Alisiyad Chapter 12 ~ Lavender’s Blue (Part 2)

Liseli opened her eyes and pushed herself up, wondering if she had dreamed again and fallen out of bed.  She ran a hand down one leg and felt no bites or clinging maggots.  Taking a breath she rocked back onto her knees, sniffing a little in the dark and listening intently.  Nothing felt amiss.  She smelled nothing besides a strong reek of fear coming from her own self.  Liseli had thought only animals could smell fear, but no.  The scent was clammy, a sudden cold sweat evaporating quickly as she clutched her trembling hands together.

This won’t do, a stern managerial tone arose in her mind.  It was only a dream.  Dreams.  Whatever.  Even if they’re not strictly false, they’re not strictly real.  You’ll never make it in real danger if this is how you react to that.  And what would Russ think if he could see you now?

The self-lecture had begun to calm her, but it sliced with the last thought, and she tensed again.  She had almost reached out her hand to test the contents of her bed, but she stopped.  That was what had seemed so real about the first dream.  She’d seen his face in the mound, though it didn’t look like his should.  It didn’t look like any person’s should.

Dilly dilly.  Stop that.

She hated it when her mind jumped at her; thought things she didn’t plan.

Liseli had always hated that old song, Lavender’s Blue, never knowing quite why.  She hadn’t heard it in years — not since Leona had taken piano lessons — so she didn’t know why she’d dreamt about it.  Why on earth should the Child be singing it?  Maybe it wasn’t really the Child, though; maybe it was a memory of Leona singing along out of her piano primer book.  You know that’s not true.

She shook her head, shivering, darting her eyes around the room.  It was mainly out of nervousness; she didn’t sense anyone, or anything, nearby.  The feeling of being utterly alone had become strong in the dark quiet after she fell to the floor.  It reminded her of the rotting bodies, disintegrating alone.  Oh don’t you dare think about that.  This won’t do at all.  Action, that is what you need.  Do not let it stop you.  She had been about to light the candle, she remembered.

“I’ll still light it,” she spoke out.  She’d meant to sound resolute, in case anything in the dark was planning otherwise.  Her voice croaked, and she fell silent.  She groped over the table for the flint, wishing for some plain old matches or a cigarette lighter.  But she got the flame to spark, and in a moment warm yellow light flickered out, dancing over the objects in the room.  It was good to see the vague shapes; it helped mute the lingering dream images.

“I’ll leave,” her voice sounded better now.  That was it.  Yes.  She felt as if the idea had just freshly occurred to her.  Liseli took a defiant breath, which sounded more like a terrified gasp as it returned to her ears.  No matter.  She moved to the end of the bed and felt for the dim lump of her clothes.  Her real clothes.  Good, she thought with a self-approving nod.  That’s better; that’s a plan.

She pulled on her pants, then hesitated about removing the nightgown.  Right then there was no one in the room with her, but she didn’t want to be at a vulnerable disadvantage if anything ghoulish should stalk out of the shadows at her.  So she carefully maneuvered into her bra underneath the nightgown, then rolled up the lower half the gown into a knot at her waist before buttoning her shirt over it all.  She was starting to feel very good about the whole idea, as she put her socks on.  She would leave.  This place was bad but they could not keep her here.  Intuition must have told her to leave.

She jammed her sneakers on, and fumbled over the laces with shaking hands.  It seemed as if her hands weren’t a part of her — she’d talked herself into some confidence about leaving, but her hands trembled anyway.  No matter.  They were just hands.  As she straightened and looked around the section of the room that was touched by candlelight, she felt as if she’d passed some kind of test — a test of her own making which one side of her had always scoffed at the other side passing.  Ah, but no, she’d pulled herself together.  She must have . . . because look at her now; standing, dressed, ready to take charge.  Now she would leave.  She smiled faintly, then picked up the candle and shuffled toward the door.

Liseli half expected the door to resist her, but it didn’t.  She stood out in the hall and pulled it shut behind her without a sound.  She found that she didn’t like the hall, especially not bathed in the yellow light of the candle.  It reminded her of pulling, spinning, sucking scenes from her dream.  More like a relentless vortex than a hallway.  But she shook her head.  Nothing was pulling her now, and she knew where she was going as she stepped away from her door.  They were leaving.

