Anya and the Dream Keepers

story.

Chapter 1

The Reflecting Pool

Death is swallowed up in victory. The priest’s words echoed in Anya’s mind as her grandfather’s coach threaded its way through the darkling English countryside. Death swallowed. What power could withstand death’s venom, she wondered. The day of her father’s funeral was steeped in death for Anya. The painful images of his burial haunted her. Victory? How? She wanted to believe, but not today.

After the graveside ceremony, swollen clouds released a torrent that pelted the top of Aidan’s coach. Veins of lightning tore the sky and split the air with thunder. They were making for Aidan’s estate a few hours distant, but the coach struggled through the deeply rutted road. Heavy rains threatened to mire the wheels in the mud. Night seemed anxious to press in though it was only after noon. Dark clouds surrounded them and made Anya’s pain nearly unbearable. She wept in great heaving sobs until she was nearly exhausted.

Aidan marveled at her resilience. Her mother had contracted tuberculosis and before his death Anya’s father had confided to Aidan that the shock of losing his wife would likely seal his own fate. He succumbed shortly afterwards to pneumonia. It was her father’s death that had the more potent effect on Anya. Peering into her father’s grave earlier that day, Anya’s hollow gaze had alarmed Aidan. Eventually her weeping gave way to whimpering and the storm evaporated into a golden sunset as they neared Aidan’s estate. The evening swiftly sank into silhouette as the coach rocked along the rutted roads of England’s countryside. Anya nestled into the warmth of Aidan’s bosom and drifted into the embrace of sleep.

Anya fell into a kind of sacred dream. She felt surrounded by powers she couldn’t see. Some were holy and pure and it felt like they restrained other, darker spirits — malignant ones that seethed with rage. She slept fitfully and whimpered as her parents’ faces at times drifted through her dream. The images of their faces faded and their voices shifted as though carried by the wind until they seemed to come from the darkness of a nearby forest. In her dream, Anya crept into the forest. She was surprised by her boldness, because she had always feared the old forest. She was drawn through the murky woods toward several glowing lights. When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she noticed that the lights came from shrubs that burned like candelabras. It seemed as though the voices spoke from the flames.

Anya! Anya, my dear! Though the darkness surrounds you, you are not alone. There are powers at work that will protect you and see you through. It is time. Anya, it’s time.

Anya, it’s time to wake up. We’re here, said Aidan as he gently roused her from sleep.

She looked up at her grandfather Aidan for comfort as he snuggled her close. Anya admired his face as it glowed like burnished bronze in the setting sun. He bore an inordinate amount of wavy white hair for a man his age and his bushy eyebrows exuded the powerful aura of a great horned owl. His deep-set blue eyes were at times soothing and welcoming and at other times formidable in their aspect. A white mustache and goatee framed his winsome smile.

Parallel rows of stone lions standing proudly on pedestals lined the approach to Aidan’s manor. Stalwart iron gates swung open to receive the coach. The venerable stones of the manor house bathed in rosy twilight while servants hurried to the coach to welcome their master. Aidan emerged with Anya swaddled in a wool blanket, her fluttering eyelids struggling beneath the weight of fatigue and sorrow. He carried her up the steps of the manor, through a cavernous hall, and into the cozy bedroom she had occupied every summer as long as she could remember. There he ensconced her beneath a down comforter and gently stroked her auburn hair until she slept soundly. Aidan sat for a while in the large wingback chair in Anya’s room admiring her beauty in the lamplight. She had her father’s blue eyes and her mother’s lips like Cupid’s bow, accustomed to smiling.

Once quick-witted and spontaneous, the pall of Anya’s loss oppressed her. Aidan hoped that coming to live with him in a familiar, carefree environment might provide the best balm for her downcast spirit. Tonight he would stay by her side, keeping watch and listening to the even rhythm of her breathing until his own fatigue overwhelmed him.

Good morning Sunshine! The next morning Aidan’s mellifluous voice roused her from sleep. Sunlight flared across her bed igniting the rose on her breakfast tray into a brilliant flame of color. She cautiously smiled in response. As soon as you’ve had breakfast, I have something I want to show you, said Aidan. Her appetite grew as she sampled the offerings on her tray. Aidan was pleased to see her eating.

When he and Anya finally emerged from the manor house, they surveyed the lush grounds of the estate. The gardens nestled close to the house and abounded in topiary, neatly trimmed hedges, and ornately tiled paths. Beyond the gardens lay a large rectangular reflecting pool with a fountain in the center. Further beyond the grounds, a sweeping swath of lawn receded before a dense tangle of trees called the dark forest. Even though Anya had spent summers at Aidan’s estate since she was born, she had always avoided the dark forest.

