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

by R. K. Hart

  She waved her hand and created an image of the last time she had seen the lovely Brinnican woman, standing in the swirling snow at the Bay of the Lost, a hand on her rounded stomach. Her unbound hair lashed around her face in an unfelt breeze, her blue eyes gleaming.

  She heard Tiernan sigh behind her. ‘I have wished for this,’ he said, with a wistfulness in his voice that Lida tried not to be shocked by. ‘She is well?’

  ‘She was well, when we left,’ Lida answered.

  Tiernan stepped to her side and studied the image. A shudder rippled through the dream.

  ‘Her stomach,’ he said. Desperation swirled around him; the blackness was thick with feeling. ‘She is with child?’

  Lida swallowed, wondering if she’d made a mistake. ‘I thought she wrote to you. Have you not received her letters?’

  He shook his head as everything around them darkened, as if all the colour had been sucked from the dream. Lida felt invisible walls press in, and she struggled to shield herself from the strength of emotion emanating from her mentor. His shoulders shook with effort as he tried to keep himself together.

  ‘Tiernan,’ she said, touching his arm. ‘She is well. You will see her again. And your child.’

  She looked away to give him time to compose himself; when she turned back, his face had resumed its usual sternness, or at least an approximation of it. He took in the newfound muscle on her bare arms with a frown; his eyes widened in horror as he beheld her legs.

  ‘What happened?’ he demanded.

  She waved away his concern. ‘A nightmare,’ she said shortly. ‘Tiernan, I need help. We need help. There is a mist across Port Royal Point and Lorcan and I are trapped in it. We cannot see which way to go, and Lorcan cannot use his gift. We don’t know what to do.’

  He stared at her.

  ‘Tiernan!’ she said impatiently.

  ‘The mist is my doing,’ he said slowly. ‘When we heard of the attack, Tomas and I cast it to make sure the Illarum would stay safe. We thought you would stay longer in the town. Have you water? Food?’

  ‘A little of both.’

  He nodded. ‘Then stay where you are. I will come.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He shook his head. ‘Thank you. For this.’ He gestured at the image of Katrin. ‘I will write to her.’ He frowned. ‘No. I will go to her.’

  ‘Come to us first,’ Lida said sharply.

  He visibly shook himself, and Lida hoped desperately that he would remember the dream when he awoke. ‘Of course.’ He gave her his level grey stare. ‘Go and rest. I will see you soon.’

  Lida woke tired and drained. She had wriggled out from beneath the blanket in the night and the top half of her body was saturated from the mist. It hung around them still, unabated and enveloping, its unnatural light making Lida’s stomach twist in unease.

  Lorcan was still asleep, so she peeled off her shirt, shivering, and wrung it out over the grass next to her, stuffing it back under the covers in the vain hope it might start to dry. She squeezed the excess moisture from her hair, grimacing as droplets of water ran down her back, soaking her breastband and making it stick to her clammy skin. She slid back under the blanket and, steeling herself, reached down to roll up her jodhpurs and touch her aching legs.

  Her feet and ankles were unharmed, having been protected from the nightmare flames by the leather boots she’d worn in the dream. From half way up her calves to above her knees she could feel tender but unbroken skin wherever her fingers pressed. She imagined - when she gathered the courage to look at them - that they would be covered in bruises. She hoped that Tiernan would have the foresight to ride when he came to find them, and cursed her stupidity in forgetting to weave the shield that Aaron had taught her. She had thought she’d be safe in Lorcan’s dream. She wriggled back down, pondering.

  Some rules of the waking world and the dreamscape seemed to be the same: the leather armour she’d worn against Alys’ fae and her boots had both protected her in the nightmares, at least somewhat. But all the injuries she’d received had manifested as bruises in reality, regardless of whether they were scratches or cracked ribs or burns. She supposed it made some kind of sense: the injuries were, in a way, beneath the skin: everything in the dreamscape was internal.

  She shook her head slightly and stared at Siva’s ring, fervently wishing that there was someone who could explain all the rules, someone to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. Readers had other readers to instruct them, and healers learned from other healers; even Lorcan had Tiernan. She felt tired, being on her own.

