida eyed them warily; she didn’t much like swans.

  A small town had sprung up on either side of the ferry crossing, and as they got closer, Lida could hear the bustle on both sides of the river banks. It was almost lunchtime; the waft of roasting meat came on the breeze, making her stomach growl. Jakob crooned soft endearments to the gelding as they slowed the horses to a walk; Lida stroked Sacred’s neck and sat straight, stretching as best she could, her back aching from the ride.

  They pulled the horses up on the riverbank, and Jakob dismounted to buy their passage. Lida stared uneasily at the ferry.

  The ferry was little more than a large, sturdy-looking raft, ringed by a flimsy wooden fence. It was big enough to stand thirty or so, if thirty people were brave enough to try it. Lida thought it looked like a large, tarred lily pad; she watch
ed it rock on the river current and tried to swallow down her nerves.

  She had been to the river towns once before, when Cathan was called to a nearby farm to deal with an outbreak of cowpox. Lida had been young, but she remembered the trip vividly. She had not been afraid of the rocking ferry until she stepped on board, and the motion of the wood on the water made vomit rise up her throat and produced a headache so severe that she had lost her sight for a while. Cathan had been so surprised that he had almost taken her straight back home; instead, he had rented a room at the tavern to let her sleep while he tended the herd. Maya had sat by her side and played cards while they waited; Cathan had not woken Lida up for the return trip, and the next day she’d resolved to never travel by ferry again.

  ‘It is buoyed,’ Jakob said, walking back with the gelding in hand, mistaking her frown for confusion about how the ferry stayed afloat.

  Lida shook her head, not willing to explain, and handed him Sacred’s reins before she reluctantly allowed herself to be ushered before him. Sweat broke out on her palms as she stepped on board.

  The rocking sensation was less than she’d expected, and it eased as she moved further from the edge. She found what she thought was the exact centre of the raft and sat, hugging her knees to her chest.

  Jakob led the horses on together, cajoling in a low voice; he had evidently done the same thing many times before. Both horses were skittish as they stepped on board but settled when Jakob produced a pair of carrots from nowhere.

  ‘Do you need one, too?’ he said to Lida, raising an eyebrow. She ignored him, closing her eyes.

  They were the only passengers. Lida heard the call as the ferryman cast off, and felt the light tremor through the wood as his pole found the riverbed below and he pushed.

  The raft rocked. Lida swallowed and clamped her teeth together as vomit rose up her throat, trying desperately to think of something else, thankful that they weren’t crossing the Lifeblood proper, which was closer to one hundred metres wide at its narrowest point, and miles wide elsewhere. A slight breeze blew against her back, and her shirt stuck to her skin, damp with nervous sweat.