Anne Bishop - Bridge of Dreams

“Something I can do for you, Shaman?”

The man’s voice was hearty, but his brown eyes held worry.

Danyal suppressed a sigh. A Shaman put aside his name when he put on the white robes. But he wasn’t wearing the white robes today, wasn’t working as a voice of the world. That didn’t matter to most people, even to a man he’d gone to school with as a boy.

“I’m just refilling my water jug,” Danyal said.

“Let me give you a hand with that.”

He didn’t need a hand, but he let the man haul up the well’s bucket and pour the cool water into the jug.

“My thanks,” Danyal said as he put the stopper on the jug. Because it would matter, he added, “May your heart travel lightly.”

The man flushed with pleasure—and relief. Those words, said by a Shaman, were a blessing heard by the world.

Danyal slipped the jug into the daypack, settled a strap over one shoulder, then headed away from the market, choosing the narrow western road that passed through woodland and fields. A couple of miles down that road was a bridge, and just beyond the bridge was a large tree where he could sit in the shade and enjoy his simple meal.

He wanted to travel, needed to travel. He wanted to spend some time in a place where he could be Danyal instead of Shaman. And he needed to find someone who could help him understand why, over the past few weeks, he felt more and more as if someone was always watching him, always aware of him through his connection to Ephemera. Not a malevolent mind, but not a passive, comfortable one either. Some days he wasn’t sure if that feeling was real or if his mind was breaking in some way.

Only Farzeen was privy to that worry about his mental health and emotional stability; it was the reason Danyal’s old mentor had arranged for him to have a year’s leave from all duties.

He saw the bridge that spanned the stream and, beyond it, he saw the big tree where he would have his meal. His stomach rumbled. He laughed softly and lengthened his stride.

Halfway across the bridge, he wasn’t laughing anymore. The light dimmed and the air cooled with every step he took. The tree faded until it was no longer there. And a voice suddenly whispered, not yours.

Cautious now, and unwilling to believe he’d heard what he’d heard, Danyal took two more steps closer to the other side of the bridge.

A breeze sprang up and pushed at his face, at his chest.

He took another step—and a gust of wind knocked him back.

not yours

A stubborn need to prove that his mind wasn’t playing tricks made Danyal lean into the wind. He regained the step he’d lost and took the last step on the bridge. His hand closed over the railing in a painfully tight grip as the land in front of him swam in and out of focus, making him feel dizzy and a little sick.

“What is that?” he whispered. Light, dark, shadow. The same, but not the same. And…

not yours!

The next gust of wind almost knocked him down.

Danyal carefully backed away from that end of the bridge. The wind swirled around him, pushing until he’d reached the halfway point. Then it vanished.

He stopped and stared at the big tree on the other side of the stream. It had faded when he tried to cross the bridge. Now it was back.

He didn’t think the strange land he’d seen on the other side of the bridge was evil, but it wasn’t part of the city, wasn’t part of anything his people knew. And something wanted him to keep his distance from it.

Retreating to his side of the bridge, Danyal sat on the bank of the stream and forced himself to eat his meal.

What had just happened? Why had land he’d known all his life faded, only to be replaced by something else?

heart wish

Danyal felt currents of power flow around him, through him. He sprang to his feet, alarmed. Then he forced his breathing to slow down. This was the awareness that had been watching him for the past few months. Maybe he could get some answers.

“Who are you?”

A hesitation that held hope and disappointment in equal measure.

world

“Ephemera?”

yes yes yes

Ephemera, the living, ever-changing world was actually talking to him ? How? Why?

Danyal did nothing but breathe as he considered what was happening. The voice that whispered to him might be the world, but in his head it sounded like a child, and like a child, it might flee from anger or demands.

He had asked a question. Ephemera had tried to answer.

“What heart wish?” he asked gently. And what, exactly, was a heart wish?

not yours heart wish. danyal heart wish. she will know.

Know what? he wondered. “Who is she?”

Instead of answering, the currents of power drifted away, leaving him shaken.

He needed to tell the Shaman Council at least some of what had just happened. He needed to tell Kanzi not to use the bridge on the western road. And, privately, he needed to ask Farzeen if the Elders knew anything about heart wishes—or had ever heard of the world speaking to a Shaman instead of manifesting emotions into tangible pieces of itself.

Danyal tore up the rest of his meal, scattering it for the birds and other creatures. Then he settled the daypack on his shoulder and hurried back to Kanzi’s house.

When he reached the house, his nephew took the daypack, handed him a sealed letter, and gave him privacy.

Danyal broke the seal and read…

Danyal,

A darkness has come to the city of Vision. We do not know its name or its nature, but now we are certain it is there. Shamans who tend pieces of the northwest and southern parts of the city are reporting that they can no longer see some streets they had walked last season, can no longer sense what is taking place in the hearts of the people who live there—can no longer be a voice for the world because something is making us blind and mute.

We promised you a year to rest from your duties and search for what your own heart seeks. We are breaking that promise, and it grieves me that you will have to end your visit with your nephew and return immediately to take up your new duties as the Keeper of the southern Asylum.

We know you are tired, and we know this is a difficult task—and I alone understand the cruelty of asking this of you when you are concerned about your own sanity. Shamans are not usually Asylum Keepers. We are too attuned to the inner landscapes of the people around us, and being around the broken day after day eventually breaks us too. But the bone readers and fortune tellers are all sending us the same message: there will be a convergence of allies and enemies in a place of shadows—a madman and a teacher, a guide and a monster. The madman is the reason we want one of our own as Asylum Keeper.

The council considered every Shaman, regardless of age, and we all agreed. It comes down to you, Danyal. You are not like other Shamans. You never were, and what your own heart needs is something the Elders cannot give you. Because of that and your unusual ability to see the hearts of others so clearly, you are the one chance we have to save Vision. As much as you love this city, you are seeking something beyond what you can find here. We are hoping the needs of your own heart will lead you to the person who can help us see and understand the enemy.

We will give you every assistance we can, but in the end, it is your voice that will speak for us all—and for our piece of Ephemera.

Travel lightly,

Farzeen, on behalf of the Shaman Council

Danyal folded the letter. Yesterday he would have wondered if they were sending him to the Asylum to find a madman or because they believed he was one. Now that he knew he was sane, he couldn’t tell the council about what happened on the bridge, couldn’t tell them the world had spoken to him. He didn’t want this assignment, but he needed to be the one who took it because Ephemera’s words floated through his mind: not yours heart wish. danyal heart wish. she will know.