Chapter One

Dreams are difficult to understand. When she was young, Janice would dream all the time. Her mother used to say it was because she had an open mind and was sensitive to the greater world around them. In a word, she was special.

Once, she told Janice about a secret technique for having the most vibrant, vivid dreams. Eat a piece of dark chocolate right before bed, and as you fall asleep, focus intently on the subject you want to appear in your dreams. And when sleep came, it would feel like stepping into an all new reality.

It didn’t work the first time. Nor the second.

But Janice trusted her mother, and she kept trying. And then one night, it happened. As she drifted off, her mind wandered, as it often does when wavering between the uneasy state of wakefulness and sleep.

But a glimmer of her past came to mind, a memory, or perhaps not quite one. She couldn’t be sure. Strong hands holding her aloft by the waste. Her child arms stretched as high as they would go, the stone ceiling tantalizingly close to her fingertips.

When she finally felt the cool rock pressed against her palm, it seemed to melt away into oblivion. Her body seemed to lighten as if she were dissolving into the inky nether above her. The strong arms gave one final, gentle push, and she was through the smokey abyss, floating through the air above her home, free.

For years after, this became a recurring dream for Janice. No longer did her mother have to fight to get the child into bed. Sleep was exciting for Janice. She longed for it, spending her days fantasizing about the places she would go, the people she would meet, the strong, beautiful person she would be, later that night, in her dreams.

Eventually, she no longer needed the strong arms to propel her through the roof. And she forgot all about them.

Until one night, struggling to pierce the veil above her bed, she saw a young boy approaching in the dark. He appeared familiar, but it was hard to gain a clear view through the shadows. When he spoke, it was not from a voice carried from his lips through the air to her. His words came from deep inside herself, as though her own thoughts spoke in his voice.

“My mom asked me to write this to you. And I am very happy about the summer I spent with you and your family. I am only 8 years old, but I think very much. At home, I never have anyone to speak to. You listened. Please receive my thanks. You are a very special person and am very special to me. Sincerely, your cousin and friend, Joseph.”

“Joseph,” she asked. And for the first time in years, she felt the strong arms at her waste. Only instead of propelling her high, they held her firm. Not so much holding her in place but more so in order to catch her should she fall.

“You have to wake up, Janice. Now. Please…. please….. please…..

“Miss,” the whisper came to her ear, rousing her from sleep but not quite eliciting wakefulness.

“Miss Janice, please.” The whisper persisted but more urgent this time.

“What is it, Jasper?” the teenage girl groaned, wiping a curly lock from her eyes as she glared wearily upon the middle-aged man before her, more grizzled in the cheeks and wild-eyed than she was used to seeing.

“We have to go. We have to leave, now,” he said, still whispering.

“What?”

“Shhhhhhh,” he nearly cried, rushing a palm to Janice’s mouth. She was still too sleepy to act and merely fell back upon the bed, flat on her back, his hand falling with her, desperate not to break the silence. Slowly and carefully, he pulled away, looking behind toward the door, a look of fear and anxiety etched onto his weathered face.

Janice sat up and ran an exasperated hand through her hair, letting it catch in the curls upon her forehead. She held it there as she studied the family stableman before her. His clothes appeared to be put on slapdash. His suspenders were on backwards. One heel hung uncomfortably outside the sole of his shoe. His hair clung to his face, unkempt and matted from sleep.

“Jasper, whatever it is, I’m sure moth….”

“Shhh,” he said again, turning toward Janice but keeping his eyes unfocused, staring at the walls around them. “Listen.”

With a heavy sigh, Janice paused and did as he asked. Nothing came at first, but then there it was. A low rumble. A crackle. A cry. So quiet, but it was there. Another cry, and then nothing.

“What is that?” she asked. “We have to get mother.”

“No,” Jasper said, weakly. “They’ve come for us mistress. Here here,” he said rushing to her dresser, pulling random sets of clothes out and flinging them to the ground toward her. “You must dress and quickly.”

