rusakko

It’s the same story every night: in the last twilit hour before dawn, when his sleep is light but still has a firm grip on him, he finds himself in the boat, and Lalli is there with him.

The night is lonely, the trees are cold. Rain beats down on the cleansers’ campsite. A tired soldier standing on guard shivers in the wind and looks up at the dark, cloudy sky, waiting for dawn to arrive.

Emil Västerström doesn’t dare to open his eyes. Instead, he wraps his arms more tightly around the slim body curled up against him and buries his face deeper into the soft, fluffy hair that’s tickling his neck. The boat is rocking gently, and he can feel the sunlight on his back and hear the water lapping at the sides of the boat. Lalli sighs contentedly, tracing meaningless patterns into Emil’s palm with his fingers. If only they could stay like this…

“Time to wake up, boys and girls!”

Emil scrunches his eyes shut, desperately willing himself to stay asleep for just a few more seconds. He can still almost feel Lalli’s ghostly shape in his arms, still hear reeds rustling around the boat, shaken by a gentle breeze.

“Västerström!”

Emil blinks his eyes open, the last traces of his dream dissolving and leaving him clutching his blanket tightly against his chest.

“Time to get up.”

Around him, the tent is already full of yawning, scratching and quiet cursing as soldiers pull on clothes and boots that are still damp from yesterday. Emil reaches for his coat and discovers that the rain has soaked through the fabric of the tent and left his belongings, shoved against the sidewall, wet and disgusting. Yet he’s only half aware of the clammy collar against his neck and the moisture slowly seeping through into his shirt and skin. As he crawls out of the tent into the grey and miserable morning, the dream is still occupying most of his thoughts.

Or rather, the dreams. It’s the same story every night: in the last twilit hour before dawn, when his sleep is light but still has a firm grip on him, he finds himself in the boat, and Lalli is there with him.

He never actually sees Lalli, or the boat for that matter – as soon as he tries to open his eyes in the dream, he wakes up in the dark tent, surrounded by snoring cleansers. But he recognizes the rocking motion and the soft sighing of the reeds swaying in the breeze. They remind him of childhood rowing trips on Storsjön. And of course he recognizes Lalli. Sometimes it’s cool, gentle fingers playing with his hair and quiet Finnish words whispered in his ear, sometimes arms wrapped around his back and warm breath on his cheek, and sometimes, like today, a thin but wiry body snuggling into his arms.

And it always ends too soon.

Hunched down under a pine tree that doesn’t do much to protect him from the rain and trying to force down porridge that reminds him of some of Mikkel’s worst creations, Emil tells himself again that he needs to stop this madness. Put the dreams out of his head. Concentrate on his work. Stop obsessing over a person he might never see again. A person who’s probably returned happily to his old life in Keuruu and certainly won’t be thinking about Emil every day and every single night. Whatever there was between them on the mission is over now. He needs to get a grip and move on.

But even as he swallows the last spoonful of inedible porridge and gets up, Emil knows that he can’t. Oh, he’ll manage to bury the thoughts and memories somewhere at the back of his mind for the day. He’ll do his work properly, maybe even hear some surprised comments about how he’s clearly learned a thing or two during his trip in the Silent world. He’s been surprised himself, sometimes, at how well Sigrun’s lessons have stuck. And maybe some of her courage has rubbed off on him, too. He never gets petrified by fear like he used to do before.

Still, when he settles down under his blanket that night, exhausted and aching all over, he’ll be trying to recall as many memories as he can of the sunny lake, the boat and Lalli. Hoping that, before morning comes, they’ll get to spend a few precious moments together. Even though it’s just a dream.

Lalli Hotakainen scribbles the last words of his report and hands it to the skald, yawning. She briefly looks it over, probably to make sure that he’s written something more than just kyllä, and nods at him. He’s free to go.

The sun hasn’t yet risen above the treetops as Lalli hurries towards the barracks. Good. He should make it unless Emil has woken up early for some reason. He half runs the last steps to his door, throws his rifle on the bed and is blinking his eyes open in the lush greenness of the dreamworld before his head even hits the pillow.

A familiar fear grips him as he approaches the perimeter of his marshy area. What if the stepping stones aren’t there anymore? What if they’ve disappeared as mysteriously as they appeared?

But there they are, just a little bit underneath the dark surface of the silent water, forming an almost invisible path that winds away into the fog. Lalli breathes a sigh of relief. He scans the water for signs of anything lurking beneath the surface. Nothing. Gingerly, trying to avoid unnecessary splashing, he steps onto the first stone. His sielulintu flutters into existence in front of him, its light guiding him forward.

Lalli knows that he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, forbidden and just simply wrong. Onni would be furious if he knew. Mainly about Lalli crossing the ocean in defiance of Onni’s direct order, but also about him intruding into someone’s dream space. And a non-mage’s, too. Lalli can feel the guilt growing inside him with each step as he skips from one stone to another.

In his defence, the first time was almost an accident. They were still back in the tank, then, Emil snoring in his bunk and Lalli curled up underneath it. He was patrolling the dreamworld as he slept, still livid at himself for having allowed those weird ghosts to sneak up on them. And that night, the stones were just suddenly there, though Lalli was absolutely certain that they hadn’t been there before.

