Disclaimer: who wants to claim a nightmare?
Happy Halloween!
The dance spun on.
Lucy's breathing, already swift from the fear she tried to master, came in pants from the swift pace, and she fought to draw deeper breaths, too slow enough to retain the oxygen when her body desperately demanded air.
The song drew to a close, the music bridging down, till the last note came; a long, deep note that went on and on while Lucy continually spun.
The note ceased. Lucy fell on one knee, still gasping, trying to calm herself enough to be ready to run.
But then she heard footsteps, light and firm, and she looked up. A tall shape, long hair falling past the shoulders and onto the flowing dress, walked from between two of the fires. She was tall enough to be a Dryad or Naiad, but the way she moved—Lucy had seen enough of the Dryads to know their bending, graceful movements, and of the Naiads to know their fluidity of form and step. This figure seemed almost to float, her hands held out from her sides, one finger extended straight and the others curving slightly beneath it. Her dress shone white against the dark trees, and her hair looked white, but shimmering with undertones of blue.
"Come," and her voice was the soft whisper of a breeze, "now that I have seen you dance, it is time to join the others." She held one hand out towards Lucy.
Lucy stared at the figure. The music had ceased and her will was her own; she did not take the outstretched hand.
The woman saw her resistance and laughed, a light, happy sound. "It will not do you any good to resist," she coaxed. "It will be so much easier for you if you take my hand."
Lucy stood, shoulders heaving as she breathed. She looked past the white-clad figure to the woods, took one step, one single step to run—before both her hands were seized by two others. The woman's fingers were as cold as winter, as strong as Oreius', and at her touch Lucy began dancing again, the woman's mouth opening in another song. The two swirled around each other, leaning back and pulling on each other, their faces flickering between the light of the flame and the shadows that were cast. Lucy looked up and up, seeing no smile, no laughter, as the Fauns had shown, only the open mouth pouring out music, and the sky-blue eyes that watched Lucy with a sickening hunger. She did not release the Queen's hands. Lucy's own fingers grew cold, then her palms, the frost beginning to creep up her arms even while her blood pounded hot and fast in her head and her legs.
This dance was shorter but harder. The cold made it worse, so much worse, and the singer pulled on her numb arms as they spun, forcing Lucy to strain against the weight even as they spun themselves out and out. It took so much, so much just to breathe, to move, and yet Lucy couldn't stop. Her arms wouldn't drop, no matter how much she begged them to let go. When the music ceased and the woman let go, Lucy felt tears like cool rivulets down her hot cheeks.
"Now you will be a good girl and dance with the others, will you not?" the sweet voice inquired. The captive glanced at the captor; the tall woman did not appear out of breath or tired. Lucy could feel her own legs trembling, and every muscle ached. Instead of answering, she scrubbed her cheeks with her numb hands, and then paused, leaving them there, feeling her head cool and her hands warm up.
"Will you take my hand?"
Lucy let her own hands fall from her face and tucked them behind her back. "Aslan's own do not join hands with evil."
"Oh, Daughter of Eve, I am not evil." That light laugh sounded again, as musical as the songs she sang, and Lucy's stomach twisted. It felt wrong for something so pleasant to be poisonous.
"Your dance hurts." Lucy clasped her hands behind her back, holding them steady, and looked up, straight into those blue-ice eyes.
"A little, perhaps, but you would not take my hand. If only you had danced as you were supposed to! I take a little of your energy, of course, but that is a small payment for the pleasure of the dance I give. A little of your energy," she repeated, laying her frozen hand against Lucy's cheek, "and a little of your warmth. You have so much of that to spare."
Her hand felt even better than Lucy's had, and Lucy fought to think, to explain why this was still so wrong. Her tutor's lessons on logic and rhetoric flashed into her mind, but it seemed disjoined—and then, clearly, she could hear what Edmund would say, were he sitting in judgement. "It's not a fair exchange if we don't have a choice."
"Oh, but it's not I who doesn't give you the choice, little dancer, it's my music. Now, I am hungry. Will you take my hand and dance with the others, that my meal may be spread, or will you be my only dish tonight?"
Lucy felt cold running through her at the implications. "You are not taking any more Fauns!"
"That is not for you to decide. But you're right, I won't be taking any more Fauns. I'm not done with the old ones yet. Now it's time to dance." She reached around Lucy with one long arm and took one hand, pulling out to the side by force. She reached her other hand out on her other side, and Lucy stifled a shriek when she saw a ghost-like Phor, Mr. Tumnus's friend, appear. He held the singer's hand on one side, and on the other his hand reached out to empty space.