Come, let’s take a walk, Aidan said taking her hand.

They descended crescent-shaped stairs from the veranda to approach a granite-pillared gazebo in the middle of the garden below. When they entered the gazebo they looked up at a curious pair of armor-clad statues standing back-to-back on a marble pedestal. Aidan’s eyes gradually swept upward until they rested on the smooth white faces and then he seemed to smile. The heroic figures of a man and a woman stood beneath a copper cupola, green with age.

I’m sure you’ve seen this many times, but I’ve never told you the story behind this monument. This is how my father and mother looked long ago — noble in character and brave. They were the king and queen of the land of Aurora. My memories of them are precious and few. I was so young and memories are such slippery things. Even if you have favorite memories, over time they gradually get worn and rubbed smooth like a stone. I built this long ago, because I was afraid that one day I might not remember them at all. You see, I too lost my mother and father, Aidan said. So I try to keep their story alive. When I’m gone, I want you to remember the story of your family.

But Papa, I can’t lose you too, Anya said.

You’re right, Anya. You can’t lose me and you never have to, said Aidan.

Anya cocked her head a bit and searched Aidan’s eyes for his meaning. But Papa, won’t you …

Die someday, Aidan interjected. "Of course. That’s the way of things in nature. But let me tell you a secret that I learned from my mother and father. They used to say that life is a lot like a book and each day a page. Today you and I are writing another page in our stories. We can make it whatever we want and then, when I tuck you in each night, we can share the memories of what we did that day just like reading a page from a book. I’m sharing my story with you, and someday you’ll share yours with your children and your grandchildren. So you see, it’s up to us to make our lives worth remembering.

Now let me tell you another story about my father and mother. Look at the statues and tell me what you see. Aidan said.

Well, Anya hesitated, They don’t look like a king or queen. Why are they dressed like that?

My mother and father had to fight a war for the future of their people and our family. If they hadn’t succeeded, you and I wouldn’t be here. Aidan said.

Who did they fight? Anya asked.

They fought very powerful, clever enemies who didn’t want to be ruled by a king — even a good king. Where my father came from there was an old legend about a very special child, who would one day rule the world and usher in a golden era. The legend tells that the child would be descended from their royal line, Aidan replied. Their enemies wanted to either prevent the child from being born, or kill it, so that they could take over the kingdom.

Was that child you, Papa? Anya asked.

No, but our family is descended from that royal line. Furthermore, if we ever return to Aurora, we have a sacred duty to find and protect that child so that he can fulfill his destiny, said Aidan. That’s why they had to be strong and why you’re strong. So we remember …

Like remembering mummy and daddy? Anya asked.

That’s right, Anya! By remembering your mother and father’s stories they continue to live in us and we keep their dreams alive. Your mother and father were born here in England, but I wasn’t. I came to England as a young boy, a child really. I was rescued and brought here for my own safety. And to protect this …

Aidan pulled a golden pendant from the pocket of his vest. Anya leaned forward, transfixed by the beauty of the object, an azure stone set in gold, facets scintillating in the sun.

This is a royal heirloom of my family — of the kings and queens of Aurora.

Where is Aurora, Papa? I’ve never heard of it. Anya wondered.

There are few that have, my dear. Aurora is impossibly far from England. It’s the land of our ancestors — the land of the dream keepers. With dream keepers stories are a way of life — almost as important as food and shelter. That’s because stories have a way of working their ways deep into our hearts. You, my dear, are a child of that tradition. And that’s why you should keep this pendant. My father gave it to me just as his father gave it to him. We call it a Sayer Stone. It will help you remember your mother and father, and someday even me. That’s why you can’t really lose me as long as you keep the stone.

Anya gazed intently at the luminous pendant. The faceted ice blue stone was wreathed in gold and hung from a long chain. She marveled at the stone’s beauty and wondered about what Aidan said about it.

It’s very precious to us. Let me show you one of the reasons why, said Aidan as he took her hand. They strolled from the gazebo along a path flanked by lush gardens and descended the marble stairs that led down to the reflecting pool where they sat down.

Now, hold the Sayer Stone in your open palm, Aidan said extending the pendant to Anya.

The feel of the stone cooled her skin and refreshed her spirits.

This stone has been in our family for years beyond count. It’s unique for many reasons, but chiefly, because it’s not of this Earth, Aidan said. Now think of your mother and father and look into the pool.

