Chapter 3

Months before:

Pen leant forward over the veranda wall, her elbows resting on the smooth top and her clenched fists under her chin. Her green eyes surveyed that which surrounded her. Beyond the three foot wall was just the vast green lands of her home. The river-lands were woven into by silver lace, tinted with silver light near the ends. The sun was low in the magenta sky, and falling slowly into the black pool of the horizon. Some clouds hung near the edges, making a hem of violet and lilac, smoked with indigo.
By day, there were farm carts and horses along the cobbled paths and there were hundreds of people who walked to the gates. Often, there was a whisperer who sped through the entrance to the main hall. All news was of Kalondu, lately. There was no peace for them any more, not since she was eight years old.
There was quiet now, wide and infinite over the region. A few birds darted from the rare trees as far as she could see. Beyond the land below the castle were forests and the sea. These were the fertile lands belonging to the most rich of kings whose’ adversaries were few and, usually, frightened. There was a breeze, a light drifting of air that picked up her bark brown hair and the pleats of her white dress. The long sleeves were thin and fitting and the design made great use of what little cleavage she had.
Her delicate features were settled and still and her eyes were distant in thought, as she gazed into the distance. A mauve moon lay in place of the sun and showed as a dim crescent. Her lids fell, her eyes closed.
“Pen…” His voice echoed a little in her mind. It was a quiet whisper, soft and remote. “You can hear me, can’t you?”
“I can, but every part of me wishes I couldn’t.” When she opened her eyes, what had been white silk was now red satin over her body. She could see the patterns of auburn and scarlet as if they were in sheer opposition yet the colours lay so near. A long shawl lay over her shoulders and, as she moved slightly, the colours glided up and down- gold sunlight on the deep red.
“There’s nothing wrong with being able to see me. It’s your choice, you choose to be here when you like.” He was behind her and before her was no landscape of green and grey but a sun setting and a sea. She was staring down a cliff, a vertical fall below her. The rocks were the colour of primroses, the colour of the sky playing surreally with the tones of the earth face. The waves were midnight blue and black with highlights of rose in peaks here and there, the pattern constantly rocking rhythmically.
She couldn’t tell whether this was how he saw her, in this dress, or whether it was how she fancied seeing herself. There was always something unreal about it and it was strange how, whenever she wanted to turn and see who talked to her, she would wake up and be in the same room she’d been dreaming in.
“You’re a demon, of course there’s something wrong with seeing you. If I told a seer he’d say I was cursed.”
“I’m not-… I’m your daemon, your guardian. Don’t be afraid of me.” He sounded frustrated at this, but kept being patient. “I’m also a person and I will meet you one day.”
She could hear him coming closer but was very conscious that there was a cliff in front of her, so there was no where to go, and if she turned around everything would be gone so she stayed completely still.
“How can I believe in you if I can never see your face? How could I ever meet you if every time I tried to look at you I woke up to discover that you can not possibly exist?” She asked.
“You can not see me because you don’t believe in me.” He explained. To her, this was a paradox and something she’d heard too often in a tale. You can only ever see what you know has to exist; only those who still believe may see magical things. However such was not true in the tale of Bran and Rhiannon. “Wait a while… here… for me. This place is real, and you really are here.”
At this, she half scoffed. It was not possible and she knew she couldn’t be there. She must be sleeping and it was night, why wake herself up? The flashes of scarlet danced across the crimson in the satin of the skirt as the wind pulsed at it. The sensation of it licking her ankles was real, because there was also a breeze in the real world. She could feel it because it was there. This didn’t prove this place was real.
Her senses gradually opened. There was warm on her cheeks and the ground was soft. The air was thick yet light. She could hear her own breath, that of him and no birds or leaves. She could hear the waves and the flapping of her own skirt.
“How can I make you believe that this place is real?”
“Prove to me I’m not dreaming because, no matter what my senses tell me now, I still don’t believe that I’m not.” She said confidently that he was wrong.
“How can I do that? Only you have the will to believe.”
She was silent. She did neither challenge nor support him. She didn’t suggest a thing and there was silence. Her dark hair drifted over her light skin. Streaks of bark brown crossed her green eyes by the influence of the wind. She wasn’t waiting nor ready, she was just there and maybe there was a thought deeper than thought that had brought around this dream or maybe-…
She felt him behind her. She almost shuddered with the shock and her eyes widened. His hand drifted up her arm to her shoulder and then to her cheek. He caressed her skin and she didn’t need to see his hands. She turned immediately and didn’t see the inside of her chamber but rocks, grey leaf shapes standing in the ground, and in front of them was him.
His iris of violet was set in lilac and his pupil was a thick line, like a cats’. His aquamarine skin was tinted where she didn’t block the last of the red sunlight. He wore a black jacket to his waste with green lining. He was about a head taller than her and staring at her from under jet black hair, curving down his forehead.
Inside his iris was deep, deep purple and she could see streaks of darker colours within the soft colour. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Perhaps the fact that it was unbelievable that made her believe that it was real.
“Who are you?” She asked when she was finally able to speak.
“It’s not important.” He tilted his head at her, and the strands of black hair swayed to the lower side of his forehead with the movement. “Now that you believe, what is important is what I can do for you.”
He was incredible. She’d never seen anything like him; his dark, almost blue, skin was something she’d never imagined before. He half smiled at her and a dimple pressed into one of his cheeks.
He reached out to touch her cheek again, but half way there he reconsidered and his face became very serious as his hand fell by his side again. “I need to show you something, but you must not question a thing… If I don’t show you, I’m afraid that the events that would lead you to me might never happen.”
“What kind of thing do you need to show me?” This was one of many questions that swirled in her head. This was the most relevant, but the one that took up the most room in her mind was ‘Is this real?’ It couldn’t possibly be, could it? This place couldn’t be real, because she shouldn’t be able to blink and be in a different place. This person couldn’t possibly exist.
“The future.” He said, plainly.
“If you show me the future, wouldn’t that change what is going to happen?” She frowned.
“Do you believe in fate, Pen?” He asked, out of the blue.
She considered it for a while, staring at him but focussing on the question. “I think I do… but I don’t believe in the stories that they tell us… “
“Fate is not the journey, but the destination whatever path you choose takes you to. Fate means that you will always arrive at the same place.”
“But then… how could it be that we’d never meet, even if it’s a possibility.”
“Your part almost ends at one event, but we meet afterwards. After that event, it is your choice. Unlike many, Pen, you exist outside of fate and you can make your own… You’re different, Pen…”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t believe this part of what he was saying, it couldn’t be true because it didn’t make sense and he must have been leaving something out.
“We’ve run out of time.” He said hastily. “I will wait until the next time we meet… Keep dreaming and we shall meet again.”
He flashed his dark hand almost an inch away from her eyes and she instinctively blinked and in that short millisecond she was on the balcony. Her forehead rested in the nook of her bent elbow. Her other arm was dangling over the edge wall. She lifted herself up and the white silk moved across her body as she twisted around.
She felt absurd that she’d believed it. Could any such place or any such person be real? Some dreams feel like they’re real, even if- looking back- it seams that one should have judged reality a bit better. In a dream, you could believe that you could fly, swim under water without breathing and walk through flames… but this dream had no such content…
“Pen?” Atheilel was standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was draped over her fair shoulders in long curls. “Your father needs to speak with you.”