  As if to contradict the thought, warm fingertips slid across her belly and drew a light pattern on her hip.

  ‘Mmm.’

  She rolled towards him. ‘What?’

  Lorcan traced his fingers up her spine, not opening his eyes. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill outside. ‘Nothing. I should have woken up earlier, and wasted less time sleeping.’

  She snorted. ‘Then I will try a different tact next time you have a nightmare.’

  He sat up abruptly, shuddering, his hair immediately coating with mist as the blanket fell around his waist, uncovering them. ‘Oh, gods, your legs. How bad is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t looked yet.’

  He tilted his head. ‘Would you like me to?’

  Lida nodded, and he leaned across and gently pressed on her calves.

  After a while, he sat back. ‘It is not as bad as I thought it would be,’ he said. ‘The bruising is all on the surface. Although I am sure it hurts,’ he added quickly, seeing Lida’s face. ‘The worst is here.’ He touched the outer edge of her right calf muscle, his fingertips feather-light.

  She nodded, bringing her legs back underneath the cover of the blanket. ‘Thank you.’

  He looked around, then closed his eyes, swallowing. ‘Where did you go last night?’

  Lida shook her head; she had almost forgotten. ‘I made it to the Illarum,’ she said, unable to keep the slight ring of pride from her voice. ‘I found Tiernan. He’s coming for us.’

  Lorcan breathed out slowly. ‘Thank the gods.’

  Lida pushed her hair back over her shoulder. ‘Thank me, instead,’ she said tartly. ‘The gods had nothing to do with it.’

  Chapter Thirty-One: Home

  Tiernan found them hours later.

  Using their packs as props, they had fashioned a kind of low, tiny tent, stretching out one of the embroidered blankets as a canopy. It offered a little protection from the incessant moisture of the mist and helped to lessen Lorcan’s anxious claustrophobia, although Lida caught him often looking uneasily out into the swirling white, his fear pressing on her mindshield as strongly as the mist itself. Whenever she thought it was getting too bad, she would demand he tell her a story, so he told her more about the selkies and the merrows, and how Kellen’s selkie had saved him from the sea during a storm. The act of telling calmed him, so in an attempt to extend it Lida purposefully baited him, picking the tales apart and making a number of disparaging remarks about Erbidan beliefs. It made him cross enough to forget the mist outside, for a little while, at least.

  Between stories, they played cards. After arguing for quite some time, they settled on the game parlor, one of the few they both knew. They had nothing with which to bet, so Lorcan turned it into a training exercise, nestling his mind outside Lida’s; the object was to discern the other’s hand by trying to pick up stray thoughts.

  Lorcan had won every round. Lida toyed crossly with the end of her braid, trying to keep her thoughts quiet as he pressed against her mindshield. Her fingers tangled in Ava’s ribbon, absent-mindedly loosening it. She exclaimed in annoyance and placed her cards facedown while she untied it.

  As she did, she realised that the press on her mindshield had lessened. She glanced at Lorcan. His eyes were fixed on her fingers. Lida bit the inside of her cheek, considering; looking deliberately out at the mist, she unwove her plait slowly, running her fingers through her hair
to untangle it, then risked another glance. His eyes hadn’t moved, but they had hooded slightly, so she continued to slowly release her hair from her braid as she cautiously let her mindshield thin.

  It wasn’t until all her hair was unbound and she swept it over one shoulder, running a hand through the mass of it, that he became distracted enough to forget what he was supposed to be doing.

  ‘A ship, a queen, a red two, a black seven, and a black ten,’ she crowed gleefully.

  He frowned in surprise and she laughed, delighted.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You did that on purpose!’

  She blinked innocently, winding a curl around her fingers. ‘Did what?’

  He made a growling sound.

  Lida gave her sweetest smile. ‘Shall I deal again?’

  He leaned back, resting on his elbows, stretching his legs out. He tilted his chin up and looked at her through long black lashes.

  ‘Whatever you wish, ais-la.’

  She dealt them both five cards and picked up her hand. He ignored his entirely; his eyes didn’t leave her face. After a minute, she started to flush.

