He had never imagined that the caravan could travel so swiftly. After leaving Andron's southern gate, Christill had seen it far in the distance, flanked by the convoy of guards. And though he had followed straight away, he slowly lost them as the days passed. Foolishly he had believed that one man would have no trouble keeping up pace with such a large troop of armoured soldiers. Yet, by the morning of the third day the caravan had disappeared from sight. The determined march of the Queen's men was more persistent than he ever thought possible.
With no knowledge of their next destination, Christill was forced to follow his instincts. The road south passed hundreds of forks that branched off to the small villages and cities of the West. Christill used what tracking skills he could recall from his lessons in Hamal to follow the mark of the caravan. However the abundance of wagons using the highway made tailing the caravan difficult.
He followed the trail for most of the third day and reached a small town aptly named Hillscape, for its location on the peak of a wide hillock. Here Christill persuaded an elderly farmer to sell him one of his ageing horses. At first reluctant to lose one of his oldest friends, the farmer made the trade and sent Christill on his way. To his delight he also learnt that the caravan had passed through Hillscape that very morning.
Thus, eager to make up lost ground, Christill mounted his new charger, Polthus, and rode hard along the coastal road. It took him two further days of riding until he finally caught a glimpse of the Queen's caravan in the distance. Christill dismounted and walked the rest of the way until nightfall, allowing Polthus to regain his strength. Almost fifteen years of age, Polthus still showed great endurance.
By the time the moon had taken dominance in the sky, Christill had reached a fork in the road that turned south towards the Crescent Lake. He could see the dim lights of the caravan far down the road and decided to make his own camp. Moving off the road he found himself a spot amongst a copse of flowering Tulip trees. And within moments of wrapping himself up he had drifted to sleep.
Unbeknownst to Christill, a green mist began to form in the air around him. It snaked and swirled around his body and began to pulsate with an eerie light. Gradually the mist moved towards his head and found its way into his body. It streamed silently through his nose, ears and mouth.
Christill's sleep was unexpectedly pierced by a strange voice.
"What is your name?"
Christill opened his eyes and found himself in a beautiful forest. It extended densely into the distance in all directions, full of healthy trees and colourful foliage. Never had he seen so many different forms of plant life in one space. Some he recognised, the rest appeared otherworldly.
"What is your name?" asked the strange voice once more.
The voice sounded from within his own mind. He could not distinguish what it sounded like, or even whether it was male or female. Yet he knew that it was coming from inside of him.
"What is your name?" repeated the voice.
He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Trying as hard as he could, no noise would escape his lips. His heart beat rapidly and his stomach cramped and turned anxiously. He opened his mouth to scream, but once more, not even a hint of sound penetrated the forest. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, running into his eyes. Nervously he wiped his brow with his sleeve, his hand shaking uncontrollably with fright.
"Relax, take deep breaths," said the voice in his head.
Christill relaxed slightly. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady. He needed to consider his situation rationally. The voice was in his mind. He could not hear it, yet knew what it was saying. A thought suddenly occurred to him. He focused hard on the words that he wanted to say. "Christill Greyspell is my name."
He heard his own words echo through the forest, though he had not opened his mouth. Through his thoughts alone he had managed to convey his message.
"Well done, Christill," answered the voice.
The forest began to fade away, slowly losing its colour, then disappearing altogether, leaving Christill standing in a void of darkness. He was surrounded by the sheer blackness, but could see his own body clearly. Then as quickly as the darkness had appeared it was gone.
Christill now found himself standing in the Disciple's classroom in Hamal, watching a young version of himself being yelled at by the loathsome Disciple.
A sharp stabbing pain entered Christill's head and he fell to his knees. Around him the world changed. He saw visions of his life in Miirvk, then images of his capture by Captain Falneren. Rapid glimpses of his life were playing out before him. The pain in his head was increasing with every new scene. Finally he saw the execution of the two Miirvkin soldiers and the pain became almost unbearable. He let out a loud scream and noticed that it pierced the air and rang out loudly into the night.
He looked around and saw Polthus standing next to him, spooked by Christill's violent scream. He was once again in his campsite. His blanket lay in the dirt several feet away and his clothes were drenched with sweat. He did not know what had just happened, but he was sure that it was no dream.
In a campsite not far from Christill's, Dievu Ilphuki removed his fingers from his temples and allowed the green mist swirling about him to dissipate. He let out a small murmur of approval and returned to the carriage.
Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One) Page 39