Dream Shaper

Dream Shaper

SARSENTS IS WHAT we are called, Norden said.

Fools would be a better name, Runolf said as he set a plate of food in Hyndla’s lap. I trust all your people are not as unthinking as you are.

Norden stood and stomped to where the cooked remains of a hedge-hider was lying by the fire. Grabbing a piece, he turned his back on them as he ate.

Runolf, Hyndla said quietly, he feels bad enough already. You cannot scold him over and over for what was an accident.

I am not angry with him about the accident. He sat beside her and balanced another wooden plate on his knees. He was a fool to panic at the rattle of a bush, but anyone can make a mistake.

Then why are you chastising him still?

You really don’t know, do you?

With care, she reached for a piece of meat. Her fingers could bend, but they were stiffer than she had expected. They closed just above the food. When Runolf picked it up and placed it in her mouth, she smiled her thanks as she chewed. Only when she had swallowed the juicy tidbit did she reply, No, I really don’t know why you are berating him this morning.

He cupped her chin in his hand. Tilting her face toward him, he whispered, It is because I am so angry that he had to interrupt us when he did last night.

When he did?

When I was going to do this... His mouth brushed hers.

She pulled back, shocked. Are you out of your mind?

For kissing you? He kept her from looking away by curving his hand along her cheek. Is it because no other man has?

I have no intention of answering such a question.

Has no other man taken note of your soft, red hair? he asked as if she had not spoken. Has no other man dared to confront the emotions in your dark brown eyes? Has no other man admired your glorious curves? Could it be simply that you have been ignored because of your height?

You are making assumptions.

Am I? He took the plate and set it aside as he had last night. Gripping her shoulders, he drew her closer. His eyes glittered as he whispered, Let me determine that for myself.

Other books in J.A. Ferguson’s Dream Chronicle series

Dream Singer

Dream Shaper

Dream Master

Dream Traveler

Dream Seeker

Dream Shaper

by

J.A. Ferguson

ImaJinn Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

ImaJinn Books

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Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-576-8

Print ISBN: 978-1-893896-10-9

ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2000 by Jo Ann Ferguson writing as J.A. Ferguson

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

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Cover design: Deborah Smith

Interior design: Hank Smith

Photo/Art credits:

Art © M. C. Krauss

:Asdc: 01:

One

HYNDLA SHENVIRL held her breath. She had waited for this moment all day.

Slowly she raised the bow to sight an arrow on the four-legged beast rushing between the trees on a path that would bring the fleet runner within easy range. Hunting had become scarce on the side of this mountain as more weary people came to answer the call to help the Tiria force the Elasians out of Gayome. So many stomachs to fill. So few to hunt when every able-bodied warrior was needed to patrol the forest beyond the holder’s house where the Tiria had her headquarters.

The war was going poorly.

Hyndla tried to ignore that thought, but the facts refused to be denied. The Elasians had invaded Gayome more than four seasons before. Winter had waned, come once more, then waned again, and still the Elasians prowled Gayome, their faces with the skeletal tattoos as frightening as a mad dreamsinger’s song. The invaders had tried to find where the Tiria and her allies were hiding, but without success.

Yet the Tiria’s allies were still too few to confront the Elasians in battle. The Elasians continued to hold the northern half of Gayome, including the northern woods and the section of the Ring Mountains surrounding the city of Teles.

If only the Elasians would return over the Ring Mountains to their own horrible realm...

Hyndla concentrated on the runner, waiting for it to come closer. The war would not be ended today. Today, they needed this meat as well as the hide which could be tanned to make shoes or trousers.

She drew back the arrow, holding her breath. The string twanged like a harp string as the arrow flew through the trees. The runner shrieked out its dying breath when the arrow struck it. It took two more steps, then fell into the fresh spring undergrowth.

Hyndla leaped to her feet and ran forward. Once gutted, the runner would be hung in the courtyard of the holder’s estate where the Tiria and her allies lived. Then soon, it would be supper. Her mouth watered at the thought.

