Prologue: Starstruck
It was a moonless night on the Old Marches and the sky came alive.
It started with one star in the palm of the Maiden’s hand. It began shimmering ever more brightly, then escaped from its station in her constellation and swirled up her arm, dragging other stars along with it. The stars condensed and filled out her figure, pulsing lifeblood back into the Dreamer’s body, awakening her from her slumber in the grand tapestry of the night.
The Maiden’s lips parted in a smile as starshapes played tricks about her head and face, weaving flowers into her silver hair. Twinkling light rippled down her dress, tracing lacy patterns in a place which, once black space, was now a shimmering gossamer white fabric draped over a nubile young body, also glowing silvery white.
She stepped forward then from her position in the heavens to cast her gaze over all of Anciana. Her face loomed large in the sky as she leaned over further to survey the land. The dark night was now positively brilliant with her divine presence, creating flickering quicksilver shadows across the continent as she moved.
Down upon the ground in the lands below, innumerable bonfires dotted the countryside like land-stars twinkling up at her. The pinpoints of firelight mapped out constellations of their own, tracing lines between settlement to settlement stretching from the sea to the limits of the Marches where civilization fell into Dream, only to reappear across vast leagues of darkness, marking further pockets of territory that humanity had managed to stake out their claim to. And huddled around each and every camplight were people gathered to witness the Maiden usher in the beginning of spring and a new year.
She waved at them all with delight.
Sir Formesch waved back from his perch on the craggy hilltop, the starlight glittering off his steel gauntlet in a way that he liked to think may have caught her eye, earning the blessing of her attention for a brief second. The King was a cold master, but the Maiden was known to have a soft spot for knights and it had been ages since he had been graced by one so fair as she.
Down in the camp at the bottom of the sheer hillface below him, the soldiers in Lord Kole’s company cheered and catcalled. It was not every day that the Dreamers came out to put on a show, but it was almost always a welcome sight when they did.
The Maiden was now inspecting the land with a studious, pensive expression, her eyes searching to and fro. She extended a finger and seemingly pointed directly at the camp of soldiers — although she could have been pointing anywhere — and they cheered even more loudly, the pride of a hundred-odd men swelling into the air. The Maiden nodded as if having found what she was looking for, waggled her finger a couple of times with a wry grin (not tonight, naughty boys) and strode off toward the eastern skies to wake the Youth.
A lutist in the camp struck a cheerful chord and began singing the traditional song of welcoming. It was not long before all the soldiers joined him, their eager voices drowning out the instrument. The song echoed throughout the hills, carrying into the night with a clearness uncommon for so large a drunken chorus.
Oh! Blessed night of new spring tiding
Maiden kiss the sky
Cold reigned so long, ‘fore Herald’s song
Woke you with a sigh
Oh! Maiden toss your blossoms down
To beautify the land
And bless us with your graceful dance
To warm the hearts of men
The song went on and on with the soldiers singing the Maiden’s praises as she meandered across the sky. Every visible star seemed to be alive now, moving, multiplying, condensing, painting a surreal second landscape scene of dreamlike silver trees and mountains stretching across the firmament as if they meant to erase the heavens entirely and replace them with a window to another world. The Youth lay dozing under a mighty yew tree on the other side of a low mountain that the Maiden was currently traversing.
Formesch sang along quietly, careful not to let his voice carry. It wasn’t likely anyone would hear with all the noise down there, but it never hurt to be careful. He didn’t want to ruin the element of surprise.
“There’s nothing for you down there anymore, old knight.”
Formesch jumped. The voice that had spoken behind him was female, deep and sonorous and impossibly loud. Yet it almost seemed as if she had whispered in his ear. He shivered.
“You have been chosen for a nobler mission. Sir Formesch, it is time to complete your task.”
With wide eyes and a slack jaw, he turned around and beheld the beauty of the Maiden standing on a high precipice before him. She must have been twelve feet tall, stunningly gorgeous every inch. Her gossamer gown rippled about her like butterfly wings fluttering to take flight.
She stepped down from the rock and towered over him. Formesch remembered himself with a wince and bowed deep on one knee, averting his eyes for fear of witnessing the Dreamer’s wrath.
“M… m’lady,” he stammered like a fool. Once renowned for his eloquence, Formesch was now struck dumb with awe.
But when he finally braved a glance up at the Maiden again, what he now saw was a much smaller young woman, perhaps as tall as his chest. She wore the same shimmery dress as before, but it no longer flapped about her like the wind itself.
The Maiden smiled, immediately filling him with warmth and hope, and she took his hand with delicate fingers. Real fingers.
“Come,” she said in a softer, sweeter voice. The voice of a girl. “Walk with me. We have much to discuss.”
The old knight rose, rapt with awe, and allowed the Dreamer to lead him into the forest. As they walked, she told him a tale as old as time.
###
Navigation: Read the next chapter / See all chapters