Dreams

by James Erich

  Worlen stood and stepped forward. “So we will not retreat. The emperor has forced our hand early, but we will meet his challenge. We will win this battle!”

  It was at this moment that the ömem disappeared.

  The candles in the room fluttered as though hit by a slight breeze, and out of the corner of his eye, Sael saw what looked like flickering shadows where the women were sitting. When he turned to look at them full on, only their padded, high-backed chairs remained.

  The room erupted into chaos. Men were shouting and jumping to their feet, drawing their weapons, as if a steel blade could somehow fight… nothing.

  Only the vek and Geilin remained calm. The vek because, to Sael’s knowledge, nothing ever caused his father to panic; and Geilin because, like Sael, he knew what had caused the women to vanish.

  At least they suspected it was connected to the magic Koreh had used to rescue them from Marik. But Koreh could never have done anything on this scale. And Sael could think of no reason why he would want to do it.

  “Snidmot!” Worlen called to his chief wizard. “What manner of magic is this?”

  The wizened old man, who had been ancient even when Sael was a young boy, looked unusually flustered. “I’m not certain, Your Grace.”

  Geilin opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden wind swept through the room, swirling around the chamber, whipping everyone’s cloaks about them and snuffing out all the candles. The room was immediately plunged into darkness.

  “Te Druma!” Geilin shouted. The candles sparked back to life.

  In the center of the chamber were about twenty figures, garbed in dark robes with long cowls pulled down over their faces. But like the man Sael had seen at the inn, there was something not quite there about the visitors. Their robes seemed to be of no determinate color, the material almost transparent, as if literally made of shadow. Sael could swear he could see the floor through the fabric of the robes, yet he could not see the bodies of those who were wearing the robes. All the figures carried wooden staves inlaid with gold in thin patterns resembling leafy vines, capped by gold knobs set with precious stones.

  Three things happened at once. All the vek’s men in the room prepared to charge the intruders, swords at the ready, while several of the robed figures stepped to the side—some to the right and some to the left. At the same time, Snidmot raised his staff and intoned, “Dinu ad Caedni!”

  But Geilin stepped forward and brought his own staff quickly up under Snidmot’s, striking it and causing the blast of fire it produced to hit the far wall, where it made one of the vek’s banners burst into flame.

  Snidmot whirled on his old rival, his face full of rage. “How dare you!”

  But Geilin looked just as angry. “Don’t be a fool! These are not mere men.”

  “Be silent!” the vek commanded as he stood up and stepped forward, pushing both wizards’ staves out of his way.

  A figure emerged from the midst of the robed men.

  To Sael’s horror, the figure’s face was all too familiar. Sael stood, his face suddenly grown ashen. “Koreh?”

  Koreh looked angry, glaring at the vek through his long, tousled black hair. To Sael, he resembled some kind of beautiful, vengeful spirit.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Vek Worlen’s eyes betrayed his fury, but he kept his voice under control. “Who are these intruders you’ve brought into my council meeting, you traitorous whelp?”

  Koreh spoke, but the others with him whispered his words in unison, sending a chill up Sael’s spine. “The Taaweh have held dominion over these lands for tens of thousands of years—long before this room… this city… existed. The ties between the Taaweh and men have faded, so this one has been appointed to act as ambassador.”

  Worlen left the dais, walked down the steps, and strode fearlessly up to the shadowy figures as he spoke, looking directly into those dark cowls where no faces could be seen. “You invade my council chamber and kidnap my ömem—”

  “Your seers are unharmed,” Koreh said, echoed by the Taaweh’s whispers. “They will be returned shortly.”

  The vek stopped in front of him, fixing him with a look of utter contempt. “They will be returned at once. And then you and your friends will be escorted out under guard and held until I can determine who they are and what is to become of you.”

  “Your Grace—” Master Geilin began, but he was immediately silenced by all the Taaweh striking their staves against the stone floor. There was a sound like a tremendous thunderclap that caused even the vek to take a step back.