Her feet made a gentle swishswish noise as she shuffled over the stones.  She was leery about walking; she felt dizzy in the hall, as if the walls were warping and the floor might buckle if she stepped too fast.  She held the candle out with her elbow at a right angle, as if that would hold the walls at bay.  The candle sputtered; her arm was shaking.  She gripped it with her free hand, holding her elbow tight.

She came to the end and stopped.  She thought she remembered which room he’d been in, but couldn’t be sure.  It was at the end of the hall, but which side was it?  She thought the side opposite to her own door, but she glanced at the other side, pensive.  Left or right?  Remember!

Now what if there’s someone in both rooms?  Russ in one and someone who won’t like to be woken up in the other.  Or someone who shouldn’t know we are leaving.  The lady or the tiger.  The Russell or the Alisiyan.  You know Russ isn’t a lady.  Yes, I know, it was a—never mind.  Just choose one.  Alright, I’m choosing.

She thought that perhaps no one slept behind the wrong door — perhaps if she opened the wrong one she would lapse back into dream or find herself in a gray wasteland or maybe the right door led to the wrong Russ, the one who was not strictly real and not str—  Enough.  Just choose one, already.

She chose the one on the left side, but peeked in before opening it all the way.  Moonlight lit the room — the pair of tall glass doors sat latched together in the far wall, and she could see out a little ways over the balcony.  The bright squares of silvery white light that fell across the floor and the bed made her candlelight seem superfluous.  Curtains hung on either side, pulled away from the glass doors.

Liseli inched into the room and let the door shut.  The head resting on the pillow looked like Russ, and there was a sound of deep breathing in the room.  So everything’s alright; you’ve picked the right room.

She sidled over to the bed, and held the candle over him.  It was him.  She nudged the edge of the mattress with her knee.  It didn’t work.  “Russ,” she hissed, “wake up.”  After that failed too, she took her hand from her elbow — only then realizing that she been clutching it so hard no blood had been getting to her lower arm — and reached out to shake his shoulder.  “Wake up!” she raised her hiss.  Then she leaned over and spoke, clearly, into his ear, “Russell, wake up or s-so help me I’ll use the damn candle!”

He stirred, and opened one eye.  He said something unintelligible into the pillow, but then rolled over and sat up.  “What are you doing?” he looked at her, wide-eyed, as if he thought she really was about to use the candle.

“Leaving.  We’re leaving.”  She straightened.  “Come on, get up and get dressed.  Quickly.”

“I don’t get it.”  His voice was still thick with sleep.

“I’ll explain after we’ve left.”

He shook his head and began to rub at his eyes, mumbling something.

“What?”

“I said ‘no,’” he told her, though she was sure it had been more than that.

The candle teetered a little; her right hand was trembling again.  She set the tray down on the nightstand, her fingers cramped from holding it so tightly.  Liseli noted that Russ’s clothes were folded up on the stand.  Good. She turned back to him.  “Things aren’t right here.  Trust me.  We have to leave.”

“Liseli,” he sighed, peering up at her, “this is . . . you . . . beat . . . you’ve . . . it’s the middle of the night.”

“I—”

“Where are you going?”  He lifted his arms out in a shrug which said there’s nowhere to go.

“Anywhere but here.”  She rubbed her elbow absently, returning his shrug with one of her own, tilting her head to the side guiltily.  Something had taken the go-get-’em mood and doused it with cold water, because when she tried to explain she stammered apologetically, “I know it’s dark, and a little cold out, but I . . . if you knew . . . I feel it’s . . . not strictly . . . you see there were dreams.  I had nightmares.”

“Uh.”  Russ flopped onto his back and put his hand to his temples, rocking his head back and forth.  “I can’t believe you got up . . . came here . . . for this . . . do you . . . ohhhh—” Liseli interrupted him by tossing his blue jeans at him.

She crossed her arms as he sat up again.  “Just put those on, and let’s get out of here.”

“Why?”  He slapped the jeans against the bed.  “Because you had dreams?”