Anya looked down at the sparkling water. At first she saw only light dancing on the water, but then the light itself seemed to ripple, breaking into waves like a watery prism. Familiar aspects swirled round, coalescing into the very likeness of mother and father. Anya’s face suddenly brightened and she looked at her grandfather in silent wonder.

My father used to tell me that a Sayer Stone is a kind of touchstone, that sheds light on the path to truth, said Aidan. In the hands of a child of Aurora, you will always discover the truth, but sometimes you will have to wait for your wits to grow sharp enough to grasp it.

Anya returned her gaze to the pool where she marveled to see her parents’ faces so full of life once more. She watched for a long time as Aidan sat nearby. He was pleased to see her smiling again, even if for a short while. Then she looked up and slowly extended the Stone to return it to Aidan, but he gestured to her to keep it.

"When you were little, your mother and father made many decisions for you, but I think you’re already on your way to becoming a fine young lady. I think it’s time for you to have the Sayer Stone and decide how to take care of it.

+++++

As summer unfolded, Anya settled into an agreeable routine as in summers past. In the mornings they shared breakfast out on the veranda. Afterwards Aidan tutored Anya in Latin, grammar, rhetoric, and logic. Then they often shared a picnic lunch on the estate grounds. In the afternoons Anya was free to explore the grounds, peruse the library, or play games. Sometimes she would sit by the reflecting pool for long periods using the stone to renew her memories of her mother and father and to ease her soul. It helped knowing that she had the Sayer Stone. In the mid-afternoons they enjoyed tea in the beautiful tea pavilion near the manor house. On weekends they ventured into the city to attend plays, go to museums, and see friends. They seldom missed Mass on Sunday when they were in town. If they were at the estate, they usually attended the old stone chapel of the local parish.

Each year Aidan hosted a grand midsummer fête on the estate grounds. This year he had hired a local actor’s guild to perform William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream outdoors in the evening. That day the serving staff buzzed with preparations and the thrill of anticipation reached a crescendo when the guests began to appear at the front gate in a parade of horse-drawn carriages. Ladies decked in velvet and lace hung on the arms of their tuxedo-clad escorts. Throngs of eager guests filtered through the palatial mansion and spilled out into the gardens through arched colonnades dripping with wisteria and enormous clouds of roses. Lilacs and jasmine perfumed the balmy air. Long strings of paper lanterns shed their light on the deftly groomed gardens and the stage. A honey-colored moon hung against the scrim of a silky black sky dotted with stars. The dark forest cut a jagged silhouette from the dusky horizon providing a suitably dramatic backdrop.

After a great deal of milling about and polite small-talk, the crowd soon found their seats. When the footlights were lit everyone hushed in unison as they waited for the first act. Anya had attended plays in the city with Aidan, but she had never seen Midsummer Night’s Dream on stage, much less performed on a balmy evening outdoors. She was enchanted by the lyrical magic of the verse, the actors, and above all the fairies. The comical buffoonery of Bottom’s malapropisms lightened her heart. She often looked over to see Aidan smiling and laughing too. His expression changed though when act two opened. Puck entered the stage from one side and a beautiful fairy from the other side. When Aidan saw the fairy he seemed to mask some expression of surprise and disquiet, but Anya couldn’t turn her attention away from the stage for long. By the end of the play she felt a pleasant glow of happiness.

After all the guests had at last departed, Aidan invited Anya to the library, a homey wood-paneled cavern. Leather-bound volumes lined bookshelves that towered above her head. She had been in the library before, but paid little attention to anything but her favorite section of books. Aidan was on a rolling ladder removing a volume when Anya entered. He descended and motioned for her to sit in a comfortable chair next to him.

Anya, it’s late, but I have something important to tell you. I have to go away for a while, but I’ll return very soon.

Anya reached into her pocket where she kept the Sayer Stone when she wasn’t wearing it.

You’re going to Aurora, aren’t you Papa? Anya inquired.

I can see I gave the stone to the right person, Aidan paused. That’s right, Anya. I must return to Aurora.

I don’t want you go. Won’t it be dangerous? Aren’t there still enemies there looking for you?

That might be true, but they don’t know I’m coming and they don’t know what I look like, Aidan replied. I also have the advantage that I know more about them than they know about me.

But aren’t you a bit … I mean …

Old? Aidan added. You’re right, but that only aids my cause. There’s certainly no disgrace in growing old, but it can be a bit inconvenient at times. If you want to help me, you’ll stay here and look for my return. You’ll be safe here. There are people who will take care of you. Please Anya, trust me. There’s one more thing. I think you should know more about Aurora.

