Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1)

by Jeffrey Collyer

  There was another pause, another tear. “And the next time when there was an even greater evil asked of me, it was not solely a revelation to Avhe of my indiscretion, but even more, How would she feel to know the evils you have willingly done?

  “And so it continues, until there were no longer any boundaries to my deeds. There was no limit to the evil I would do. For others of his servants, he may find other ways to… convince… them to do those things that even the most vile creature would shudder to perform. But for many he encourages, then abuses, their love. That is the easiest I think; for we all wish to love, and be loved. Then we fear to lose what has grown precious to us.”

  Michael had sat transfixed at the tale, horrified again of how Jashmarael would manipulate any and all to serve his ends. The ache in his gut had returned as he wondered again how he would have been used had he succumbed to Pava.

  “But you still managed to get free,” he said to the old man.

  “Yes,” Joh replied, “Here I am. Free.”

  Michael heard a sarcastic edge to the last word, and wondered what it meant.

  Now Joh stood and faced the window, continuing his story without having to look at Michael – without having to confront a reproachful stare.

  “Even with such motivation to obey him, there once came a time when even I could not follow his command. Even now I do not understand why I felt as I did. He had come to my own rooms when Avhe was not there. Such a thing was unheard of, and so I knew that what we would discuss would be of great import. My evil this time was to be upon,” Joh hesitated, “…a baby. There was some unknown future threat this child would bring to Aylosia, and so it must die.

  “Before you think me too noble,” he quickly added, “the deed was not so unknown to me. I am not proud to confess that by my hand children had died before in the Guardian’s service. But…” the old man paused, and Michael imagined his eyes were closed as he tried to recall – or to forget, “…to this moment I do not understand why this was different. But I could not do it. I struggled with myself; argued against his threats; his promises. Eventually I simply said no. You may reveal all that I have done to Avhe, but I cannot do this, I proclaimed. Find another.

  “Then I ran. The sun was soon to set, and I knew where my Avhe would be. I found her, returning from a market, and led her to a quiet park where I had decided I would tell her all. I could not bear for one of the Guardian’s servants to tell her of my deeds. No, I would finally accept responsibility for my evils and would tell her myself. She would leave me, I knew, and both of our hearts would break. But that was now inevitable anyway. It was right that she should hear the truth from me.

  “I could not look at her as I spoke of my past, of the secrets that I had kept. I was shamed but continued to tell all, without stopping for breath it seemed. I hope…” he stopped and turned from the window to look at Michael, his cheeks stained with heavy tears, “… I hope that you will never have to face the one you love with such a tale, to see her body shake for the pain that you have caused.”

  Joh now turned back to face the window again, “I could not console her, of course. Through her violent tears, I could hear just one word, Why? I did my best to explain, but such justifications seem so paltry when faced with the stark reality of your monstrous deeds. In the end, the things I had done I could not defend, and they could not be undone. And finally I told of the baby; of the one I could not kill.”

  His voice began shaking, the sobs now audible, “That is when her body became still, and for the briefest of moments, I thought that perhaps she was calming herself. But when I looked to her again, I saw a different pain in her face. Added to the pain of love’s betrayal was the pain of physical wound. I looked down and saw the feathers protruding from her chest, an arrow having pierced her heart.

  “How I wish I could have those few heartbeats back, to relive them. I could see the life slipping quickly from her eyes. I knew our time together was now ending in the cruellest of ways. I wish I had said I love you, my Avhe. How I wish those had been the last words of mine that had entered her ears. I wish I had looked tenderly in her eyes; for though I had betrayed her, I wish that with the last rays of light, she had seen that my love remained, even if it had been so foolish.

  “Instead, the last she saw of my face was a look of horror; the last of my voice a scream. And through it all, she breathed the final words of her mortal frame, I am proud of you, my love.”

  As Joh’s shoulders shook, and the sound of his weeping encompassed the small home, Michael sat in stunned silence. The difficulties of his own life now seemed small in comparison, though the worry he felt for his mother increased. If Jashmarael was willing to have Joh’s wife killed simply because he had refused to carry out an evil deed, then he knew that none were safe: especially not someone close to him; not if Jashmarael considered him important.

  Michael remained silent, his own tears also falling, unwilling to break the sacred grief that the old man felt. He wanted to comfort his mother’s friend, but had no idea how he could, and so remained in his seat, quietly witnessing the renewed grief and regret on display.

  It was several minutes before Joh regained his composure. When he had done so, he returned to the chair, looking again at Michael. His eyes were now red from tears as he concluded his story, “I thought they would also take my life, and every dawn I wish they had. But they left me there with my beloved, her lifeless body in my arms throughout the night. Our son, for we had one child and he was now grown, ensured her burial. I was in a stupor and could do nothing. And then I came here, where I have lived since. I wondered whether they would permit it, but my example will have served as a valuable warning to any others who considered disobeying the Guardian.”

  Joh had apparently now finished his story, and seemed content to sit in silence for a while longer, before Michael finally spoke. “I’m so sorry.”

  The old man managed a small smile through the tears that were now falling more slowly. “And why would you be sorry for my folly?”