A screech rang through the trees.

She dropped into the brush, flat against the still cool ground. A forest cat! Its cry was unmistakable. Where was it? Many beasts roamed the forest, but only the most foolhardy would fail to respect the powerful claws and hunting skill of a forest cat.

A flash of golden-brown rippled through the trees. She cursed. The forest cat was headed right toward the downed runner! She jumped to her feet and pulled her knife. She had been hunting too long today to let that forest cat steal the runner she had shot.

She did not hesitate. She might be risking her life, but this was her kill! Let the forest cat find its own supper.

With a screech of her own, she propelled herself into the clearing where the runner lay in its own blood. Her raised knife was ready to cut into the forest cat. Let it learn that Hyndla Shenvirl did not give up what was hers.

Hyndla skidded to a halt and stared at a man who was squatting beside her prey.

Did you see where it went? she cried.

The man faced her, his face taut with fury, and his lips drawn back in a snarl. Where what went?

The forest cat. Did you see where it went?

When he pushed himself up from the ground, she stared. She had not guessed while he knelt that he was taller than she was. It was as if he were coming toward her from a distance at the same time as he stood. She blinked, sure her eyes were deceiving her. Since she had gained her full height just past her 16th summer, she had never seen anyone taller than she was. His ebony hair drifted down upon the shoulders of a tunic shiny from long wear. His deep-set green-gold eyes drew her gaze from the raw, sharp planes of his face. She never had seen a face quite like his, for it possessed a refined savagery that hinted at stronger emotions than those glowing in his eyes.

I did not see a forest cat, he said.

If you did, you probably would be dead. She frowned when she saw he carried no weapon other than the small blade in the belt of his light brown tunic. Maybe he had another hidden in his cross-gartered green leggings or beneath the shirt of the same shade that was visible at the tunic’s deep neckline. She had learned through hard lessons not to believe that all was as it appeared.

He laughed, amazing her, for the deep sound seemed to soar on the spring wind. I am woods-wise enough to know that.

Then you should be woods-wise enough to know that you do not try to butcher another hunter’s prey.

Butcher?

Hyndla pointed to the red splotch on his sleeve. That is fresh blood.

But not from your beast. He folded his arms in front of him so the bloody spot was directly before her eyes. Check it, if you doubt me, woman. The only cut into the runner is from your arrow. He gave a snort. The arrow that might have been in my heart if I had not leaped aside.

I did not see you.

I saw you.

Then you should have seen that I was about to fire on the runner.

I did not suspect you would let the arrow fly when I was within its range.

Hyndla unstrung her bow and settled it over her shoulder. She must not delay any longer gutting the runner. The arrow did not strike you, so you can continue on your way.

When there is a forest cat about? His question was taunting. Do you always consign strangers to travel in the path of such a predator?

Hyndla knelt, drawing out her knife. Jest if you wish, stranger, but you are not needed here. The meat of this runner already has mouths waiting for it.

Many mouths?

Enough so that no meat will be wasted. She cursed herself silently. By the first song, would she ever learn to hesitate before she gave voice to the thoughts in her head? No stranger should know how close he stood to the Tiria’s small band of allies. This man might be an Elasian sympathizer here to spy on them, or worse. The only thing she could imagine worse would be an Elasian, but they could not challenge her height as this man did.

With quick, deep cuts of her knife, she split open the runner and removed the poisonous entrails, tossing them aside. If the forest cat returned, it could have a feast, for the innards would not sicken the beast. She lashed the runner’s legs together with a rope she carried in her quiver for such a purpose. Sheathing her knife, she stood, hefting the runner onto her shoulders.

The stranger arched a dark brow. How far do you plan to carry that beast like that?

To where I must.

I would help in exchange for a share of the meat.

That is not necessary. The weight of the runner was grinding down into her shoulders, but she refused to show any sign of weakness before this man. He might then try to steal her catch.

Will you at least offer me some information?