  His lips curved up into a lazy half-smile, but there was something more in it, something knowing, something that Lida imagined said I can hear exactly how fast your heart is beating. Her hands started to heat and his eyes flickered to them unerringly, then back up to her face. The lazy smile stretched into the full, savage, snow-leopard grin. He stretched out his own fingers and the misty air around them sharpened, laced with the edge of a storm, cutting against her cheeks and collarbones. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

  He chuckled, breaking the spell, and the air returned to normal. ‘Oh, Lida,’ he mocked. ‘That was far too easy. Two kings, a prince, and two fours. A good hand.’

  She threw her cards at him. ‘Ass.’

  He laughed properly, for the first time in days. ‘That is very probably true.’ He reached across and wrapped his hands around Lida’s wrists, pulling her gently to him. She went willingly, tilting her face up to let him kiss her neck. ‘But you have not burned me yet. So …’

  Lida trembled and closed her eyes.

  ‘Shall I come back later?’

  Tiernan’s voice was cold, and Lorcan leapt to his feet, pulling Lida up with him so quickly that her head spun. Their makeshift tent collapsed in a heap.

  ‘Dar-Oidre?’ Tiernan prompted, his steely hair dripping with water, the mist swirling around his long black coat.

  ‘It was done properly,’ Lorcan answered, his voice defensive.

  Tiernan glanced at Lida. ‘Indeed? I assume you will be seeking the mentors’ permission, as Lida is under twenty years of age.’

  ‘She needs no permission,’ Lorcan said.

  ‘You know the rules. The bed-gift -’ Tiernan stopped abruptly. ‘You did not exchange that gift.’

  ‘No,’ Lorcan agreed.

  Lida frowned.

  Tiernan eyed them both warily. ‘I have had no letter from the Priom-la. It is not an engagement, then.’

  ‘No,’ Lorcan said again, more cheerfully.

  Tiernan rubbed his face. ‘Your mother will skin me alive. Your mother will skin you alive. Are you entirely sure that you have thought this through?’

  Lida rounded on Lorcan. ‘What did you do?’

  He gave a crooked, unsure smile. ‘The gift I gave you cannot be vetoed by my mother.’

  ‘I very much hope that was not the reason it was given,’ Tiernan said sharply.

  ‘I would hope you know me better than to think that,’ Lorcan answered, just as sharply.

  Tiernan exhaled, his nostrils flaring. ‘I will vouch for you, Dar-Oidre, but you might have given me the courtesy of a warning. Even if she approves, your mother will have to fight your father on this.’

  Lorcan examined his hands. ‘I imagine that would have been the case regardless.’ He straightened, and looked Tiernan in the eye. ‘I thank you for your support on this, Tiernan Fisher. For this, and for the many things that have come before it.’

  Something in Tiernan’s stern expression softened. ‘And are you sure?’

  Lida bristled for a moment, thinking he was speaking to Lorcan, but then she noticed that his grey eyes were on her face, and that they were curiously compassionate. She blinked back at him, and realised that he was trying to protect her; he was giving her a way out, should she wish to take it.

  She thought of the posy she had made in the white place, and she knew that she didn’t.

  ‘I am sure,’ she said.

  Tiernan studied her for a moment. ‘Well then,’ he said.

  Lorcan held up his pack. ‘If that is done, can we go?’

  ‘I do not think it quite done, Lorcan Merchant, but yes. We can go. How long have you been here?’

  Lorcan didn’t seem overly chastened, though Lida thought much of it was simple relief at having a way out of the mist. ‘We spent most of yesterday separated,’ he said, wiping the mist from his face with his sleeve. ‘Lida found me last night. We have not moved since.’

  ‘Lucky you stayed put,’ Tiernan said. He pointed with his chin to Lida’s right. ‘The cliffs are ten metres that way.’

  A chill ran down her spine. ‘But I can’t hear the sea!’

  ‘No. The water-mist is Tomas’, but the illae mist is mine. It is like a net, designed to confuse and encase. I would never have cast it, if I knew you were on your way back.’

  ‘No wonder it would not listen,’ Lorcan muttered. ‘How long will it stay?’ He rolled up a blanket and handed it to Lida.

