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Dreamer of Dreams

<h2>XV</h2> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> Several days later Eric could have been seen advancing over the frozen ground holding a small child's hand safely clasped in his own. He had wandered and wandered, climbing always higher, never giving way, no matter how overpowering his fatigue. For ever ringing in his ears was the sound of the solitary man's voice begging that he should not disappoint him by turning back, urging him to have courage to go always forward till he had climbed the highest peak!—not to be afraid, because he believed Eric to be of those who win. Ah! but would he win? Would he ever reach the top of those lonely heights? would he ever look down upon the other side? At first the thought of having a companion on his arduous way was a comfort to him. The child's face was sweet, its eyes looked up into his with a trust and confidence that gladdened his spirit. But soon he understood how much more slowly he could advance; how he had to redouble his efforts at every step; how much more often he had to rest because of the toddling feet at his side, and often, very often the child's head pressed against his cheek; he carried it for many weary miles, till his powers were nearly spent. From whence the child came, whose it was, how it had been lost here amongst these drear solitudes Eric could not get it to relate. When he pressed it with questions it would only cry helplessly, and point always before it, as if longing to reach the most giddy heights. The only words it seemed to know were the strange little cry of: "Up, up," or "Over there, over there," and persistently with its tiny hand it pointed to the most distant horizons; and then a feverish shine of expectancy would light its eyes and a flush come over its wan little cheeks. He loved the lonely wee maid, but a frightful apprehension was pressing at his heart—would he be strong enough to save them both? The magic tablets out of the old man's box were diminishing day by day. He wondered how far he still must go before he had scaled the last rock. The child was frail and delicate: its feet were bare, the wretched dress it wore hung in discoloured rags round its thin body. Dark curls clustered round a face of angelic beauty, pale and haggard though it was, out of which the eyes looked like those of a frightened gazelle. With touching gratitude the little creature clung to this man who had saved it in its dire distress, and often Eric would feel the pressure of its warm lips against his hand as they trudged on side by side. Their weary feet were now carrying them across the precipitous incline of a great mountain, the most mighty of all the range, the one whose summit bore the highest peak, the one Eric had singled out as the ultimate object of his steep ascent. Their way lay across wide-spreading mountain meadows, now covered with a white sheet of snow and frost; far ahead lay a dark forest of pine which they would have to traverse before reaching the final ridges beyond. Always close upon his heels followed the silent army of ghosts, and the higher their leader climbed the more hopeful was the look of their eyes; it almost seemed that their bodies were becoming less transparent, that each separate form was losing something of its mist-like frailty. The little maiden was not afraid of them, and often, when weariness had obliged her and her companion to rest, she would stretch out both small arms in their direction, inviting them to share her repose. And then it would happen that out of that sad troop of followers other arms—perhaps the empty arms of what had once been a mother—would answer with the same yearning gesture of love, and yet all the distance of two worlds lay between them, and the bridge had not yet been built over which they could meet! The little one loved to hear Eric play on his flute; so even when most overpowered with fatigue, his breath coming in gasps, he would take it from his pocket and try to call from it its sweetest notes. But often he would have to lay it down, his lips were too dry, his hand shaking overmuch. The continual strain upon his youthful body was telling at last, and often he had to cover his eyes with his hands, because a sudden dizziness would overtake him. He was in such fear that the mysterious tablets in the small box would come to an end that he ate of them but sparingly, giving his companion the larger share. Eric had been accustomed to live in plenty; had he not been the favourite of a king? And now a precious life had been given unexpectedly into his hands—the bright singing bird, the gay flitting butterfly had to learn to live for another! His face had lost its roundness, the smile was still bright and sunny, but his eyes wore an anxious look that seemed for ever searching the distance. A new feeling of softness had stolen into his heart; those two slender arms, that tiny confiding hand within his own, those pattering feet beside him, awoke within his soul sensations of which he had never even dreamed. He felt that gladly would he suffer any pain, gladly lay down his life, if this sweet being that trusted in him could but remain unharmed. Once on a steep pass she had fallen, bruising her delicate feet and cutting her face. He had held her then in his arms as a mother would have done, and an indescribable feeling of tenderness had flooded his heart, whilst her warm tears had wetted his cheek as he pressed her close to him. The sensation of that soft little body clasped against his own during the cold nights they had slept side by side, his cloak covering them both, was to him like treading on Holy ground! And now with growing apprehension he saw the great forest opening its sombre paths before him. The falcon flew leading the way, its white plumage showing like some gigantic flower against the dark branches. What secret terrors were hidden within that green solitude? How would they find their way out? Indeed helpless did he feel; how could he protect this frail child against the cold that was always becoming more biting, searching its way under their skin trying to freeze their blood! Onwards! onwards! it was no good standing still; but the effort was greater with every step. Now the green forest had received them within its thickness; immense trees looked down upon them waving their branches, whispering together, astonished at the sight of two such defenceless travellers venturing themselves within their dreaded obscurity. The snow lay thick on the ground, always deeper the higher they climbed, and there came a moment when the little girl, clinging to her kind companion, cried bitterly, declaring that she could go no farther. In despair Eric looked around him—on all sides the awful solitude shut him in; rows on rows of giants frowned down upon his sorry plight, the wind rustled through their branches that looked like monstrous arms gesticulating in angry discussions over the heads of these two forlorn human beings. To Eric they suddenly appeared like enemies come together from all parts of the world to plan his destruction. Each tree was a living creature threatening him, trying to stop him, to turn him back! He