  “Your threats are of no consequence,” Koreh continued. “The ancient war is about to begin again—a war that will make your battle seem like a petty quarrel. It has been foreseen that, without aid, this city will be wiped from the plain. Therefore, the Taaweh come seeking an alliance with the Dekan of Harleh and to offer Harleh their protection.”

  This was not enough to impress Worlen, however. Recovering from his earlier surprise, the man stepped forward and addressed Koreh in a haughty tone of voice. “I don’t know who these men are. Or why I should believe their claim of ‘dominion’….”

  “Your Grace,” Master Geilin said again, a bit louder. “If I might say something?”

  The vek never took his eyes from Koreh’s. “Yes, Master Geilin. What is it?”

  Geilin took this as an invitation to descend to the center floor. Snidmot quickly followed him, and Sael took advantage of the moment to trail after both of them. The vek’s generals and the other men in the chamber watched the drama unfolding in the center of the room with apprehension.

  “Your Grace.” Geilin lowered his voice when he was near the vek, “These beings have been watching over us since we passed through the forest near Denök. I believe it is possible that they are who they say they are—the Taaweh.”

  “And who, might I ask, are the Taaweh?”

  Little, if anything, would have been taught about ancient magic and mythology in the warrior’s schools the vek had attended. But Snidmot certainly knew of them. Sael saw the two old sorcerers exchange looks.

  “They were the ancient enemies of the Stronni, Your Grace,” Snidmot said, glancing at Koreh apprehensively. Koreh failed to acknowledge him, or indeed anyone. He merely stared blankly ahead while the men deliberated. “They were destroyed a thousand years ago. I cannot believe these men are the Taaweh.”

  “Geilin?”

  The wizard looked uncomfortable. “I confess, Your Grace, that I cannot say with certainty. They appear to be quite powerful and possess magical abilities that our texts attribute to the Taaweh—”

  “Which does not prove that they are in fact Taaweh,” Snidmot interrupted.

  “Folk legends support the possibility that—”

  Sidmot snorted contemptuously. “Folk legends!”

  Worlen raised an impatient hand to silence both men.

  Sael had listened to the exchange with surprise. Though perhaps he should have known Master Geilin would be aware of more than Sael and Koreh had realized.

  “Father,” he said, “Master Geilin is correct. I’ve seen one of these men before, and Koreh has spoken with them. He told me they were Taaweh.”

  “Since he appears to be their pawn,” the vek replied coldly, giving his son a look that indicated they would be discussing this later, “I can hardly trust anything he has to say in the matter.”

  Suddenly the Taaweh struck the floor with their staves again, the resultant thunderclap startling even the vek into silence. “It is on the behalf of iinyeh Koreh that the Taaweh offer this alliance. And it is not for you to accept or decline. It is for the Dekan of Harleh alone.”

  Sael saw a brief flash of anger on his father’s face before the man was able to hide it. “The dekan answers to me. And even if you are who you claim to be, it hardly seems wise to ally myself with the enemies of my gods. I decline your offer. You will leave my city at once.”

  “Your Grace,” Geilin began, his eyes wide with alarm. But before he
could say anything further, it began to rain.

  All eyes instinctively jumped to the ceiling of the council room, where dark storm clouds were forming, writhing and beginning to swirl about the center, illuminated from within by brief flashes of lightning.

  Koreh raised his arms and the Taaweh mimicked the gesture. The rain turned into a downpour and a mist began to creep across the room, spreading outward from where the Taaweh stood. Sael could see the men around them were getting drenched, rivulets of water pouring off their hair and beards. Some tried to pull their cloaks over themselves, but few wore anything that offered adequate protection. Yet Sael, his father, and the two wizards were somehow sheltered. The floor under their feet grew wet and rain splashed in the puddles, but not a drop landed on their heads or clothing.