Aidan extended the leather-bound volume in his hand. The spine was labeled in ornate gold script, On the Fairies of Edreth from the Beginning of Days.

This section of the library is filled with books about Aurora. You’ll find many books about its history, people, and geography. These books can tell you a lot about where I’m going. If you get worried about me, you can use the stone. But above all else, you must remain here. I’ll be back very soon.

Anya looked at Aidan with pleading eyes that were beginning to well up.

I know I can trust you, and I have to tell you, Anya, I’ve always admired your courage.

With that Anya leapt into Aidan’s arms and hugged him tightly for a long time, briefly letting loose a burst of sobs.

Please take care of this until I return, Aidan said. It’s the key to the library. You alone will have access. You’re the keeper of Aurora’s history while I’m gone. That makes you a dream keeper.

Anya tried to smile, but it was half-hearted. That night as she lay in bed, she remembered the delight of the play, the beautiful fairy, and felt a vague sense of anxiousness. She fingered the stone uneasily and wondered whether the fairy in the play had something to do with her grandfather’s sudden change of plans until at last she fell asleep with it clutched to her chest.

The following morning when Aidan departed, the sky was dark and gloomy. Anya couldn’t bring herself to eat. After dressing, she wandered out on the veranda and down to the reflecting pool, where she sat for a long time remembering her last visit to the pool with Aidan. After a while she looked up and noticed a bronze statue on a pedestal in the middle of the fountain. It was a life-size fairy with one hand extended. I don’t remember that, she thought. Just then she remembered a little ditty about fairies that Aidan often repeated when she was young.

When fairy feet the soil meet,

a passage opens in a forest deep.

Anya’s hand slipped into her pocket for the stone. Holding it in her extended palm, she looked at the reflection of the fairy in the water. Its face was not bronze, but delicate flesh. She looked up in astonishment at the motionless statue and again at the reflection. Then she squinted her eyes suspecting some kind of fairy mischief behind her grandfather’s disappearance. Digging her fists into her hips, she thrust her jaw forward and scowled, You! You’re the fairy from the play, aren’t you? What have you done with my grandfather? She waited for any sign of a response. Did you do something to make him go away?

She fixed her gaze on the reflection until she saw its eyes move and face twitch. At last, it spoke.

"I am imprisoned here and cannot move,

an evil charm only you can remove."

Imprisoned by an evil charm? Anya asked, softening her tone and relaxing a bit.

"A charm to be broken requires the same,

a lock you open by using a name."

I’m confused. How can I understand you when your words are like a puzzle, Anya asked.

"I am iambic, that’s part of the charm.

A key you will need to free me from harm."

A key. I can defeat a charm with another charm. I see. The key is another charm, Anya realized. How do I make such a charm?

"The power of charming lies in the same.

The key to this charm is speaking my name."

Well, that’s easy. Didn’t you just say your name was iambic?

"A charm is broken if it’s spoken in verse.

You must say it so to vanquish the curse.

So the charm imprisoned and forced you to speak in verse. You mean iambic verse. I see. Well then, just tell me your name and I’ll make up a verse and set you free, Anya exclaimed.

"To learn my name you must trust in me,

the stone that you have, I must hold the key."

Anya clutched the stone to her chest. But, my grandfather gave me this stone! It’s been in our family for a long time. How do I know I can trust you, Anya hesitated. So if I let you hold the stone, you will give me your name. I will only do that if you promise to tell me what’s become of him. Do you promise?

"The promise I give you I cannot break.

I promise you now for your grandfather’s sake."

You have to give it back then, because I promised to keep it safe. Anya waded cautiously into the reflecting pool, then stared thoughtfully at the stone before placing it in the bronze fairy’s open palm. Okay. You have the stone. Now tell me your name.

"Alydia is the name that I bear.

Think of a rhyme and then speak it with care.

Alydia. That’s a pretty name. I’ll set you free with a charm of my own making. Now let’s see … She returned to the pool’s edge, sat down, and closed her eyes. The spell that charms you I hereby decree, broken and so, Alydia be free!

The fairy’s bronze skin began to glow like burnished brass. Then it shifted color from gold to rosy pink and finally a moment later to soft flesh. She gave a violent shudder and flexed her wings to their full extent in jittery convulsive movements as if she had awakened from a long nap. At last she heaved a great breath and looked down at Anya.

Oh, my! gasped Anya. You’re so … so … big! I thought fairies were tiny.

"I’m not like the fairies of Earth. While they are short in stature, they are long on