Ring of Dreams

Irritating Details

Jane followed Edward into the forest without any more argument. She supposed, technically, that this was the kind of adventure she had wanted. It wasn't quite as fun as she had thought it would be. The image of her attacker, dead on the ground, rose up in her mind's eye and she hurriedly shoved it aside, swallowing thickly past the soreness in her throat. Everything had turned out all right. You know, after she hit him in the head with that pan. That had showed up when she needed it. Just the way she had imagined it. Just like the money, and the pack, and even the game trail...

Was it possible? Could she summon what she needed just by thinking about it? How could she test it out? Confronted by the very real possibility of having anything she wanted with a thought, Jane drew a blank. She couldn't think of anything to try it out on.

She glanced ahead. Edward was cutting through the forest without so much as a backward glance, as though there was no chance that she would do anything but follow him. That irked her. Not that she was about to do something stupid like run off and try her luck alone, not with the second assassin still out there and probably following them. No. Besides, her feet were starting to get sore, so she had no interest in running anywhere. But still! She sighed. As irritating as it was, at least it gave her a chance to experiment without having to answer pesky questions that she didn't know the answers to. Not yet.

Now if she could just think of something to summon.

Well, what about something small, she thought. Something easy. A marble. Small, round, hard, glass - one of those clear ones with a blue swoosh suspended in the center. She could see it in her mind, could visualize it perfectly, and she imagined herself reaching out to touch it. No sooner had her mental hand reached it than she felt her fingers close around something small and hard. More than a little alarmed that anything had actually happened, she stole another quick glance at Edward to be sure he still wasn't looking before she inspected the item.

It was a marble, all right, but instead of the flawless transparent glass she had imagined, it was some kind of cloudy white stone with blue streaks through it. Weird, she thought, but I'll go with it. She automatically tried to stuff it in her pocket before she remembered that she didn't have any, and since she wasn't in the mood to negotiate her pack off of her back to put it inside she just dropped the marble softly on the ground behind her as she walked. Jane felt a twinge of guilt about littering - fantasy world or not - and tried to imagine the marble disappearing. She glanced behind her, but couldn't see it to tell whether it had vanished or not. I wish I'd thought of that before I dropped it, she thought, but she shrugged and kept walking. 

So I can conjure little stone marbles, she said to herself, and presumably packs full of supplies and frying pans and possibly find my way to game trails. Or create them. I'm not really clear on that. So now the question is: what next?

Where a moment ago she had had no ideas, suddenly possibilities crowded her mind, jostling to be the first to be turned into reality. Dragons. Unicorns. Magic wands. Fairies. Talking horses and gryphons and mermaids, slyphs and sorcerers, giants and dwarves - how could she possibly choose what to do first?! This was literally the opportunity she had dreamed of, and now all she had to do was think about it and it would all be real!

Hold on there, she chastised herself. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe it only works on inanimate objects. Maybe you can't do living things. Better check with something harmless.  All right then - a squirrel. Jane searched until she found a bare tree branch up ahead. Again she visualized it, picturing it as clearly as she could on the branch; the gray-brown fur, the black button eyes, the fluffy gray tail and rounded ears. Be, she thought. Be there. 

A wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to stagger, but before they passed the tree, she saw what was unmistakably a squirrel on the branch. It flicked its bushy red tail, darting a few steps as though it was surprised to find itself there, and then it skittered up the trunk into the canopy. Wait a minute, Jane thought. Red tail? And why did it have such pointed ears?

Her feeling of lightheadedness persisted for a few minutes, discouraging further experimentation as she had to concentrate harder to follow Edward through the trees. The sunlight - what diffuse light penetrated the dense canopy, at any rate - was fading into gray and it was getting harder to see. By the time Jane's head cleared she had fallen back a little, and she hurried to catch back up.

"Hey," Jane said as soon as she was close enough, "don't you think it's time to start looking for someplace to make camp?"

Edward stopped at once and turned to face her, causing Jane to come to an awkward stop to avoid crashing into him. He looked surprised, and Jane thought, annoyed, as if he had forgotten that she was following him.

"Indeed, my lady," he replied. His voice, at least, betrayed no sign that he felt anything of the kind. "I have been seeking an appropriate campsite for the last candlemark or more."

"I wish you'd said something," she grumbled. Her feet were really starting to throb from crossing the forest floor all afternoon with nothing but thin-soled leather shoes between them and hidden rocks. "I could have been helping you look."

There was that twitch again; surprise, quickly smoothed away. "Forgive me, my lady - I had forgotten that you must be fatigued. Pray, do not trouble yourself," he continued, smiling. "I shall find a place for us to stop that you may rest and recover your strength."

After a moment Jane, too shocked to muster a response, realized that her mouth was hanging open. By the time she had collected her thoughts enough to decide that she wanted to give him a piece of her mind, and what did it matter anyway if she was tired because that was completely beside the point she had been trying to make, Edward was already twenty yards ahead of her. Jane wanted to mutter angrily, but decided to save her breath for walking and just directed barbed thoughts his way instead.

This is just one more example, Jane told herself, of the reality being far less exciting than the fantasy. He probably wouldn't expect anything useful out of a woman. In fact, if anything, he likely saw her as a fragile piece of cargo that needed careful shepherding just to avoid the constant threat of death. If only that wasn't so irritatingly close to the truth! I can take care of myself, she insisted. Unless there are assassins, she was forced to admit. Or swords. Or dozens of other possible threats that suddenly loomed large in her imagination, things she would never encounter in the real world. Crap. Maybe I should take up self-defense, she thought. I can't wait to explain to Mom and Dad that I want to learn to use a sword.

Despite these thoughts, Jane hadn't finished fuming when Edward motioned for her to stop. He'd found a little hill that was partially bare due to a large tree that had fallen, and he unbuttoned his cloak and draped it over the trunk. He held his hand out to her expectantly; Jane flushed with equal parts annoyance and embarrassment but extended her hand in return. He took it and led her over to sit on the cloak so gently that embarrassment won out and her blush flamed a few hundred degrees higher. Yup, she said to herself. He definitely thinks I'm a delicate flower.

Is that really so bad? a tiny part of her asked. You don't know how to take care of yourself here, and he's willing to do it for you. There's nothing wrong with that. Jane imagined the voice was coming from her feet, which were admittedly in raptures of relief now that she was sitting down. Shut up, feet, she thought with as much energy as she could muster. You don't tell me what to do. I don't know this guy, he doesn't know me, there's no way I'm going to pull some sort of 'damsel in distress' card and let him steer my entire adventure.

She forced herself back up onto her complaining feet and over to where Edward was arranging what looked like the base for a campfire. "Can I help?" 

He smiled again, a little sideways smile like her question amused him but he didn't want her to think he was laughing at her. "Do you know how to lay a fire?" he asked, not lifting his eyes from the sticks.

Pride almost wouldn't let her answer honestly, but she pushed it down. It's not any use pretending to have knowledge you don't have, she reminded herself. "No," she admitted, hoping that her voice didn't sound too choked, "but maybe you could teach me."

Then he did look up at her, surprised. Jane forced a smile, trying to look as though she had no idea that her request might be considered strange. After a moment, he nodded. "Very well, my lady. First you stack the kindling thus..."