Another hand appeared, taking Phor's, and Tontu joined the circle. He also appeared translucent, the firelight shining clearly through his panting form.
Around in a circle the forms appeared, Munma, Duaslus, Ricus, Non, and Lucy shuddered when Onia appeared last, her hand slipping into Lucy's. She looked more solid than Non, and Non than Ricus; Lucy could feel the fingers trembling inside her hand, cold with fear, but nearly warm compared to the icy hand holding her other side. She met Onia's horrified gaze, and, though she could see Onia's lips shaping the cry Your Majesty!, she could not hear her.
Then the first note of the song sounded, and the dance began.
This was a circle dance, coming inward and falling back, turning, bowing to the trees, turning back in and bowing to each other. Lucy, remembering the dances at the Festival, ached. There had been laughter; here, as she caught a glimpse of Ricus' face, she could see only horror. His eyes were wide with pain and fear, and his hands clenched in anger.
A spin, and Tontu stood beside her, tears falling down his cheeks. He caught her hands, obedient to the music, and pulled her into the middle to twirl her. The singer's notes rose higher, triumphant, and Lucy nearly fell. Her legs felt so weak.
Tontu's translucent arms caught her, as cold as a winter breeze, and she could almost hear his despairing apology.
The music whirled them away, and she danced with Phor next. She could not feel his hands.
On and on the dance went, Lucy feeling wearier as the song grew stronger. She could not stop dancing.
She could not stop moving.
She could not save the Fauns she danced with.
Munma caught her waist to lift her up, his arms trembling; Non also lifted up Onia. Above the dance Lucy saw the sky, the stars. Aslan, Aslan, come help us now. But even as she prayed, a shadow blocked the stars from sight.
The notes descended and Munma swung her down, staggering, and Lucy saw his mouth open in a cry of pain as his worn hooves slammed into the ground.
The music went on and she whirled away, one hand outstretched. Phor caught it in those fingers she couldn't feel, and they turned to bow to the trees.
Turning to bow in, and the singer caught her hands, face triumphant, blue eyes glowing, and mouth still open in the demanding song.
But she sang the last note, her mouth closing, her long chilling fingers still wrapped around Lucy's hands.
And Lucy, panting, looked up at her and tried not to cry. "What are you?"
That laugh again, and the singer released one hand to pat her head. "I am a Lele,* a creature of the air as your Dryads and Naiads are creatures of wood and water. I never liked your land before, it had no warmth to share. But since the four of you came, the warmth is…pleasant. Abundant. So I meant to take at least one of you, to see what it is about you that warmed this land. And you, little dancer, were the warmest of the four."
"Please let us go." Lucy glanced over her shoulder at the ghostly Fauns, faces streaked with tears or frozen in despair.
"Of course I won't! I haven't been this warm in a long time. Come, come, back to the dance!" She opened her mouth and the music took over again.
Lucy could not explain, later, how long that went on. Song after song, some twirling, some stomping, squares and circles and pairing up—the night dragged on and on. Her feet hurt, and her legs staggered more than stepped. Breathing grew so hard. And every so often a cold hand would seize hers, and every hurt grew worse.
I do not think young Daughters of Eve have the strength to dance the entire night, Oreius had said.
She did not, and she did not have a choice.
When the hand was not holding hers, it held the Fauns, and Lucy hated that, hated it as fiercely as she loved. Every time the hands held their, the Fauns grew more translucent. Munma and Ricus tried to take the hands the most, shielding Phor, who was almost gone, and Onia and Lucy, but the dance demanded that each person take their turn.
Lucy couldn't save them. She could not even save herself.
And Lucy wondered where the Lele would leave her body, and what it would look like when it was found. She found herself crying, and praying inside again. Anytime she switched partners with the Fauns, she'd whisper Aslan's name. Some of the Fauns looked back at her with hope; others with terror.
And still the dance went on.
* I do think there are good Leles, like there are good and evil Dryads, but I could hardly write a Halloween story without a villain, so…bad Lele it is. The red-coloured grass, dancing, and their homes I cobbled together from Greek myths. Also, this should be the chapter I publish on Halloween day, so I tried to make it spooky/creepy/chilling. The memory of that nightmare is still vivid. Did it work?