Of course, he suspected a trap. But he was also curious. So, knife drawn and the words that would wake his luonto ready in his mind, he followed the path.

It led to the misty perimeter of someone else’s dream space. Through the wall, Lalli could see bright sunlight glittering on the surface of invitingly blue water, golden-yellow reeds lazily moving in a light wind, and a small rowing boat. With a person sleeping in it.

The person was Emil.

Lalli knew that non-mages had their own dream spaces, too. However, they were usually hidden unless you knew where to look. And breaking into them was something only an evil kade would do. Non-mages were both useless and utterly helpless in their dreams: fast asleep and unable to wake up and see the spirit world around them.

He expected the barrier around Emil’s dream space to be as solid as the one around Onni’s, so really, it was a complete accident that he stumbled through. He didn’t anticipate that the barrier would simply melt away under his touch.

He found himself waist-deep in water that was much warmer than the cold dream ocean. It was merely curiosity that led him to wade over to the boat and the sleeping Emil. Why he then ended up staying there, gently gripping the side of the boat and watching the breeze play with his friend’s golden hair – that, Lalli can’t quite explain to himself. It was only when Emil began to shift restlessly and his form began to grow blurry as sleep released its hold on him that Lalli tore himself away.

The next night, he scouted the perimeters of his area to see if there were stepping stones leading to the other crew members’ dream spaces, too. There weren’t. Just the barely visible path from his area to Emil’s. It was strange, so strange that Lalli almost wished he could discuss it with Onni. He even briefly considered asking Reynir to take a message, or to just come and see if the path was visible to him, too. But he didn’t. He didn’t like the idea of explaining his accidental visit to Onni, or of the stupid Icelander barging into Emil’s dreams. It was better to keep the knowledge to himself.

Lalli didn’t intrude into Emil’s area again while they were in the Silent world. He only visited the perimeter from time to time to make sure that nothing else had found the stepping stones. After all, if he wanted to be close to Emil, Lalli could simply slip into the Swede’s bunk at night. He often did.

And once the mission was over, when he was back in Keuruu, he promised himself not to go looking. He told himself that the stones wouldn’t be there anymore, that Emil was too far away, that it would only hurt more to see the vast expanse of water where the path had used to be.

He broke his promise on the very first night. The path was still there, but it was much longer than before. There were dangerously large gaps between the stones, too – he had to jump, making loud splashes that could attract the attention of all kinds of things lurking deep down in the ocean. He didn’t care. When the misty barriers of Emil’s dream space finally appeared in front of him, he pushed right through.

Emil was sleeping peacefully in the boat, just like the first time Lalli had intruded into his dream. But this time, Lalli wasn’t content with just standing there and staring at him. He wanted to curl up next to Emil, to close his eyes and pretend for a moment that they were back in the tank again and would still be together when they woke up.

He didn’t expect the boat to be so wobbly. It rocked violently as he climbed in. Emil woke up. Lalli saw his eyes widen in recognition, heard him exclaim: “Lalli!” Then he disappeared, jerked back into the waking world.

Lalli learned to be more careful. And he suspects, although he doesn’t know for sure, that Emil has learned to be more careful, too. The first nights, he would try to open his eyes or talk, and immediately slipped out of the dream, leaving Lalli alone. He knows better, now. Time moves strangely in the dreamworld, but Lalli thinks they’ve managed to steal more than an hour of forbidden time on some mornings when Lalli has been back early from his scouting duties.

Still, he pauses for just a moment on the threshold of Emil’s area. Reminds himself that he shouldn’t be here, that he’s worse than that rude Icelander. Much worse. He also reminds himself that he may be putting Emil at risk. If something follows him here, and if Emil’s dream space is as easy to walk into for some twisted creature as it is for Lalli... It doesn’t bear thinking about.

Besides, if Emil feels even remotely the same way about Lalli as Lalli does about him, Lalli is being incredibly cruel. Instead of letting Emil live his own life, move on, forget, Lalli is insinuating himself into Emil’s dreams and reminding him constantly of their time together. It’s selfish.

All in all, what Lalli is doing is unforgivable. Still, being aware of this isn’t enough to make him stop.

Emil’s lips curl up into a faint smile as Lalli nimbly climbs into the rowing boat. He’s lying on his side, with an inviting space next to him. Lalli claims it, lifting Emil’s arm just enough to slip under it and curl up against his chest. Emil’s arms tighten around him, pulling him closer. Lalli takes hold of one of Emil’s hands and closes his eyes. For a moment, everything is perfect.

But all too soon, morning arrives in Sweden, and Lalli feels Emil’s arm suddenly grow light and immaterial where it is draped around him. He tries to grasp Emil’s hand harder, but instead finds himself clutching empty air. He’s alone again.

The sun is still warm and bright, but it can’t quite match the heat of Emil’s body. Lalli shivers, abruptly feeling cold, but stays curled up in the boat for just a moment.

Then, sighing, he slowly climbs back into the water and begins the long walk back.