  This was powerful magic and nothing a vönan could accomplish. Sael looked to his master and saw a mixture of foreboding and curiosity on the old man’s face as he held out a hand to catch some of the raindrops—and failed. Snidmot also knew the implications, and he was having a hard time hiding his fear.

  The vek’s face was, as usual, unreadable. But surely he had to realize the Taaweh could not be dismissed so easily.

  “What you want is of no consequence,” Koreh and the Taaweh told Worlen. “The Taaweh are bound to iinyeh Koreh, and he is bound to the dekan. It is only for the dekan to accept or decline this alliance.”

  Koreh’s oddly blank face turned to look directly at Sael, and for the first time, those beautiful crystalline eyes seemed to focus. In that moment, Sael thought he perceived Koreh in those eyes. The Taaweh were there as well, dark and strange, but Koreh looked directly into his eyes and Sael once again sensed the adoration and affection there.

  Everything in Sael’s rational mind rebelled against the idea of allying himself—and the city—with these frightening beings, even if they had shown benevolence toward Koreh. Regardless of their intentions, accepting their offer would be tantamount to turning his back on the gods he’d worshipped his entire life. And as impressive as the powers of the Taaweh were, they had been defeated in the war with the Stronni a thousand years ago. An alliance with them might prove beneficial in the battle with the emperor’s men, but if the Taaweh declared war on the Stronni, their human allies might very well be destroyed.

  Yet Koreh trusted them. Was he being foolish? Arguably he knew more about them than any man alive. He could still be deceived, of course, but Sael knew him to be clever and shrewd. And he did not trust easily.

  Clearly this was what he’d been referring to when he had asked Sael to trust him.

  “I am not the dekan….” Sael began, hesitantly. He really wasn’t in a position to make this decision—not for all of Harleh.

  But his father surprised him by cutting him off. “Stop talking nonsense!”

  Not wanting to discuss this in front of the Taaweh, Sael took his father’s sleeve and led him to a spot a few feet away. Surprisingly the vek followed without resistance, though he looked furious. Whatever magic protected them from the rain still somehow kept them dry, even as they moved.

  “I haven’t been through the ceremony,” Sael pointed out.

  “Because there hasn’t been time,” his father snapped. “But I am the Vek of Worlen and the acting regent of Harleh. I’ve proclaimed you the dekan and so you are.”

  “You just said the dekan answers to you.”

  “And so you do. But you are still the dekan.”

  Sael bit back an angry response. “What point is there in me making a decision,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice reasonable, “if you’re simply going to override it?”

  “Make your decision,” his father said, curtly. And that was the end of it.

  There was nothing to do but return to the center of the room, his father walking alongside him.

  Conscious that all eyes in the room were watching him, Sael turned his attention back to Koreh. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes were still clear, watching Sael intently.

  “Very well,” Sael said. Then he raised his voice. “As the dekan, I accept your offer of an alliance.”

  He looked to the vek, expecting his father to overrule him. But though something like anger flashed briefly across Worlen’s face, he turned to the Taaweh and announced, loudly enough for all to hear, “I will uphold the dekan’s decision.”

  A chorus of murmurs greeted this announcement. The warriors surrounding them were clearly unhappy with the way things were going, as well as with being drenched to the skin. They weren’t enamored of sorcerers and magic. For most of them, the only magic they ever saw was in the form of fireballs and other magical weapons being hurled at them on the battlefield. They tolerated the vönan in the vek’s employ, viewing them as necessary, if distasteful. But to bring a group of strange sorcerers into their midst on the eve of battle must have seemed extremely foolhardy.

  No one was more surprised by the vek’s announcement than Sael. But then he’d never been very good at figuring out what was going on in his father’s head.

  Koreh spoke once more as the Taaweh. “Your enemies will emerge from the forests after nightfall, but they will not attack until morning.”

  “And where will you be when they do attack?” Worlen asked.

  “When the battle begins, Gyishya will rise.”

