The Dreaming Hunt by Cindy Dees Page B

from safe. “I suppose you would be much relieved if I got behind high walls, would you not?”
    â€œI would, Initiate.”
    She was disappointed when Hyland’s night watch informed her that Leland was currently at his manor home in the country. They were quick to offer her usual chambers to her for the night, however.
    The lure of sleeping in a soft bed all by herself in a quiet room was too much to resist. She bade good night to Hrothgar and murmured to the watch soldier that she would show herself to her room. She headed wearily up the stairs, kicked off her boots, and crawled into bed, asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
    Her dreams were strange and disjointed. They were punctuated by loss, grief, and violence she was helpless to prevent. Eventually, the nightmares exploded into a great conflagration that burned up everything she’d been dreaming of and then consumed her.
    Frightened, her dreaming self fled the fire and burst into a white, featureless fog. It swirled around her, plucking at her clothing and nipping at her skin. It was insidious and malevolent, the fog, seeking to steal something from her. She moved forward cautiously. Fear drove her to walk faster and faster and then break into a jog and finally into a full-out sprint of terror. But always the fog was there, attempting to insert itself into her mind and steal her most precious memory. She mustn’t let it! Panic clawed at her as she tried to outrun the encroaching thief—
    She stumbled and nearly fell as green, springy grass sprouted abruptly beneath her feet. The fog rushed back from her violently, unveiling a forest glade of such beauty that she could hardly bear to look it at.
    A tall, dark-haired elf as beautiful as the glade turned quickly to face her and took a concerned step forward as she slumped in abject relief. It was him . He still lived. Or existed as a memory, or whatever it was he did in this dreaming place.
    â€œRaina, welcome. What is wrong?”
    â€œWrong?” she echoed. “Why do you ask? How did I get here?”
    â€œYou summoned me to your dream.”
    She stared at the Sleeping King. “I summoned you ? But how?” she asked blankly.
    A faint frown crossed his noble brow. “Apparently, you are deeply disturbed by something. Enough so that your distress reached out to me of its own volition.”
    â€œOh, dear. I’m sorry I bothered you, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to.”
    â€œI am glad you did. And call me Gawaine. My kingdom has not existed for millennia.” He gestured to a pair of bent willow chairs she had not noticed before. Or mayhap they had just appeared beside him under the spreading bows of a magnificently flowering tree she did not recognize. “Come. Sit.”
    She moved forward, staring at him. She remembered him as handsome from the first time they’d met, but not like this. She sank into one of the chairs, and he did the same.
    â€œWhat troubles your dreams, Raina?”
    â€œI helped cast a ritual this evening. It went badly.”
    â€œDid it backlash? Were you hurt?”
    â€œNot exactly. Bloodroot did not want us to perform the ritual and resisted it, causing Will a fair bit of discomfort. Then, when the nature circle went up, it attacked Rosana and wanted her blood. And later, there was a … rip.”
    â€œWhat sort of rip?”
    â€œIs it possible that I could have seen into the Void?”
    Gawaine looked startled. “The actual Void?”
    â€œFor a moment, it was as if the mortal plane tore away. In its place, I saw some sort of spirit guide. A man dressed in white and carrying a lantern. And I saw a scourge and a reaper. Beyond them yawned a blackness so dark and deep I could not draw breath while I gazed into it. And within it lay death.” She shook her head. “It was probably just my imagination. I must have exhausted myself trying to keep the circle intact.”
    Gawaine frowned.