  ‘I stopped casting this morning. The illae should dissipate over the next day or so. The mist may stay until there is proper sun. It has been overcast and rainy, something to do with the storm over Port Royal, we think.’ He glanced at Lorcan. ‘We are not entirely sure, though. We have never done this before.’

  ‘Well, at least you know it works,’ Lida said.

  Tiernan’s eyes flickered to her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We had not realised it would be so strong.’

  They walked for hours. Lida did not know how long exactly, as she had no concept of time, encased in the white with no sun to slide across the sky. It was a difficult journey, with the mist soaking their clothing and obscuring their vision. Each step sent jarring pain through her calves and knees. The worst was when she tripped over a rock and crumpled clumsily down, adding to her bruises as she swore vehemently in a mix of Eilin and Brinnican.

  Tiernan had strung them loosely together with a length of rope to prevent another separation. Lida was in the middle and could barely see Tiernan just four feet in front of her, just his shadow twisting through the white.

  She reached out to Lorcan often, who was following more closely behind her. She felt him draw whenever his anxiety began to overwhelm him and when he could not reach the sky he would lean forward and grab her hand or the damp cotton of her shirt. He’d nestled his mind outside her shield again, and she practised creating images, trying to hold a picture of a clear night scattered with stars, or a bright blue expanse, unmarred by clouds.

  He sent her images back. They were of things they had been missing: a table laden with hot food; one of the huge, sunken bathtubs on the Illarum’s third floor, full of steaming water; her bed, scattered with pillows, morning light filtering through the open window and falling on a floor that Lida was sure had not been so clean the last time she’d seen it.

  Tiernan had brought food and water, but they did not stop to eat. Unfortunately for Lida, it was more of what they’d been eating for longer than she cared to consider: more bread and cheese.

  They came upon the Illarum’s stone border wall so suddenly that Lida almost walked straight into it, lost in her own thoughts and not noticing Tiernan’s abrupt change of direction. In the mist, it loomed tall and forbidding, but she put her cheek to the cold stone as if it were an old friend and laughed.

  ‘Thank the gods,’ Lorcan said fervently, putting his own hand flat against a white brick.

  T
hey followed the wall around to the huge wrought-iron gate. Lida’s tiredness was forgotten as Tiernan pushed back the heavy grille. As they stepped through, the mist lifted and her vision cleared. Before them lay the Illarum, its eye-like windows peering at its returned inhabitants, its redwood doors open in welcome, its handsome asymmetry framed against the backdrop of grey sky. Lorcan sighed in relief and Lida felt the pull of power as he sent his mind up; she watched his shoulders relax, his hands uncurl themselves from anxious fists. It was drizzling, but the rain felt warmer than the mist, and Lida tipped her face back and let the water wash the remnants of the claustrophobic white from her skin.

  She heard the crunch of stone beneath feet and before she could react, she was caught up in a too-tight embrace and a whirl of red hair and the scent of pine. She coughed as the air was squeezed from her lungs.

  ‘Gods, Mikal,’ she managed. ‘Are you trying to make me leave again?’

  He placed her back on her feet. ‘I will prescribe bed rest, so you cannot.’ He studied her, grinning. ‘I heard you met Aaron.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ she said, grimacing.

  ‘You did not mind so much at first,’ Lorcan said.

  ‘And I heard that you changed your mind about Bronwyn,’ Mikal said to Lorcan, his smile widening. ‘A spring wedding, perhaps. Your father will weep with joy.’

  ‘Brinnican gossip,’ Jakob said, shaking his head and giving Lida a more subdued hug. ‘There is such a quantity, you would expect more of it to be true.’

  Lorcan deftly undid the rope at his waist and threw his arms around his brother. Jakob was still thin, but looked far healthier and stronger than the last time Lida had seen him. His eyes were bright as he laughed, ruffling Lorcan’s wet hair. Tiernan helped Lida with the rope, then walked to the Illarum, pausing only to briefly brush his hand over Lorcan’s shoulder.

  ‘Tiernan,’ Lida called to him. He turned back. ‘Thank you.’