Hyndla fought knees that were threatening to buckle. Giving away information now is not a wise thing.

You speak as one who has suffered directly in the war.

An easy guess when there must be few in Gayome who have not. She took a step toward the trees.

The man matched her pace.

What do you want? she asked.

He smiled coolly. A dangerous question for a woman who is alone in the forest.

How do you know I am alone? She wanted to pull her knife to show him that she would not be taunted. She could not. Not when she was holding this dreamless beast on her shoulders. Or was that what he wished? If she set the runner down, he could snatch it and try to flee. It would be futile, because he would not get far before she caught him and made him sorry he had tried to steal her runner.

I honestly hope you are not alone, he replied, his voice as low as the breeze playing with the new leaves.

What do you mean? She shifted the runner. Its spine was biting into her shoulders.

I had hoped you might know where to find the Tiria (May she live forever!) and her allies.

Hyndla flinched in spite of herself. It had once been as natural to speak that blessing after the Tiria’s name as to breathe. How long had it been since she last had heard anyone address Nerienne in that manner? Nerienne was the Tiria. No one contested that, save the Elasians who wished to see her dead and her claim on Gayome ended. Necessity had changed many customs, leaving some forgotten.

Setting the runner back on the ground, she put her foot on the carcass and looked at the stranger. Again she found it curious to raise her eyes to meet another’s when she was standing. Why do you want to find her?

I need to speak with her.

Hyndla frowned and eyed the man up and down. Why? About what?

Are you her advisor that you dare to ask such a question and keep me from speaking with her?

I will give you some advice, stranger. You will win no allies here by angering everyone you meet. She put her hand on the haft of her knife. I asked you a question which you never answered.

Odd, I was about to say the same thing.

I am glad I could save you the trouble of having to say that. Why not use the breath you have been wasting on this aimless conversation and answer my question?

His golden eyes narrowed. You are glib. You may be an advisor, after all.

Hyndla would not let him goad her into doing something she would regret. I learned long ago that, in the right circumstances, words can be as worthy a weapon as any blade.

In the right circumstances. He took a step toward her. And in the right circumstances, words can be the difference between knowledge and ignorance. I have something that I wish the Tiria (May she live forever!) to hear, something she will be eager to hear. Putting his foot on the haunch of the dead runner, he smiled. You have no reason to trust me. Yet, on the other hand, I have given you no reason to distrust me. Like you, I am far from my home, driven out by the Elasian scourge. Like you, I wish to see them gone from Gayome. Like you, I hunger for the taste of vengeance which would be even sweeter than freshly cooked runner meat. He stood straighter, his hands dangling at his sides. If you know the way, take me to the Tiria (May she live forever!).

Hyndla laughed. You accuse me of being garrulous, but you have honed your skill with words.

That is no answer to my request.

You are right. I have no reason to trust you. Some Gayomians have aligned themselves with the Elasians. She chuckled again. Much to their detriment.

Maybe this will convince you that I am no ally of the Elasians. He knelt and drew up the left leg of his trousers.

Hyndla gasped as she stared at the dark blue scar that ran nearly from his knee to the boot reaching just above his ankle. She had seen many wounds and tended to some of them herself, watching for healing. She even bore some scars. And the crescent-shaped mark inside her right elbow she believed was a birthmark, although her foster mother had said it was a sign of good luck. But only one thing left a scar that shade of blue on the stranger’s leg—an Elasian persuader. The horrible tool was used in the interrogation of a recalcitrant prisoner who had information the Elasians wanted. To say that it burned was like comparing the sparse heat of a campfire to the power of the sun.

He stood, shaking his pant leg back into place. I thought you would recognize it.

When were you captured?

His lips drew back in that feral expression as he snarled, It does not matter, for I escaped, leaving my surviving captors to wish they had never seen me. Now will you take me to the Tiria (May she live forever!)?

Come. I will take you to her. Hyndla tapped her blade. You need to remember that she has many allies who will gladly release the blood of anyone who would do her harm.