“No!  Because there is a . . . is a bad, bad vibe.  Here.”  She pointed to the floor.  “And it was more like a ha-hallucination than a dream, really.”

“Vibes.”  Russ’s voice was flat.  “Look.  Just tell me about the nightmares and I’m sure they won’t seem as—”

Liseli flung his shirt at him and retorted, “You can’t possibly understand, so just do as I say or you’ll . . . .”  She drifted off.

He waited a moment, bunching his shirt up between his hands as he watched her face in the dim light.  “What?  Or I’ll get burnt?” his eyes shot meaningfully toward the candle before he threw the shirt aside.

“No!  I don’t . . . know!  You’ll be dead,” Liseli broke out, louder than she’d intended.  She ducked her head, and added quietly, “I dreamed about you being dead.  You and everyone.”  She watched for his reaction.

“Oh.”  Russ paused.  The frown disappeared, and he smiled with a wobble, then shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  But dreams don’t mean anything.  That’s not really gonna happen.  Okay?”  He reached out and touched her elbow.  “Okay?”

“I . . . ” Liseli pressed her fingers against her temples.  This is going badly.  I don’t think you know what you’re doing, her other voice told her coolly.  Liseli looked up at the ceiling; it was lost in the darkness, and the walls fell down from it in dim grayness.  Russ’s hand was warm around her elbow; he was waiting for her response.  “I . . . need . . . some fresh air,” she said, dropping her hand from her head.  She stepped back and lowered her gaze to Russ briefly, but turned away before their eyes could meet.  She hurried around the end of the bed and fumbled with the handles on the balcony doors, then left the doors swinging open behind her as she paced out into the chilly night air.

One deep breath made her feel better.  Somewhere in the garden nocturnal flowers were blooming, and a scented breeze blew across the balcony, lifting the ends of her hair away.  She crossed her arms and shivered, but walked all the way to the rail and looked down at the dark bushes and trees lining the walkways, lit pale in the moonlight.  This is, by far, the stupidest thing you have ever done in your life.

She shook her head, taking another deep breath.  The cold air made her shiver, but her mind cleared.  The idea of leaving was absurd — good grief what had she been planning?  Must not have been all the way awake.  Just one stupid dream after another . . . .  Well, at the very least it was good that she had gone to Russ first instead of stumbling down the stairs out into the streets of Elharan.  Alone.

Liseli heard footsteps below.  It was a quiet, cautious swish of someone trying to tread discreetly.  Who could be out this time of night?  She leaned over the rail, remembering the pain in her right wrist as she leaned on it.  Now it felt as if she’d definitely just struck the heel of her palm against the floor while flailing out of bed.  The hand gripping her had been nothing more than a vivid dream.

In a moment, she saw a woman — or girl? — come out from a tree-shaded portion of the path.  Liseli squinted.  All the Alisiyans looked so similar, but . . . was that Eliasha?  Hmmm.  Hm hm hm.

The figure halted.  Her feet made a scraping noise.  She hugged herself and lifted her face to the balcony.  It was Eliasha.  She looked Liseli straight in the eyes, but Liseli didn’t start or back up guiltily — she was too fascinated by the way the whites of Eliasha’s eyes seemed to glow with a silvery milky sheen.  Even from up on the balcony, she saw them glittering starkly in the night.  Her mouth fell open unconsciously.

Eliasha lowered her head and turned away, continuing on.  She disappeared through the archway leading into the courtyard, and Liseli turned away, pondering.  She heard a slight rattle from the glass doors and saw Russ emerge from the room.  He’d put on his jeans and shirt, though he seemed reluctant to commit to buttoning it up, having only fastened two in the middle.  He stood in the doorway fiddling absently with another button.

Liseli stepped away from the rail, but didn’t say anything.  How odd that Eliasha was walking around the garden at night.  And why had she stopped and looked up at the balcony outside of Russ’s room?  Maybe she’d sensed Liseli watching her . . . or maybe she’d been contemplating climbing the stairs?  Opening the glass doors?  Hm.  Liseli slowly walked sideways over to a bench, watching Russ.  She cocked her head to the side and sat down, looking at him as if to say, Well?  Hmm?  She almost said, “I just saw your little friend . . . .”

But she didn’t.