clenched his teeth: he would not go back! He would not give up! He would not allow fear to fill his soul! Was he not to be of those who win? Had not the hermit believed in his courage? and his silent followers had they not put all their trust in his strength? There they stood, fantastic forms hovering on the verge of Eternity, faintly discernible against the trunks of the trees, their haunted eyes turned towards him, their transparent bodies all bending his way in hushed expectation. The wind came down in howling gusts, stirring up the withered needles that lay on the snow, bending the proud trees before its ruthless violence, dashing powdery clouds over the trembling child; then rushing in shrieking hordes through the sombre pines so that their boughs clashed together like an angry mob. Night was coming on; all around Eric could see nothing but trees, trees—an army of Titans allied against him to hinder him reaching his goal. To add to the horror of his pitiful situation, he thought he heard from afar the howling of wolves, and that he saw creeping forms slinking amongst the thickening shadows. Calling upon all his courage, he bent down and gathered the exhausted child into his arms, wrapping the folds of his cloak tightly round her shuddering limbs; and thus weighted he struggled on, his breath coming in gasps, his pulses beating, a mist before his eyes. He toiled through the snow, up, up, winding his way between the trunks of the hostile trees—often stumbling—hitting his weary feet against broken twigs—straining with a feeling that his veins would burst, so great was his exertion. But he would not give way! He would not lay down his precious burden before he could find some cover for the night! To rest there upon that bed of snow would be certain death; his weariness was such, he knew if once he fell it would be to rise no more—he would hide his head in that icy shroud dragging down the precious life with his, to never, never move again. On—on ... but was the child of lead? Why had his arms become so weak? Why were dark vapours floating before his eyes?... Why had he a beating heart in each tingling nerve of his aching body? Why did his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth, whilst fire seemed to course down his throat? And now a great darkness suddenly wiped all things from his sight, and he fell with the impression that he was being suddenly hurled into the night.... But it was not long that he lay thus—instinct was stronger than all; besides, the warm arms of the frightened child seemed to drag him back to life, infusing new vitality into his spent frame; so he struggled to his knees, the little girl still clinging to his neck. He looked around him, desperation in his eyes; they had reached an opening in the wood—a circular glade surrounded by gaunt trees, and nowhere a path to be seen, and nowhere the smallest sign how he could get out of this drear forest, that shut him in like forbidding walls. He pressed the maiden's face close to his, taking comfort from the soft cheek that was laid against his. And the child stood beside the kneeling man, and gently with timid hands stroked his tumbled locks, all the time peering at him with anxious attention. Eric was still too weak to rise to his feet, so he remained kneeling, scanning the solitudes with hopeless bewilderment. The wind still howled through the tree-tops, from which dismal voices seemed to be chanting ever the same dreary ditty, and sometimes it rose to such a din that it was more like unto the wild songs of savage hordes carrying their dead to the grave. The falcon was nowhere to be seen; even that companion had flown away, so that they were alone—quite alone—in this fantastic, oppressive wilderness. A last shine of daylight still rested over all, and with horror clutching at his heart Gundian now perceived that running in lines all over the snow that lay before him were small footprints resembling those of a dog! Ah! but no dogs could inhabit so forsaken a forest; the kindly friend of man would not lose his way amongst these impenetrable thickets; those marks in the snow had quite another explanation, confirming the fear he had had before;—but something must be done: action would revive him,—he could not remain thus to perish miserably without trying at least to save the treasured child. With a superhuman effort he rose to his feet,—for a moment his young body swayed like a sapling in the wind; but he would not—would not give way! What was to be done? He had heard that great fires frightened off beasts of prey—a small flame even was supposed to keep them at bay; and he remembered the legend of a maiden wandering alone in a forest with only a small lamp in her hand protecting her from harm,—surely he would not be weaker than she. Bending down to his companion he told her to help him to gather dry twigs in the underwood; he blew upon her frozen fingers which were stiff and icy like his own. From his pocket he took the precious box, and together they shared one of the remaining tablets which revived them in an extraordinary way; a smile even came back to the face of the wee innocent at his side. Now with feverish haste they were gathering fallen branches from under the hostile trees, that angrily bent their mighty heads towards them, but were unable to reach down to anything so far beneath. The bundle grew and grew, and in their absorbing work they for a moment forgot the terrors around; once even the small girl's voice rang out in a merry laugh, as she dragged a heavy log behind her, almost as large as herself. Soon Eric was crouching beside the stack they had collected and trying with his icy fingers to make the sparks fly from his flint;—many a time did he hit the hard stone in vain, but at last a welcome sound was heard—a soft crackling that became louder, till at last a bright flame shot out over the dry timber they had so patiently heaped up. Both frozen wayfarers stretched out their numbed hands to the saving warmth. As they did so they smiled at each other from either side of the burning faggots; the cheering glow lit up their pinched and tired faces, giving them again the radiant look of health. "Come to me, little one," cried the man, and the small creature flew into his arms; then settling himself down, his back against a tree, quite near the blazing fire, he folded the forlorn little being tightly within his arms, his cloak drawn close over her, regardless of his own comfort, only thinking how to protect her against the deadly frost of the night. He took his sword from its sheath and laid it down beside him within reach of his hand. Long he sat thus, trying to penetrate the darkness, whilst the rhythmic breathing of his tired charge told him that for a while oblivion had mercifully descended upon her. But it was a weary time before he dared close his own burning eyes, so afraid was he that something dreadful might happen to the child whilst he slept. At length Nature would have her way—his head sank on his breast, the strained arms relaxed their hold, and all the misery was wiped from his mind by the kindly wings of sleep. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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