The King of Sleep by Caiseal Mor Page A

laughter passed, Dalan’s heart still thumped cheerfully in his breast. His skin tingled with pleasure. The subtle green glow around the tree intensified, demanding the Brehon take notice of it. But he could look only on the form of the most beautiful woman he had ever met.
    Her long, dark green cloak flowed over her body like the water running over the rocks from the spring into the pool. Her hair was as white as her skin, contrasting sharply with the deep dark blue wells of her eyes.
    Dalan frowned as he struggled to recognize her. He was certain he had met her many times in this fantastic vision-world. But he had unaccustomed difficulty recalling her name.
    â€œCurse my feeble memory,” he muttered to himself.
    She smiled at him as if she were indulging a little child who was trying to learn a new skill. “You haveno need of recollections here,” she told him in a voice that was like a sweet humming sigh. “We are beyond the realm of thoughts, actions and deeds. Don’t be surprised if some things you hold in your memory refuse to come to mind.”
    Dalan grunted. His forehead wrinkled as he listened to her familiar tones.
    â€œI am Cuimhne,” she told him. “I brought you once to the Stones of the Watchers.”
    â€œThe Watchers?” Dalan repeated in a daze of confused concern. “Are they here?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen why have you brought me to this place?”
    â€œYou came of your own free will. No one summoned you. No one expected you. I’ve been sent to watch over you while you are here and to see to your well-being.”
    The mention of the Watchers reminded Dalan that he had a duty to perform. They were the reason he had traveled to this spring in the forest.
    â€œI’d like to return to where my body lies resting,” the Brehon told her. “There’s someone I should meet there. Can you show me the way?”
    Cuimhne nodded and took Dalan by the hand. Her strong reassuring presence enveloped him in love and care and he was overwhelmed with gratitude. Suddenly he was a child again and this woman was a doting parent.
    â€œDo not fear,” she whispered. “I am with you.”
    Then together they rose up in the air like steam risingfrom a bubbling cauldron. To Dalan’s delight they flew straight up into the sky and soon he was looking down on the magnificent rowan tree. It was no less awesome from high above.
    In less time than it takes to draw ten breaths they covered the vast distance Dalan had walked in his dream state. On the way they passed high mountains, sweeping valleys edged with more strange trees, and far-off silvery rivers. Below them they could see stone settlements and drifting herds of cattle grazing contentedly in the fields.
    At length Cuimhne led the Brehon back down through the treetops toward the Earth. Dalan clearly observed his own body far below, lying upon his black cloak of Raven feathers by the pond.
    â€œYou mustn’t travel to the dream land lightly,” Cuimhne warned him as she set him down. “You must learn to know when is the best time for such a journey and when it is safer to stay at home. The Faidh is a terrible gift when it can’t be reined in.”
    But Dalan wasn’t listening. He remembered he had a question for her. “You told me the story of the Watchers once,” he began urgently.
    â€œI did.”
    â€œBut you didn’t tell me how I should rid the land of their evil.”
    Cuimhne laughed and hovered closer. “They’re not evil!” she cried in amusement. “They’re the Watchers.”
    â€œBut you warned me they were dangerous!”
    â€œSo they are,” Cuimhne nodded, suddenly serious.“But they will not take matters into their own hands unless the situation is desperate. Their power derives from the evil they inspire in others. They have certain skills of enchantment which they use to great effect but the most