Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

All around him he could see a carpet of lush green grass, covered in fine droplets of rain. The air around him was damp with a fine mist and in the distance he could see a lone figure slowly walking away from him along a beaten path.

  Christill had no knowledge of this place. He had never seen anything like it. The bright green of the grass beneath his feet. The rolling hills spread out in the distance, dotted with thick trees that he had never laid eyes on. He also had no recollection of how he had come to be here. Yet he felt a strange recognition inside himself. As though he had always known this place.

  The strange figure was moving further away and Christill found himself compelled to follow. He started to walk in the same direction, following the unknown man.

  Then a strange whisper pierced the air. "Valerious."

  Christill stopped for a moment and looked around. Had he imagined that. He shrugged and continued in pursuit of the man. Each footstep he took drew him closer yet felt oddly heavier, as though the ground was pulling him down.

  Soon he could make out more of the man. He had blonde hair similar in colour to his own, yet much longer. A dark cloak wrapped his body, hiding most of his frame.

  "Wait," he called out, but the figure did not seem to hear him.

  Christill called out again, picking up pace, though each step became more difficult and he began to struggle against the pull of the ground.

  Growing frustrated he screamed out, "Stop, I just want to talk."

  Once again the figure did not respond, however Christill noticed the man's hands leave his sides and spread out wide at the side of his body. He continued to pursue the man, fighting against the unknown force holding him back. Then he watched as a stream of mist flowed out of the man's hands and onto the ground besides him. Where the mist struck the ground it sprang to life and formed colourful flowers that burst from the grass in an instant.

  The man continued to move and in his wake leave two trails of flowers that continued to spring from the mist leaving his fingers.

  "Please wait," yelled Christill, the force stopping him from catching the man growing unbearably strong. "I need your help. Where am I? Please..."

  "Valerious," came the voice again.

  The whisper had not come from the figure in front of him. He turned, but saw no one else with them.

  "Who said that?"

  The man suddenly stopped and turned his head slightly. Christill caught a glimpse of his face from the side and halted his movement. Then the figure clapped his hands together and a loud blast filled the air.

  Christill screamed and found himself in his room, his blanket thrown from his bed and Jin standing in shock next to him.

  He could not recall ever having had such a vivid dream. The smell of the damp grass was still in his nose. And that face. He would never forget it. It was as though he had peered into a mirror. Yet the face that had looked back at him was older and lined with worry.

  Outside the window the city was pitch black so Christill lay back down on his bed. He did not retrieve the blanket. His body was damp with sweat from the dream. He tried to return to sleep, but the face that he had seen in his dream kept entering his thoughts. Soon his mind turned once more to Siri and his exhaustion overcame him once more.