  “I asked why were you here; how you got free from Jashmarael. I’m sorry that my questions have made you tell me.”

  Some people may have heard of the evils that Joh had committed – he had admitted to killing children – and felt no pity. But Michael could hear in his voice how trapped he had felt within the grip of Jashmarael: a being that could twist and warp souls. Somehow Joh had escaped such a grasp, and had paid a terrible price for doing so. And Michael couldn’t help but realise how close he had been to becoming equally chained to the Guardian’s plans. What would he have ended up doing if not for the warning of a dream in another world?

  But the old man was having none of Michael’s apology, “Do not be silly. To my last breath the memory of what I have done, including my own part in the death of my Avhe, will haunt me. But in the telling of it, I hope you will learn some wisdom, Michael.”

  Michael raised his eyebrows in question of Joh’s statement. He thought he was just listening to how the old man had managed to get away from Jashmarael’s grip, but apparently there were some lessons Joh wanted him to learn too.

  But Joh didn’t elaborate, and eventually Michael spoke, “I don’t think it was your fault. You said yourself that no-one can escape Jashmarael… or a Ravager. And then they used that as blackmail. There wouldn’t be one man in a thousand who would have done any differently.”

  But the old man smiled again, a knowing smile. “Tell me, Michael how you feel about your own brush with a Ravager. No guilt?”

  Michael shifted uncomfortably. Every time he thought of Pava standing in front of him, with her arm extended he felt a guilt wash over him, the images of Aneh causing his gut to ache.

  A gentle laugh came from Joh as he watched Michael squirm, “You are perhaps the only man I have ever known to resist one, and still you regret your feelings. I was not able to resist, until evils piled upon evils. I thought that having committed one wrong, I could avoid the consequences by committing another. If
after the first I had only confessed to my beloved…” his voice trailed off.

  But Michael’s sympathy for the man wasn’t so easily doused, “Maybe they would have killed her then anyway? You did what you thought was the best thing to do at the time. You don’t know that it wouldn’t have ended up exactly the same if you had done things differently,” he suggested.

  “No,” Joh replied, more sternly now, “I did what was easiest at the time. I was a coward. And not only is the only woman I ever loved dead because of it, but my hands are covered in the blood of countless innocents. Ultimately, I am a weak man. Learn from my mistakes Michael, or you may just repeat them.”

  Michael tried to honour the old man’s story by hearing the lessons he was trying to teach, and so they sat in silence again. After another couple of minutes, Michael then thought of something else Joh had said, “What happened to your son? Does he live here in the Ashput too?”

  The old man looked away again at the question, his head looking towards the window, “No” he answered, “He continues to live in the upper city, with a daughter now of his own: sweet Tahla. They are safe.”

  Something in the way Joh had said it made Michael think that there was an unspoken phrase at the end of his final sentence, as if he had wanted to say, They are safe… for now. But he didn’t pursue it any further, and they sat in silence, each deep in their own thoughts.

  ***

  The sun had just dropped below the walls surrounding the Ashput when Eramica returned carrying a large bag in each hand. As Joh checked on the meal he was preparing, Michael and Eramica went through the bags, moving what they could into two sacks; one that they had brought with them, and another that his mother had obtained while out. There was a range of long-lasting foods, some rope, a large sheet of fabric that could serve as a type of makeshift tent, and a lantern.

  By the time they had finished, Joh announced that dinner was prepared and they sat to eat, Michael insisting on sitting on the floor so that his mother and Joh could have the chairs.

  While they were eating, Michael remembered the domed building and asked about it, trying to sound casual. He hadn’t mentioned the rounded structure from the crystal, as it hadn’t seemed important, so not even Eramica would understand his interest.

  “I’m not surprised your guides did not show it to you,” answered Joh. “It is the Talleth.”

  It took a moment for Michael to register the word, but then remembered Aneh had spoken to him about such buildings. “I thought they were all destroyed after the Weavers left,” he said.

  Joh nodded as he replied, “Yes, they were. In all of the towns in Aylosia, the Talleth were broken to pieces. But the one here in Aperocalsa,” he paused, his eyes looking at Michael now as if he were peering over the top of some glasses: his face remaining angled towards his dinner bowl, “this one is the Talleth. The Guardian will have made every effort to destroy it of course, but the Weaving in its stone will be far too strong to be undone. No, the Talleth here I suspect will still be standing in a thousand, thousand summers.”

  Michael wished he had known about the Talleth before now, as he would have made an attempt to see it close up. He guessed Samo wouldn’t have been willing to take him there, but he was familiar enough with the city to have made an attempt to investigate on his own. He kicked himself for not remembering it from the crystal. It had seemed an important building when he had glimpsed it in the medallion, and having seen just its roof over the walls, he knew there was something pulling him to it. He certainly had been blessed with time to wander, so there really weren’t any excuses. Just another regret, he thought; perhaps a small one this time, but still…

  Their conversation drifted after that; Eramica and Joh largely catching up like long-lost friends. Occasionally, Michael noticed a hint of sadness or regret in Joh’s demeanour, which he put down to the sad tale he had been forced to remember earlier.