I would be a fool to think otherwise, and I am no fool.

Hyndla bent to pick up the runner, but the stranger hoisted it to his shoulders.

Do not think to steal my kill, she said.

"You know these woods far better than I. You should guard our route while we seek out your allies, for you would recognize what was amiss among these trees."

She could not argue with that. Motioning for him to come along, she stepped beneath the trees. She watched for him to follow. He did. Maybe he was being honest, but she doubted that. No one dared to be completely honest when the line between friend and foe was not a constant thing, always moving as some set aside their loyalties to save their lives.

The man was woods-wise, she noted. He walked with a smooth stealth that she had struggled to learn when she first began to hunt. Her foster father had doubted she would ever acquire the ability to slither through the forest, leaving no sign of her passage other than her scent.

The throb of grief was no less strong simply because it was so familiar. Her foster father and the rest of her family—and the neighbors who had accepted her as one of them, even though she had not been born in that village—all of them were dead. The Elasians had swept over the village, slaying everything that breathed. She had heard the screams of the dying and of those who longed for death while enduring the Elasian torture.

Only she had escaped because she had been preparing for her journey to the Tiria’s compound. She had planned to offer herself into service as one of the Tiria’s elite guards, but had heard of the Tiria’s death and seen the Elasians’ destruction of her compound. Returning to her own village with all due speed, she had been too late to save anyone but herself. She vowed not to die without savoring her vengeance against the hideously tattooed invaders.

Then she would seek the truth of why she was different from everyone else in her village. The truth must lie somewhere along the Mirror Lake, for she had been found near there as a child and taken into her foster family’s home to live with their children.

A low hiss behind her brought Hyndla back to this time and place. She looked back and saw the stranger’s eyes were wide with amazement. She smiled. Nerienne had chosen sagely when she selected this abandoned holder’s house for her own compound. It might not be as glorious as her late mother’s, but it served this Tiria well.

The holder’s house had been built to be invisible to anyone who did not look closely. The walls were covered with lichen, but were strong. Painting on the wooden gate, that was no wider than a single person, suggested it was composed of tree trunks instead of iron. The whole compound seemed, on a cursory glance, to be part of the unbroken forest. One could walk right past it without noticing the walls.

I have never seen its like, the stranger said.

Nor had I. So many things I have seen that I could not have imagined before I left my village.

Who built it?

We do not know. She smiled as she opened the gate. Maybe it was put here by the Eldest Ones for our use.

Or raised from the very flesh of the ground by the Tiria (May she live forever!).

Hyndla laughed. She can do many things, but I doubt she can do that.

You doubt the skills of your Tiria (May she live forever!)?

She ducked through the gate, then took the carcass from him, so he could do the same. Calling out to a group of lads, she handed them the carcass and told them to hang it so it could be butchered on the morrow. Then she turned back to the stranger. Again, as she had before, she was startled to look up into his eyes.

I do not doubt the Tiria’s skills, she said, for I have seen her use her gifts from the Eldest Ones to protect her people. It is simply that I have been honored to come to know her well.

Know her well? The Tiria (May she live forever!) lives in seclusion and—

Hyndla knew she should not laugh at his assumptions that Nerienne had been unchanged when the rest of Gayome had been torn apart by the Elasians. She could not halt herself. When his dark brows lowered, she said, Come with me and judge for yourself.

This time she did not look back. She knew he would follow as she led him past the byres within the wall and toward the tall house that looked as if it were a stand of ancient trees growing closely together.

The people in the courtyard between the outer wall and the house within froze as they stared at Hyndla and the man who was walking with her. She watched as heads tilted toward each other, and the buzz of whispers sounded like a hive of angry bees.

It appears the fact that you are no longer unique here is upsetting to your allies, the man said. Or is it that you get few strangers here?

Travel has been difficult during the cold months.

Because the Elasians have cut off the routes through Gayome?

As well as because the Elasians have cut off the heads of those who try to travel far through Gayome.

