Good Night Read online

  Repeat after me: I swear my allegiance to Ambien for all my suns. I will do all in my power to further his ambitions and expand his kingdom. I will allow nothing to thwart me in this pursuit. This is my solemn vow.

  Like the puppet he was, he repeated it word for word, sealing it into the core of his thoughts, then lost consciousness. Alfreda hadn’t put him to sleep nor would she weave any dreams for him this night, but he would rest. He’d need it, for he would not be permitted more rest until he tracked down that sibling of his. Again.

  I wouldn’t tell Alfreda what I’d done, lest she search for the seed in hopes of ferreting it out, but I’d won his allegiance and he was mine to command with or without her. I grinned at the perfectness of it. A prince of Wake realm itself, assisting me.

  I stooped and lifted Alfreda, laying her beside her sister on the moss. I allowed myself a moment of peace as I stroked her raven hair. Both of them were precious and beautiful to me. They were my offspring after all. I sought a good future for them, though they could not yet see it. I only hoped they would support my cause in the end.

  On my way out, I stopped by Morfran. “Alfreda knew where her charge was. See that she gets him to Sanis, the last town Alissandra was spotted in, post haste. Then ensure he tracks his sibling.”

  “Yes, my liege. It shall be done. What would you like us to do with your other daughter?”

  “Hold her. I don’t want her telling everyone where we are. Shackles are unnecessary unless she becomes unruly, which I do not expect. Procure clean bandages, but if she needs more attention from a healer, notify me immediately.”

  “It shall be done.”

  “No!” I shouted, waking myself.

  Kovis stirred on his blanket a span away—only four handbreadths, but it might as well have been the next village. “You okay?”

  What was I supposed to tell him? No. My nightmares are worse without your arms around me making me feel like nothing could ever hurt me? Or, you’ve no idea how much I miss your flirting, tickling, and teasing. Or, I long for the intimacy we shared. They were all true. But if I told him any of those things, I knew what would happen. Kovis would freeze up. He’d at least taken to talking again, but every time I hinted at closeness, he distanced himself.

  Since our falling out, he’d discovered what I’d always known but hadn’t divulged, that we didn’t have to kiss for him to sleep—as long as we touched, even in passing, he’d sleep.

  The only hope I had for restoring our physical closeness was that we still held hands all night. It was the only way he could dream. He hadn’t wanted to at the start, but he found that not dreaming left his mind restless. He’d relented after that. His dreams were not peaceful judging by his thrashing, but he reported that if he dreamed, his mind was clear while awake. Our bond, however, was silent, even as we slept. For better or worse, I had no visibility to what he dreamed. As his former sand maiden, it was the toughest potion to take.

  “I’m fine. Just another bad dream.”

  Kovis nodded and rolled back over, still holding my hand.

  My nightmare had been of Father torturing and controlling the sand people who stewarded Haylan’s, Hulda’s, and Jathan’s dreams. I’d no idea who those folks might be, but my mind had no trouble imagining appalling scenarios. We’d had no news on whether Father had left them alone at The Ninety-Eight, but at the rate folks were being possessed, I shuddered to think what my friends might be going through, no different than Kennan.

  I wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, so I forced my mind back to the problem of returning to Dream. I’d tried to will us back to Dream like I thought Velma had in order to send me, but nothing happened no matter how many times I’d tried. Somehow, I had missed some critical step, but I had no idea what. So I’d abandoned it in the end.

  Of late, I’d been replaying my dance with Father during the winter solstice ball. I well remembered soaring higher than I'd ever danced, so high that the citizens below looked like gnats. Father had grinned as we approached the dream canopy.

  Excitement had welled up in me knowing it was what I reached my thoughts out to every night. But as we soared into the cloudy layer, dizziness had assaulted my head. I couldn’t tell which way was up or down. Father had steadied me, but my vertigo hadn’t relented until we’d descended to just below the canopy.

  Dream and Wake were reciprocal in their territories, and I’d reasoned out that the dizziness had to have been the result of being stuck in the space between Dream and Wake where things were right side up or upside down depending on where you approached from. I’d never experienced that disorientation as I reached out to my charges because I wasn’t physically there, only my thoughts. And it made sense that things might be awry. I wished I’d held on a bit longer during that dance just to see if we emerged into the skies above Wake. I theorized we’d have to have.

  My theory was all well and good, but I’d hit a snag. If we somehow used our Air magic to soar that high, what would happen when we emerged into Dream. Dream didn’t have magic, and I speculated we’d lose ours in the process if we experienced the reverse of what I had when I came to Wake. And who knew what would happen to our bodies. We’d plummet to our deaths if we didn’t sprout wings. I couldn’t risk it on a hope that we’d be able to fly.

  All that work and reasoning and I’d resisted throwing it away and starting over. But in this heartbeat as I refocused on what was most important, I finally let it go. We had to get back to Dream and soon.

