Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1)

by Jeffrey Collyer

  Aneh’s face now started to show sadness as she continued with her story, “Then, little more than a thousand summers past, a strange white messenger appeared from Dawnseer Peak in the west, foretelling the birth of a child to Ashael. It was not believed that Ashael could bear children and the news was greeted both with wonder and mistrust. The child was prophesied to lead the people of Aylosia to unimagined heights of achievement, and the whole people of the land rejoiced when Ashael gave birth to a baby boy, naming him Jashmarael.”

  Michael waited for more of the story, and spoke only when silence had remained for a couple of minutes, Aneh having become pensive. “That sounds amazing, but you don’t look happy about it. What happened?”

  “No,” she said, “It was not good. Whether the white messenger was deceiver or deceived, it is not known, but Ashael’s child was full of darkness. He grew to despise those with a Weaving, believing they threatened his destiny, and devised a plan to expel them from the city. He hid his hate from Ashael, secretly building his power until even his own mother was forced to flee. Those with a Weaving were cast from the city, families divided as fathers hated their child for their gift, or children hated their mothers. And so those evicted became the Elahish: the outcast.”

  Aneh now looked away. “Jashmarael built an army and destroyed the Talleth. His soldiers also sought out the underground caverns and buried or hid those they could discover. The villages were destroyed so that all would either live under his guidance in Aperocalsa, or would be Elahish. He eventually sent his warriors to seek the Elahish, to destroy us completely from the land of Aylosia. He almost succeeded, but a small few survived and retreated to the forests where they could hide and defend themselves, and where we remain to this day.”

  Another pause followed, and Michael respected the silence for a moment before asking, “What happened to Ashael?”

  “We do not know,” Aneh sighed, now looking distant. “Jashmarael’s heart became so evil that eventually he sought even the life of his mother, and she was forced to flee the land. That was a thousand winters past. Jashmarael has long since been replaced by men who simply call themselves the Guardian, but each in his turn maintains a hatred towards us and would have us destroyed. We remain the Elahish.”

  Michael pondered on the story and the sorrow in Aneh’s voice as she related it. She had told it as if it were history, although with the timescales involved much of it must have been little more than myth. But still, he had seen coloured stones that did indeed seem to radiate feelings of peace and love. Perhaps the legend had been created to explain them, he thought.

  “So, all you have left of her is those Kerid stones?” he asked.

  She returned her gaze to him as she replied, “Many believe that she will return again, but until then, we have only the Kerid stones, found in those few caverns which we have discovered.”

  The mood had become sombre, and it had now grown late into the night. There was another full day’s walk tomorrow, but Michael didn’t want to end the night on such a tone. Attempting to lighten the mood, he said, “Well, maybe being outcast isn’t so bad.”

  Aneh looked at him with a quizzical expression, as he continued, “Well, what I’ve seen so far is all pretty amazing. And even if we have to wander for another thousand years, I once heard this great expression: something like, ‘You must not judge the value of the destination by the ease of the journey’.”

  His smile was returned by Aneh now, and they parted for the night to their bedrolls.

  ***

  After lunch the following day, Aneh was finally released from her duty to accompany Arevu and her son, and Michael felt much happier when she came to walk alongside him. Even when the air grew cold, and a light rain turned to sleet, his heart was warmed as they spoke happily, on occasion Aneh teaching him some new thing of their land or their customs.

  During the late afternoon, he asked about how they measured time; something that he had been wondering for several days. He had heard many different words used but few that were familiar to him. Some of Aneh’s explanations he had worked out for himself, but others still seemed complicated to him. The Elahish talked about “dawns” rather than “days”. They didn’t seem to have a week, but had “moon” for a month, and a “half moon” to divide it.

  It was when coming to “years” that it became most confusing for Michael. When they spoke of their ages, Aneh said, “I have seen eighteen springs”.

  “But when you spoke of Ashael last night, you talked about it being a thousand winters ago. And now you’re talking about springs. What’s the difference?” he asked.

  They were both looking ahead as they spoke, careful not to fall on the loose rocks that covered the small hills they were crossing.

  “When we speak of ages long ago we usually speak of summers, though not always. But for our own times, the season we name tells of our heart. I say I have seen eighteen springs because I am happy to live and to learn each day, but if my life was one of sadness, I might say I had seen eighteen winters. One who felt that their living was tiring to them might say that they had lived eighteen autumns, and one who was merely content with life eighteen summers. It is not exact, though.”

  Although he knew Aneh couldn’t see, he nodded at her explanation, thinking it made some kind of sense.

  Aneh then asked, “So what time has past since your birth?”

  He could have answered quickly – he knew that Aneh was aware of his sad life – but he thought for a minute before saying, “As you know, I don’t know exactly how old I am, but it’s probably pretty close to your age. So, I’ll say that I have seen eighteen winters, more or less,” he risked a glance at her as he cautiously added, “but since I’ve been in Aylosia, my time with you has been like spring.”

  As Aneh looked back at him with a smile, he tripped on a rock, having not been looking where he was going, and almost fell over. But for once, he wasn’t overly self-conscious of it, laughing along with Aneh as he regained his balance, and he thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the afternoon walk, even as the sleet slowly turned whiter and began to float down from the skies.

