*
Godwyn lay down with his chin resting on his arms looking over the edge of his cloud. Far below him between the rich grassland of Sel Fereden to the north and Cortuine to the south he could see the Angel Road, winding its way through the grassland. Below the road were the Lyr Sea and the Entlewood, above it the Five Lakes and the Crystal Road to Whistlewood. The Angel Road stretched for over a thousand leagues, eventually reaching the eternal city of Fenn.
Beneath the lofty heights of the cloud city of Archaven there were a number of small towns dotted about. The Angel Road itself continued until it met the Dreamstone wall. At the end of the road nestled up against the wall was the town of Fairwane. It was to Fairwane which Godwyn now turned his attention. Down by a stream several child dreams played the games of the young. They took turns leaping across the stream, working their way up to the wider points where some of them inevitably fell in, squealing with delight as the cold water rushed over them.
Godwyn watched them from several leagues up in the sky, following as they abandoned the stream for a game of hide and seek. From his vantage point he could see them all, it brought him great pleasure to watch the seeker moving about sometimes to within a few feet of his friends hidden behind a rock or up a tree and yet not seeing them. These were dreams born in Avalen, happy dreams with no knowledge of conflict.
His reverie was disturbed by footsteps on the cloud which could not be heard but could be felt. “My Son”, said the Father as he knelt down next to Godwyn.
“Father” said Godwyn, lifting himself up so that he sat cross-legged opposite Arcturion. Today he sported the face of a younger person, flawless features and close-cropped blonde hair; only the eyes were the same, as ever, pools of liquid grey. Godwyn recognised his father not so much by his features but by his presence, which remained the same no matter what his physical form.
“What were you doing?” asked Arcturion, his voice a perfect unattainable note that would drive musicians mad as they tried to emulate its perfection but failed.
“Watching the children, their lives are simple, happy, un-blighted.”
“You feel our actions will affect them?”
“How could they not?”
“Do you trust me no longer, Godwyn?” asked Arcturion.
“I trust you, but our enemies are moving”, Arcturion nodded and Godwyn continued, “the dragons have learned of Cyra's demise.”
“As we knew they would”, said the Father.
“Their desire for vengeance will overpower any other sense, they will bring their fire to our lands”, said Godwyn.
“Kalwyn returns to us soon, with the greater part of the legion. The dragons will not prevail here while our strength persists.”
“Kalwyn returns without the dreamer”, said Godwyn.
There was a tremor of irritation, it did not move the face of Arcturion but the cloud felt it and therefore so did Godwyn. “The dreamer is not in the hands of the Palace of Fenngaard, for now that is enough. Our allies from Bloodren will soon lay siege to Eredyss and secure the dreamer in time.”
Now it was Godwyn who felt irritation. “Our allies in Bloodren? Truly I did not think to see the day when we joined hands with the demons”, he said to his Father.
“We are two sides of the same coin my son, one day you may realise that. The differences between us are the split seconds at the start of the dream; we ended up as we did and they as they did.”
“They are vile creatures”, protested Godwyn.
“Some might say that we are too based on our actions”, said the Father. Godwyn looked troubled at this. “Such things are based on perspective my son, do not trouble yourself for our perspective encompasses all”, reassured Arcturion.
They said nothing for a time. Godwyn looked back down to Fairwane. The children were gone, called home to eat by the dreams which bore them. At first Godwyn had thought it strange that many of the dreams of Avalen tried to emulate the mortals who would have dreamed them. However, having observed them for many years from up on high it had clicked, they emulated the happiness and the sense of family. Avalen was a land of wonder, but in the midst of it there were many quite happy to turn their back on the magic and embrace as normal a life as they could get.
“Clouds gather Father”, he said after a long silence.
“They do.”
“There is chaos in Fenn. They say the King has fallen.”
“They are right.”
“Is that what we wanted Father, did we see that in our perspective?”
Arcturion shrugged at the question. “It matters not who sits on the Nested Throne, nor who wields the Hammer of Fenn. Our plans remain the same.”
“And what of the shadow of the jackal?” enquired Godwyn.
“He has left it far too late to make his move, we have nothing to fear from those long dead.”
Godwyn wished that he felt his Father’s confidence. Perhaps what bothered him most was that their plans remained the same. He'd harboured his doubt since day one, since the prophecy, for Arcturion meant to take them to the place where dreams do not go. The legion followed his will as they always had, but Godwyn had asked himself the question over and over again: what fate would lie in store when the dreams of angels met the real thing? Their path was beyond the Brazen Gate and the closer they came to it the more doubt Godwyn felt.
Beyond the Dream Page 47