He shrugged. Those who dearly wish to be somewhere will find a way to get there. He paused and gazed around. Apparently many others share my belief about that, for they have come to offer their services to the Tiria (May she live forever!).

Hyndla looked about as if she were the newcomer. Their numbers, although more than at this time last year, were still few. However, the courtyard was busy with those who practiced skills with a sword or a bow. The animals in the pens were well-tended. Children played a game near where their mothers were doing laundry. The gentle odor of baking bread drifted toward them, and her mouth watered. Bread was more of a luxury than meat. The flour that had been found in the storerooms of this house must be nearly gone, and there was little hope of obtaining more because the fields of Gayome lay fallow.

She went into the house, lowering her head with the ease of habit. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the stranger almost walked into the stone lintel above the door. He grumbled something under his breath as he ducked.

Where are you from? she asked.

East of the Hollow River.

East?

Yes.

He added nothing else, and she did not ask. It had been silly to think this tall man might have answers to her past. The Hollow River, it was said, emptied into the Mirror Lake and was leagues from here. If he had traveled from that distant place, he could have much information for Nerienne.

Inside, the house seemed as much a part of the forest as the exterior. Green walls were laced with vines. Blossoms peeked from among the leaves hanging from the ceiling. At one side of the long hallway, a pool was an emerald jewel beneath a glass roof. Climbing the steps that seemed to be cut out of the ground rather than built within a house, Hyndla smiled when she heard the soft sounds of frogs around the pool.

You have beasts within the hall? asked the man.

It would seem so, although no one has actually seen the frogs in here. We only hear them. She paused at the top of the stairs. We hear birds as well, but there is no sign of them within the house.

Aren’t you curious about how the sounds are created?

Extremely, but no one has discovered the truth.

Even the Tiria (May she live forever!)?

Hyndla faced him. She has had other matters to concern her.

For what she suspected was the first time, his smile was genuine. He remained silent, and she went to knock on the door that led to Nerienne’s rooms.

It is Hyndla, she replied to the call from within. Opening the door and glancing over her shoulder, she added, It is Hyndla, Tiria (May you live forever!).

Hyndla was not surprised that Nerienne stiffened as she stood, for no one within the compound addressed her so formally. The sunlight glittered like spun silver off the Tiria’s waist-length hair. Around her neck she wore a pendant with stones nearly the same shade as her brilliant blue eyes. At her waist hung a small black shell.

Hyndla smiled. Bidge must be sleeping, but certainly the small creature that always was close to Nerienne would awaken to listen to this discussion. Nobody had ever seen anything quite like Bidge, with her silver fur and single foot that held her to Nerienne’s tunic belt. The Tiria communicated with Bidge through thoughts that only Nerienne’s mate, Durgan Ketassian, was also privy to.

Noting an odd grayness of the Tiria’s face, Hyndla’s smile vanished. Was Nerienne ill again? She had kept to herself in this room for the past week, seldom venturing out among her people.

Nerienne gave no sign of weakness as she looked past Hyndla to the man entering the room. He dropped to his knees, then prostrated himself on the stone floor. Yet Hyndla noticed that he was peering around his outstretched arms to determine more about this room and who was in it.

Tiria (May you live forever), I am yours, he said correctly. Use me as you and the Eldest Ones deem necessary to regain Gayome for the Gayomians.

Rise, Nerienne replied, lowering herself back into her chair.

When Hyndla took a step forward as Nerienne wobbled on that simplest of motions, Nerienne waved her away. Hyndla clasped her hands behind her back. She must not betray Nerienne by making the stranger more aware of this unknown infirmity.

Hyndla stared at the bluestones around Nerienne’s neck. The lifestones could heal, but Nerienne would use them only for others, not for herself. Yet, if Nerienne sickened, those who had withstood the Elasian advance might lose heart for the battles still to come.

The man came slowly to his feet. I am Runolf Tocho. He bowed his head again. I am here to serve in the battle against the Elasians.

Welcome. Nerienne put out her hand. "We welcome