  ***

  The ground was too wet for the snow to lay, and it soon stopped falling, but they raised the tents that night to keep the warmth from the heat stones from disappearing into the night sky. Michael quickly fell into a deep sleep.

  He didn’t know what time it was when he was awoken with the commotion. Something in the sound of the watch-guards’ voice instantly made Michael worried, and he quickly pushed his face from his tent. The three Shosa routinely slept outside the tents of those they had claimed, and as he looked outside, he saw Peran staring intently at the forest, ears flat, before she sprung into the darkness; the other two Shosa mirroring her actions.

  By now, the warriors – including the Sword and Bow Weavers – were readying themselves for fighting, an anxious tension building rapidly. Erena, the Bow Weaver, immediately began giving orders to the two archers as the three of them placed themselves strategically at the edge of the camp where the Shosa had disappeared. Meanwhile, Devu carried his sword as he directed the three remaining warriors after the cats. As they disappeared into the trees, he heard only one word distinctly: “Chet’tu”.

  As the others now exited their tents, Arevu spoke, “We are not warriors, but if needs must, protect Aneh. The Healing Weaver must retain her strength.”

  The knot that was tightening in Michael’s stomach slowed its twisting at hearing that, knowing at least that of all of them, Aneh would be safest. But it was only seconds later that he began hearing the hisses and growls as Chet’tu and Shosa began their fight. To his ears, it seemed no further than the battle he had witnessed a handful of dawns past, although from the cacophony that reached his ears he knew that there were more creatures this time. He remembered that a single Shosa had not been able to defeat two Chet’tu and worried that they might be outnumbered by the vicious creatures.

  The feeling of fear in him intensified as
screeches and yelps were added to the noise. He hoped that Peran wouldn’t get hurt, and that Devu and the others would keep the evil creatures at bay.

  His worries were interrupted when Berah took large steps towards him, his face red with anger. “You!” he shouted at him, “You have brought them here!” His face was twisted with rage, spittle forming at the edges of his mouth. Drawing a secreted dagger as he grew close, he screamed, “I will end your threat to us now!”

  Aneh started to run towards him. “No!”

  Lohka followed, “Berah!”

  But they would not get to him in time, and only their Hafashal was heard by Berah, “Cease! Not now, Berah!”

  Michael hadn’t moved – too stunned with events to react. In a daze, he glanced down at the dagger that was now held still in the air only six inches from his stomach. Berah angrily spun on his heels, but said over his shoulder, “You will pay later, traitor!”

  By now, the sounds of the battle were already getting closer, a loud screech alerting everyone’s attention to their collective danger, and breaking Michael’s trance. At the noise, Erena turned her head slightly and shouted back at them, “They arrive shortly. Flee into the woods, and we will hold them!”

  No sooner had she finished speaking than along with her companions, she began to loose her arrows. The archers looked skilled to Michael, effortlessly taking an arrow from their quivers: nocking, drawing and releasing the shaft in a single seamless movement. For a brief moment, Michael forgot his danger as he saw Erena, instantly realising just why Aneh was right to suggest he should fear a Bow Weaver when they had first met. Her movement was so fast that her arms seemed to shimmer with speed: the bow was upright, then horizontal, then at an angle, though Michael never saw it move – arrows flying from it at a speed he found breath-taking.

  The spell was broken in a terrifying instant, however, as a huge black jaw suddenly appeared out of nowhere from the forest, its long fangs leading the rest of its body in a perfectly aimed leap for one of the archers. At least five arrows hit it in the half a second it took for it to reach its destination, two of those in its head. But it took a further volley from Erena through the base of its skull before it was stilled, an archer lying with her neck torn under its ugly fur.

  Aneh instinctively began to rush to her aid, but Lohka grabbed her before she could get away. Arevu shouted, “Run!”

  Michael could hear other beasts nearing, and he turned without thinking to heed the order. He had been standing nearest the danger, and so trailed the others, though not by much, but his entire body froze again when another of the Chet’tu appeared in front of them. Not stupid creatures, Michael thought, realising it had quietly circled the camp, knowing that they would seek their escape this way when their protection was too far away to help. Though it stood in front of them all, it was looking directly at Michael, its mouth open, fangs dripping their poisonous fluid.

  As the others changed direction to seek escape, Michael remained stationery, his shaking body his only movement. He knew it was the best chance – the only chance – for Aneh and her mother to live. Perhaps, he thought, if it took him, the creatures would leave and the others would be safe. Sensing his determination to save his companions, the creature walked slowly towards its prey, as if savouring the anticipation of satisfying its murderous desire. It’s their only chance. I have to die.

  It was no more than five feet from him and crouched to launch, its jaws opening wide. Michael closed his eyes, waiting for the pain he knew was going to arrive…

  Whoosh!

  A wave of blazing air hit him. Suddenly opening his eyes, he saw a huge wall of flame had erupted in front of him. The instant heat was intense, forcing him to stumble and then fall onto his back as he sought to escape the fire. He strained to look back at the burning partition, still fearful of his attacker, but saw that the flame had caught the Chet’tu; its still body already charred. The exposed skin on his face still felt pain from the heat, although he had moved back probably twenty feet. He couldn’t see any source for the fire but determined he would worry about that later.