“Who has come for us,” she asked with both annoyance and hesitation. Before he could answer, she did as she was told however, running a set of trousers under her sleeping gown. “Turn around Jasper,” she said before taking the gown off completely.”

He immediately did as he was asked. “The Good Men, my dear.” His voice shook as he spoke. “They came all at once. Too many in number. I… I… They missed me because I was sleeping in the stables. They haven’t reached here yet.”

Fully dressed, Janice placed a cautious hand on the stable master’s slumped shoulders. “Jasper…… my mother.”

He turned, tears welling in his eyes. “The deed was done, mistress. The deed was done. We must go. Now.”

“No, we have to….. someone could still be alive, mother could still…..”

“I went to the main house first, mistress. I saw for myself. We have to go in the opposite direction. As far, as fast as we can.”

Her hand, having grown limp on Jasper’s shoulder, turned to a claw as she clutched at him, decisions flashing through her mind in an instant. She finished with a simple nod.

“Jasper, fetch my sword from the study. I’ll pack a travel bag. We meet outside in five minutes.”

“Yes, mistress,” he said rushing to action in an instant.

Her hands shook as she pulled all manner of fruits and bread from the pantry, stuffing them into her small pack. When she finished, she pressed her hands onto the table and bent her head down. Deep breaths rushed into her lungs. Fast at first. Then slower. Easier. A single tear ran down her right cheek. Janice took one final breath before brushing the tear clear from her face.

She burst through the front door into the darkness only to come to an immediate and abrupt stop. Before her was Jasper, the sword held tentatively, amateurishly in his hands as three armed men slowly approached, circling him like a pack of wolves.

“Go on, mistress. I’ll handle these jackals,” Jasper said.

“Give me the sword. You’re no warrior,” she said sternly, eyeing the men who may have had a direct hand in murdering her mother. They bore no insignia, no colors of note. Their armor was piecemeal, a mix of leather and some chain. Each wielded a mace, held in both hands.

“I couldn’t save your mother and father, but I can save you!”

Before Janice could say a word, he flung headlong into his opponents. The first swing was easily sidestepped and landed clumsily between two of the men, one of whom landed a blow into Jasper’s right shoulder. Before he could even react to the pain, another sunk the spikes of his mace deep into his left side. A third blow landed across Jasper’s cheek, spraying blood through the night air.

As all three men leaped upon Jasper’s now motionless body, Janice fled into the nearby forest. She could hear the sounds of flesh being ripped and beaten long after she rounded the first giant oak tree. Jasper made no sound. Not a single cry.

She spared but a single glance as she ran as fast as her legs and lungs could take her. Her childhood home could be seen burning through the towering trees and smoke in the distance. It was all she needed to see. All she wanted to see.

After just a minute of running, she could hear the distant shouts of men. She could tell they were gaining, as the inaudible growls and grunts soon turned into clear orders to hunt her down. To kill her. To not leave a single one left breathing.

She thought about her mom. Could see her face so perfectly in her mind. The stern eyes when she was annoyed. The loving lips that kissed her forehead when she was happy. The face she would never see again.

Janice stumbled. Her legs wildly contorted about in an attempt to stay upright, but her forward momentum was too much. She stumbled. And face-planted directly into the brush, dirt slicing across her skidding palms, her skull landing with a crack upon an errant branch.

Her pride hurt more than her body. But she was dazed, and her mother’s image still clung hazily in her mind. She heard the sounds of breaking sticks, boots on leaves, and the garish sounds of cackling men, hooping and hollering at their easily-won prize.

Janice focused on the image of her mother, reaching out a hand as though she could feel that warm embrace once more. She wanted to say, I’m sorry, but couldn’t even muster the strength for one last whisper. No word that could suffice as a final one in this world.

Closing her eyes, Janice felt the strong arms at her waste, lifting her toward the sky. She looked up and saw the moon peering through the treetop canopy, its light feeling like a beacon upon her weightless form. She breathed deep. The deepest breath of her life. And slept.