  I pulled my cape tighter but saw my breath in the firelight. There was only one remedy to the freezing temperatures—I tucked my head under the blanket. At least the supplies we’d bought were staving off most of the freeze. I had no idea where to even begin finding another way back, so I let my mind wander. Velma had worked through the creation myth to find a way. What other stories touched on going to Dream or Wake? There were fairy tales I’d heard as a child. I furrowed my brow. Fairy tales… Fairy tales…

  My mind took off at a trot and quickly raced full out. There was a story about Porta, the tallest peak in Dream. Might it be more than a scary tale? It told of all manner of monsters entering Dream realm through it. Some believed it to be true and maintained the peak was a connection with Hades itself, allowing all that was bad to enter the realm. Dream had been perfect before that. But evil by its very nature wanted to destroy what was good. I’d hated listening to this tale. It always set goose pimples on my arms, but desperate as I was, I forced myself to review the parts of the story I could remember.

  Once upon a time… my mind replayed the tale. There were two brothers, one rich, the other poor. The rich brother had more than he or his family could ever want or desire. Despite his overabundance, the rich brother would not share with the poor brother who eked out a subsistence living—many sunsets his family had naught to eat, so poor was he, despite working diligently.

  Then one sunrise, as the poor brother was soaring over the path he always flew, he noticed an unfamiliar sight ahead. A slender mountain had risen up, and great was the height thereof. So strange was the sight that he could only land, stop, and stare.

  While he was thus gazing, he heard others approaching. Not knowing the nature of these beings, he hid in the trees, but gained a vantage point so he could see what happened. Three burly beings with large, raven wings swooped and landed on the path and soon stopped before the mountain.

  “Mighty mountain, mighty mountain, open up!” the three cried in unison.

  In a heartbeat, a crack of light appeared top to bottom from within the mountain as it opened wide, and the three men went inside.

  The poor brother barely stifled a gasp as the mountain closed again. Curiosity held him in place atop his perch, and a short while later, he heard the mountain rumble again. It opened, and the three beings strode out with sacks upon their backs.

  Once outside, they turned and cried, “Mighty mountain, mighty mountain, shut thyself!”

  The mountain closed and there was no longer
an entrance to be seen. The trio took flight, vanishing against the clear sky.

  When the poor brother could no longer see or hear them, he shimmied down from the tree and approached the mountain to see if he could ascertain where the opening was and what it had given them.

  After careful search, he could find no entrance, so he stepped back and cried, “Mighty mountain, mighty mountain, open up!”

  As it had before, the ground trembled as the mountain opened. He cautiously stepped inside, and after going a short way, he found himself in a room with gold, silver, and great piles of pearls and precious stones heaped like grain. It sparkled in the light.

  The poor brother hardly knew what to do, so excited was he, and debated whether he might take some to ease his situation—food so his children’s bellies were full, a repaired roof, grain in the barn. He was not greedy. At length he pocketed some gold and silver but left the pearls and precious stones, which were far more valuable.

  He walked back outside and turned. “Mighty mountain, mighty mountain, shut thyself!” And it did.

  His heart was light as he took flight toward home, feeling some measure of the burden that had been weighing heavily, lighten. His wife would rejoice with him.

  In time, despite hard work and toil, the money ran out. Hoping the mysterious but miraculous mountain remained, he borrowed a bucket from his rich brother and went in search of it again. He joyed when it came into view and again filled his container but did not touch the most valuable treasures. Returning home, he celebrated with a glad heart.

  When the not-quite-as-poor brother again needed money, he went to his rich brother to make a request to borrow his bucket once more. The rich man, having noticed the inexplicable change in his brother’s situation, had grown curious, if not envious. He decided to find out what his brother had done to improve his lot, so he put a spot of pitch on the bottom of the bucket before handing it over.

  When the not-as-poor brother returned the container, his rich brother saw a silver coin stuck on the bottom and asked, “What have you been using my bucket for?”

  “What does it matter?”

  The rich brother pulled the coin from the bottom and demanded he tell him or threatened to turn him over to the magistrate if he refused. So the poorer brother told him everything, just how it had happened.

  Once his brother left, the rich brother journeyed to where his brother had said and also found the mysterious but miraculous mountain.

  But he’d been too caught up in the possibilities of treasure and hadn’t listened well. “Miraculous mountain, miraculous mountain, open up!” he called, but nothing happened. “Mysterious mountain, mysterious mountain, open up!” he tried, but alas the mountain did not move.

  He stood staring at the mammoth mountain, racking his thoughts for the proper command. Magnificent, majestic, melodious, and more he tried to no avail. In desperation, he yelled, “Mighty mountain, mighty mountain, open up!” He nearly fainted when the ground began trembling and the face split open.

  He hurried inside, and it shut behind him, but he cared not for the sight before him made all thoughts flee. He marveled for some time, not knowing which treasure to take first. In the end, he loaded up some of each—pearls, precious stones, gold, and silver—until his pockets and arms brimmed over. When he could carry no more, he turned and tried to remember the command to open the mountain once more, but try as he might, his memory failed him. He sat down dejectedly, for he realized his treasure was worthless if he could not leave.

  That sunset, the mountain opened and the three beings his poor brother had first seen entered. “Little bird, you have become trapped by your greed,” they admonished. “This mountain was set here to care for the needy, and we with it, but you have stolen for your benefit alone, with malice in your heart. You are greedy and wicked, and because you came with treachery in your heart, you shall lose it. But more, you have desecrated the purity of this mountain. So from this sun on, evil shall come forth into your land.”