  As it grew late, there was a quick exchange about when Eramica and Michael should leave, Joh insisting they get a night’s rest before departing.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to leave at night?” Michael enquired. “People will be less likely to see us won’t they?”

  “No, Rami,” Eramica replied. “We are not going through the streets this time.”

  Joh now interjected, tapping his finger against the side of his nose, “No-one will see you leave, whether the sun’s light shines down on us or not.”

  Michael’s face must have shown the confusion he was feeling, as Joh then smiled and motioned him to follow as he stood. Michael rose and together they walked into the third and final room of Joh’s small building. Michael knew this must be where Joh slept, and saw confirming piles of rugs scattered, many of which were well worn from many summers of use.

  The old man bent and carefully lifted one rug in the far corner, and Michael was surprised to see a square door in the floor. As Joh carefully lifted it, Michael peered down, his guest shining a lantern to provide some light. The lamp didn’t throw light very far, but it was enough to see a wooden ladder descend into the darkness.

  “It will take you to the streams,” Joh explained.

  “The streams?”

  “You have seen the waterfalls along the southern edge of the city?” the old man asked, continuing when Michael nodded, “The water must come from somewhere don’t you think?”

  Michael was a little embarrassed at the question, it being such an obvious one for which he had never sought an answer. At his silence, Joh laughed, “The water comes from the mountains in many streams and rivers. There is far too much water to build a city here. But the location was perfect for defence: mountains on two sides and a steep cliff on a third. So, they created pathways underground for the water to traverse. The Stone Weavers worked to ensure that the ground on which Aperocalsa’s residents walk would remain firm despite the great weight that would be placed upon it.”

  “So the ladder leads down to the underground streams now?” Michael asked.

  His host nodded, “There are a handful of entrances through the city. They must be accessible in the event that a stream becomes blocked. The entrance here in the Ashput had been long hidden, but having been employed in the position I was with the Guardian, I knew of it and ensured I obtained the land above it.”

  Joh smiled now, admiring his foresight. “You never know when a secret escape may be of value.”

  “What do we do once we get down there?” Michael queried.

  “There are tunnels that do not have water coursing through them. Some lead to the mountains. Perhaps you could arise in another part of the city, closer to the gates allowing you to escape, but I think the mountains would be safer.”

  Joh closed the door over the tunnel entrance again as he continued, speaking now to both Michael and Eramica, who had joined them in the small room, “You must still take care. You will not be alone down there.”

  Worry again pressed in Michael’s chest, though Eramica spoke, “I have been there before, remember my friend? I know of the folk who inhabit the tunnels. They will not cause us harm.”

  The old man looked like he was going to reply, but stifled his first reaction. It was only after a pause that he spoke again, a melancholy overcoming him; his words coming almost as a whisper, “You must not trust anyone.”

  Michael could feel the guilt of the old man’s past again surface, and was pleased when his mother placed her hand on his shoulder, a small attempt to provide comfort. “It is settled then,” she said. “We will remain with you tonight. I would not leave you looking so sad.”

  Joh’s mood brightened a little after they had returned to the fire and again began reminiscing together. It seemed Eramica had enjoyed quite a number of adventures as she had searched for her son, meeting Joh quite early in her quest. Despite her guilt at having lost her precious baby, and Joh’s own self-loathing for the death of his wife, they seemed to have enjoyed each other’s company, becoming close friends. Indeed for much of the rest of the night they were
laughing – at times almost uncontrollably – at comic mishaps that had occurred over eighteen summers.

  By the time they retired for their last night’s sleep in Aperocalsa, Michael’s spirits had been lifted at seeing a comfortable joy on his mother’s face, her voice seeming to sing with a simple happiness. Though there was still a lot on his mind, he was able to drift into sleep quickly and peacefully. Little did he know that it would be many moons before he had another similar slumber.

  ***

  The shaking was persistent, and he kept shrugging his shoulder, trying to make the annoyance depart. But it wouldn’t go away, a rumble of indistinct words accompanying it. He had been in such a deep sleep that there were no dreams he was clinging on to, and his entire body wanted solely to return to his unaware state.

  “Go away,” he mumbled.

  “Rami,” his name was now clear. “Rami, you must wake.” It was a woman’s voice. “Please, Rami, please hear me. Wake up.” It was his mother’s. There was an urgency in her voice.

  What’s mum doing nearby while I’m sleeping? he thought. She doesn’t live in the Palace.

  Awareness slowly grew around him as her pleas continued unabated.

  No wait, I was going to move in to her house. No… I’d run away… from Pava.

  And with that memory everything else came flooding back to him, his eyes suddenly alert, and he sat up quickly. The worry in his mother’s voice urged a panic in his own. “What is it?”

  “We must go,” she said quickly, her voice authoritative.

  “What? Now? Why? What’s happened?” Even as he asked, he grabbed his jacket and was moving, following Eramica’s command.

  “It is Joh,” she said, the pain of treachery in her voice. “He has betrayed us.”

  As they left their small room, her words, along with the sight of the old man slouched in a chair, made him stop, “What? I don’t understand.”