  A quick look around revealed that his companions were now lost to him, but he tried to remember where they had run, and giving the fire a wide berth, rounded it and headed into the trees. It was quieter here, and he briefly thought that perhaps he might be safe. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness from the bright flames, however, a new sight stopped his heart.

  Several pairs of eyes were glowing at him through the darkness.

  He was by now too overwhelmed with the unending danger to count them, a new fear growing in his chest. He had to concentrate on his breathing to avoid hyperventilating. It wasn’t just the luminous eyes fixed on him that he found so unsettling, but the fact that they were deep red in colour.

  Again he stood still, knowing he couldn’t return to the camp where by now surely more Chet’tu had arrived. One of the new creatures slowly came closer to him. It was standing on two legs and rose about four feet. Although it wore a tunic, it certainly wasn’t human: its charcoal black skin making it barely visible even as it got within a few feet of him. It would have been invisible if not for the fire that still blazed in the distance behind him. It had no hair on its head, and its nose was flat. Small flaps covered holes on the sides of its head which Michael assumed were its ears. But still its eyes were what held Michael. There were no whites there. Nothing but blood red returned his gaze, and Michael couldn’t help but think that it looked like something straight from hell.

  The thing widened its mouth as it approached him, baring its black razor-sharp teeth that reflected the glow of the fire. When it came close enough to reach for him with one of its long thin arms, the sharp black fingernails moving like daggers towards him, Michael finally flinched. Deciding that a sprint into nowhere would be preferable to whatever the thing had in store for him he set off into the nearest part of the woods that looked empty.

  He didn’t turn even when he heard fighting break out behind him; heard a new type of screech that must have been the hell-spawn. As the sound started to become more faint, he decided to risk a glance behind him. As he did so, his foot caught on a rock or protruding root of a tree and he fell forward, hitting the side of his face on something hard.

  Crashing to the ground, he tried to roll onto his back. He lay still for what seemed like an age, wondering whether he would be safer if he stayed where he was. Perhaps lying on the ground he would be hidden, and he feared to open his eyes for what he might see. He eventually gained the courage to part his eyelids, at first not seeing anything distinct. But as his vision cleared, he could just make out the shape of a head peering over him. After a short jolt of fear, he realised that it was human and he finally relaxed.

  The large shape hovering above him looked like the bulk of one of the party’s warriors. Relieved, he called, “Is that you, Devu?”

  At that, something else hard cracked him on the side of his head, the relief of unconsciousness suddenly overcoming him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN:

  Fleeing Traitor

  A woman’s life is full of assumptions about others. She will assign good motives to deeds she believes righteous, and evil desires to acts she considers wicked. But how little she truly understands. I have found that life’s greatest regrets have come from falsely attributing motives to deeds.

  From the Wisdom of Ashael

  ***

  He was dreaming. The sun was hot, the sweat even permeating his hair. He was jumping rather than walking and every time he landed, someone hit him over the head with a club. Jump. Thud! Jump. Thud! Jump. Thud!

  Michael wished whoever it was that was hitting him would stop. The pounding hurt, and there was no reason for it. Soon he stopped jumping, and just stood still, but the regular pounding continued. Ouch! Just stop it, will you! Ouch!

  Gradually his dream faded, and he remembered. He had been lying on his back – the shadow of a face had hung over him before his world had become nothingness.

/>   Thud! He had been hit on the head with something. He tried to raise his hand to feel the side of his face where he had been struck – Thud! – but found his hands were tied behind his back. Thud!

  The sweat on his face and in his head wasn’t coming from the sun, he realised; there was no sun. Thud! As he forced his eyes open, there was darkness. Thud! He tried to move his head. Thud! Ouch! Moving his head had caused a shot of pain through the top of his forehead, and he groaned out loud with the pain.

  “He wakes,” spoke a deep voice from behind him, muffled through whatever was covering his head.

  The thudding stopped, and he realised that no-one had been hitting him. Rather, he had been thrown across the back of an animal and was being carried. His head, covered by a sack, was hanging towards the ground on one side of the beast, and his feet the other. The steady thud had been the heavy steps of the creature, each step jolting his head and aggravating his pounding headache. Though the animal had now stopped, the pain continued to attack his skull, gravity keeping his head full of blood that thumped in time with his heart. But at least it was no longer being abetted by the heavy walking of the thing that bore him.

  He heard what sounded like movement against leather, and then some shuffling of feet before a pair of strong arms grabbed his feet and pulled him from the back of the creature. He was dropped on the ground, and he couldn’t stifle another groan as his head bounced against the earth’s surface.

  He lay there for a few moments before someone knelt beside him. The bag over his head loosened before it was removed, long grasses whipping against his face. Involuntarily, he closed his eyes against the light that struck them, then only gradually opened them so that his vision could adjust. In fact, it wasn’t especially bright, he soon realised. The sun was hidden by thick clouds, and it had only seemed bright because his eyes had been closed and in darkness for so many hours.