  Despite the rich brother’s supplications, the three beings grabbed him and cut out his heart, and to this sun, malevolent, vile, and destructive beings found their way into the world, treading the path of evil this brother sowed.

  I shivered as I always did at the tale’s conclusion, and it wasn’t from the frigid air. Mares were definitely part of the creatures that had found their way into Dream thanks to this greedy bastard. At least if the story was to be believed. But rather than focusing on the end as I usually did, I took a step back in my mind.

  I’d flown over Porta not long ago on my way to Father’s. Could it be an entrance to Dream for more than undesirable beasts? I wouldn’t dwell on the manner of creatures that no doubt still roamed its depths. But might it be the possibility we sought? My heart raced the more I considered. Dream and Wake were reciprocal. Porta had to have an opposite in Wake. But where? I prayed Kovis knew.

  Part II: Wake

  Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

  By Jane Taylor

  Essex Wake Realm

  Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

  How I wonder what you are.

  Up above the world so high,

  Like a diamond in the sky.

  Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

  How I wonder what you are!

  When the blazing sun is gone,

  When he nothing shines upon,

  Then you show your little light,

  Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

  Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

  How I wonder what you are!

  Then the traveler in the dark,

  Thanks you for your tiny spark;

  He could not see which way to go,

  If you did not twinkle so.

  Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

  How I wonder what you are!

  Ali was excited, and her theory for getting to Dream bubbled out the heartbeat I woke. For the first time, there was certainty in her voice as she spoke about how to get there, and despite the state of our relationship, I hadn’t been able to hold back a smile. She was proud of herself for figuring this puzzle out, as she should have been.

  I’d sensed she’d been close to a solution. It hadn’t been easy to be patient when so much lay in the balance, but I’d admonished myself that harping wouldn’t help her discover a way any sooner. Worries that snow would fly and we’d still not have a breakthrough, had become my constant companion. If that possibility materialized, I wasn’t sure how we would cope—we’d have to hold up somewhere or risk exposure. Our purchases in Sanis had prolonged the possibility, but every sun we remained in Wake made the need to shelter in one place all the greater as winter closed in. And we both knew that risk. It was a recipe for discovery.

  The other worry that had been dogging me was that Kennan would come to harm the longer we delayed. I had no doubt Ambien was forcing Alfreda to make him search for us. And he would continue to do so despite inhospitable weather. I knew Kennan—at least the part unrelated to that kiss—and I knew he was doing everything in his power to lead Ambien astray. But he’d be out in the freezing cold and snow. My brother’s life was in our hands, and I would not fail him.

  Concerns aside, Ali’s possibility brought the first bright spot to my reality in suns. Hearing that she and my twin had shared a passionate kiss had turned my world upside down. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It had wrenched my heart. I didn’t want to know more; I doubted I ever would. It would only drive the knife deeper, to know she’d lusted after him. I shook my head. I needed to focus on this possibility, not the past.

  “You mentioned Wake and Dream are reciprocal,” I said.

  Ali nodded from where she stood, clearly too excited to sit.

  “So we need to figure out where this Porta mountain is in Wake.”

  Another nod. “I hope your tutors drilled you in geography.”

  I chuckled. “You’ve no idea. But you’re correct, I know the territories of Wake.” I reversed the letters of Porta—
Atrop, or what I presumed was the peak’s equivalent here—and shook my head. “I don’t know of a mountain by that name.”

  Ali gave me a hard look. “But there has to be.”

  “I’m not saying there isn’t. I just don’t know where it is.” I sighed.

  “Well, where is Lemnos’s reciprocal in Wake? It’s got to be there.”

  Lemnos, Ali’s home. I reversed the letters. “Wait! Sonmel Island?”

  “What?”

  I rose and put a hand to my head. “There are stories about that place. Some say it’s haunted.”

  “Are they true?”

  “No idea, I’ve never been.”

  “So you know where it is?”

  “It’s out in the Naegea Sea.” My mind buzzed. “Do you suppose the stories might be a means of concealing a door to Dream?”

  Ali met my gaze. “It makes sense. And gives my theory all the more credibility.” She beamed.

  “Yes… it does.” I exhaled loudly. “We’ll need to cross The Canyon to get there.”

  “Will that be a problem? Nomarch Kett said they crossed it on the way to Flumen.”

  “For insorcelled, its nothing. For sorcerers, it might be a different story because it’s the source of our power.”

  Ali raised an eyebrow. She still hadn’t granted me that her power stemmed from that canyon, though she couldn’t disprove it either.

  I held up a hand. “Fine, it is the source of my power at least. I’ve never crossed it, but I can only imagine that I’ll feel something because of it.”

  “Hulda and Haylan told me about winter solstice. They said The Canyon belches out its overflow of energy in a lightning storm and every sorcerer feels like they’re on a high.” Her eyes sparkled.

  I nodded. “Yes, I’m guessing it’s a similar feeling. I just hope it isn’t so strong that it overloads me.”

  “Too much of a good thing?”

  “Exactly.”