WHO Fairytales and Merlin WHEN Monday evening WHERE Merlin’s library WHAT Dreamwalking WARNINGS dream bad things
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
The two of them stood in Merlin’s library, and Elaine paced back and forth, bare feet on the wooden floor. Merlin watched her, anticipating her answer.
“I must, I must try,” she said, wringing her hands. She had taken to wearing mostly green of late, and today she wore a tunic and leggings, which Merlin privately thought made her look like a panto Peter Pan, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“I have to go through her dreams, it’s the only way,” she was saying, and Merlin let out a short sigh.
“You keep saying that. I’m still not entirely sure what you’re going to achieve by it.”
"I will find her!" Elaine replied, waving a hand at him.
“Maybe. But all you have is a dream metaphor and a vague place. How do you know it’ll even work?”
“I know in my heart.” She was starting to feel a bit annoyed by his prodding, and shot him a scowl.
Merlin shrugged. "I'm just playing devil's advocate."
"Well don't! I don't need a devil on my shoulder, I need the potion you brewed and I need you to anchor me, as we agreed." Elaine gave him such a fierce expression that Merlin chuckled and held out the potion as ordered.
Taking the vial, Elaine went to the chaise lounge and settled herself comfortably. “I’m trusting you,” she said, looking up at Merlin. The wizard sat down in a nearby armchair and set a book in his lap, then muttered a spell to link himself to her. He was there to stop her drifting too far off course into the dreamspace. It had happened before to unwary astral travellers to become lost and not return.
“Just let me know if you need help,” he said, putting his reading glasses on. Elaine nodded, and drank.
***
She is standing in a void, except, not a void- when she starts walking, she can see the texture of white clouds. The more she walks, the more the clouds become corporeal, and she starts to see breaks in them, through which she can see a dark sky and bright stars.
Marian.
The name comes from her mouth like a breeze, and she gathers herself to focus. Somewhere, her friend is out there. She reaches into her chest and tugs on a heart string, and a gold thread spans out before her, taut and vibrating. Holding onto it, the clouds start to rush past, and her feet fly across the soft, dewy ground.
The clouds slide into rainbow colours, turning to cotton candy mist, through which she can see grey trees. Her feet, she realises, are walking on grass, and she goes on. There is that boulder with the nick in it. There is that broken tree branch. She is being lead inwards, to the heart of the wood, and the scream of a hawk sounds overhead.
Dreamspace is not trustworthy. Trees flicker and warp, moving around between gusts of mist. Above, the sky is clear day, and then it is stormy night, and then overcast sunrise with blood red streaks painting the clouds. The grass remains dewy and cool. She starts to notice a darkness in the corner of her eye, something that escapes true examination if she tries to look straight at it. Something lurks around the edges, something cruel.
Marian!
She calls out, her voice a warped echo. Sound is stolen, deadened by the mist, and echoes from odd places. Before her, finally, there is a clearing. The Major Oak, an image she has imprinted very well on her memory from her days bent over her tapestry, juts upwards and outwards in a tangle, branches creaking in a wind she can’t feel. At the base of the tree sits a woman with her back to Elaine, dressed only in a plain white shift, red hair tumbling over her shoulders. The darkness in the edges of her vision tightens and draws in, and Elaine hisses at it, asserts her power.
You will not come near.
It draws back, but it is not gone, not by a long shot. She steps forward into the shadow of the tree, and reaches out a hand to touch the woman’s shoulder.