  Then the Taaweh—Koreh among them—whirled about and disappeared, dropping through the floor in a flurry of black cloaks. At the same moment, the rain stopped, but the hissing of water against flagstone was almost immediately replaced by a cacophony of women’s voices.

  The ömem had reappeared, but they were clutching their heads, shrieking and wailing. It was impossible to sort it all out, but Sael caught fragments:

  “—darkness!”

  “—the gods—!”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Where are all of you?”

  “I’m blind!”

  THE ömem, it was soon discovered, were not physically blind. What they were was cut off from the Eyes and from one another. Since ömem were born with the Sight, this was the first time in their lives their inner vision had truly gone dark. Most of the women were terrified, and a few had gone nearly catatonic.

  The vek saw to it that someone looked after them, though what could be done, beyond calming them, no one knew. Then he announced that the council meeting was suspended until the church bells chimed Cabbon.

  “You three,” he said, addressing Sael and the two elderly wizards, “follow me.”

  He was furious, Sael knew, though he seemed outwardly calm. It wasn’t until they arrived at his private study that Worlen lost his temper.

  “As if we don’t have enough to concern ourselves with an army arriving on our doorstep at any moment! Did any of you know of this?”

  Though he had addressed all three of them, he was looking directly at Sael. His son replied, “No, Father. I had no idea.”

  “But you aided him in bringing these sorcerers into Harleh.”

  “I had nothing to do with their appearance. From what I understand, the Taaweh can come and go as they please. Walls and locked doors can’t keep them out.”

  “What else do you know of them?” Worlen demanded.

  Sael thought back over everything Koreh had told him. “Not very much. Koreh believes they are the gods who fought the Stronni a thousand years ago. They travel unseen through the shadows, and they know powerful magic that I’ve only heard of through the archives.”

  “Yet, based on this scant knowledge, you welcomed them into our city!”

  “You asked me to make a decision.”

  “And you chose foolishly,” his father snapped. “We know nothing of their true nature. They’ve managed to convince an uneducated peasant that they are gods, but I would have expected better of you and Geilin.”

  Sael gritted his teeth at the slur against Koreh, but kept his mouth shut.

  Geilin stepped forward, saying diplomatically, “Your Grace, they do demonstrate abilities that are out
side the realm of Stronni magic. Surely there is reason to consider—”

  “This is preposterous!” Snidmot interrupted again. “Your Grace, Master Geilin must know that what he and the dekan are proposing is flatly impossible.”

  Geilin merely quirked an eyebrow and replied calmly, “The Chronicles are maddeningly vague about the so-called demise of the Towe. It’s certainly possible that they survived.”

  “But they haven’t been seen for a thousand years,” Snidmot objected.

  “On the contrary. People living in the countryside tell many stories of beings which could be—”

  “Superstitious nonsense!” Snidmot’s face was growing red, and he brandished his staff at Geilin as if he wanted to strike him with it. “You can’t expect us to gamble the safety of Harleh on the campfire stories of illiterate country bumpkins!”

  Geilin seemed unfazed by Snidmot’s flare of temper, but before he could reply, Worlen held up his hand for silence. “Yet we already have,” he said.

  Sael felt all eyes turn to him once more. He took a deep breath and said, “I believe they are the Taaweh. And I made my decision based upon that.”

  “You made your decision based upon your feelings for Koreh.” The vek clearly did not consider this to be the way the dekan should behave, and if that had been Sael’s only reason, he would have been forced to agree.

  “Partly,” Sael admitted, “but not completely. I was also swayed by the Taaweh’s prediction of Harleh being wiped from the plain.”

  “They proposed an alliance and predicted our demise if we failed to accept. This is hardly impressive.”

  “The Taaweh have little to gain from this alliance,” Sael countered, “and they risk losing the advantage if their presence is discovered by the Stronni too early. The only reason they’re offering this alliance is because of Koreh. And one of their abilities appears to be prescience. I don’t believe Harleh’s destruction was an empty threat.”