Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

After a short while, Michael tried to converse with Cesir, but got nowhere. His thoughts had quickly turned to his friends in the forest, so his enquiries were first about them. “Did you see the others I was with?”; “Were they okay?”; “There was a woman about my age. Did you see her?”; “How were the Shosa?” But all of his queries were met with little more than grunts. The only time he actually got an answer was when he had asked what their mounts were: “Karrabesh,” came the curt reply.

With information impossible to gain through conversation, he decided to study the men around him instead. Even without Amafar’s statement that he was a Warmaster, it was obvious that it was a group of soldiers. There were almost thirty of them, and they wore uniforms: a red shirt underneath tough leathers, the shirt carrying a gold stripe down the side from the shoulder to the elbow. The colour of their trousers was black, but also carried a stripe of gold from the waist to the knee. Amafar had three stripes of gold instead of one; Michael assumed it was a designation of his rank. Their uniforms were all filthy, evidence of a lengthy spell scouting… or hunting. Cesir certainly smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a moon or more. Each soldier carried a sword at their side, and most also had a dagger on their belt. Roughly half had a bow and quiver attached to the saddle of their mounts, although many of the quivers had few arrows left in them.
 

As he continued to study, he began to notice bandages here and there – sometimes visible on a hand, but at other times hidden beneath shirts – and Michael wondered whether they had lost comrades on their tour. Indeed, he wondered whether any had died at the hands of the Chet’tu or the demons.

With little conversation, his mind was occupied by repeated thoughts of the attack. Was it just the previous night or had he been unconscious for longer? Again and again he wondered and worried about Aneh, Lohka, Peran, and the others. His stomach churned at the thought that he didn’t know whether they were safe. One of their archers had died, and he realised with a sense of guilt he didn’t remember her name. But as far as he knew the other Chet’tu hadn’t followed them into the trees, apart from one, and it had been burned alive.

The demons had appeared out of nowhere, but he hoped that like the Chet’tu, they were after Michael. If so, then they may have left the others alone when Amafar’s group of warriors had taken him, their prey now vanished. He
had
to hope that his departure from them had at least served to keep the rest of them safe, that none of the others had been badly injured, and that Aneh was able to heal the wounds of both Elahish and Shosa.

He tried again asking Cesir about his friends; whether they were safely still in the forest, but once more got no response. Frustrated, he tried another question, “Are you from the city? From Aperocalsa?”

“Where else would we be from?” came the gruff reply. But at least Michael now knew who he now travelled with, and his heart sank with the news.

Whether he had gone with these soldiers willingly or not, he was now accompanying the enemies of the Elahish. At the attack of the Chet’tu, Berah had called him a traitor, and while Arevu had prevented him from carrying out any punishment, she hadn’t disagreed with him. And that was before he had left them. Lohka had said that he would be considered a traitor if either he sought harm to their people – and he had apparently brought the Chet’tu upon them twice now; or if he joined with the people of Aperocalsa – and now he journeyed with them.
 

The thought of not seeing Aneh again turned the vice within his stomach, but he realised his short friendship with her was now over. From their perspective, it must look like he had planned for the Chet’tu to attack them, hopefully kill their Hafashal, and to escape with their enemies in the battle’s confusion: the perfect assassin. He didn’t even know whether Aneh would now believe him; he hoped she would of course, given the bonds they shared, but even if she did in the end no-one would believe her apart from her mother, and so it would mean nothing for the judgement from the Lora. Even without the latest evidence, many didn’t trust him, and now with the proof of his alliance with their enemies, their cruel judgement would be swift.

They stopped for a quick lunch a short while later, and Michael was given only a tiny portion of stale bread and cheese. It was only when he asked for more that he learned he had been unconscious for seven dawns. “Your stomach will not accept a large meal after so long,” one of the soldiers had explained.

Back in their saddles they rode for the rest of the afternoon, occasionally moving into a gentle gallop, though usually alternating between a steady canter and a walk. With no hope of escape, the scenery barely changing and no-one to answer his questions, Michael settled into ruminating on his plight, and what the Elahish must now think of him.

Unused to riding, his legs began to ache by early afternoon, but his pleas for a rest were ignored. Increasingly, as the afternoon wore on he was forced to stop his worrying and focus his attention on trying to ignore the pain that was coursing through his muscles, the effort causing him to sweat. Even so, he knew he had only managed to stay on the Karrabesh because Cesir had kept one arm around him, and when they finally stopped for the night, he fell onto the ground and, ignoring the jeers and taunts from the warriors, crawled over to the makeshift camp where he ate what was given to him.

Michael had become used to the rounded shapes of the Elahish tents, the strange absence of anything other than a central pole to keep them up, and the colours and shapes that adorned them. But the ones the Rist erected now were more like those from his own world: pointed at the top, the various corners and square sides were held in place by stakes attached to the ends of rope. As he lay on a bedroll inside one of the dirty white shelters that night, he realised he missed the animal-shaped windows that had adorned the walls of Aneh’s tent. And as the temperature dropped through the night, the wind whistling through the camp, he missed also the heat stones, pulling the blankets tight around him to retain what warmth he could.

Much to the amusement of the soldiers, Michael’s body hurt even more the next morning. The muscles in his legs – some he hadn’t realised existed – were screaming at him with each movement he made. But they set off early regardless, Michael needing extra help to climb back onto the Karrabesh.

At first, he found he needed to concentrate on ignoring the pain in his muscles again, but after a while he found that there were periods when it was no more than a dull ache that he could put to the back of his mind. At those points, he tried again to ask questions of Cesir about where they were, where they were going, why they had taken him, and how long they would be riding. But he had no more success with answers than he had the previous dawn, and eventually gave up, deciding instead to try and listen to the talk of the other men to see what he could learn from them.

The topics of conversation were varied. The men had been away from their homes for a long time. Consequently, many spoke of looking forward to being with their families again. Others spoke in graphic detail of the time they would spend with women when they got back to the city – whether women they already knew or new conquests didn’t seem to matter. At other times, they would speak about friends and comrades who had fallen – those who had left the city with them on their journey, but who wouldn’t be walking back through the gates with them.

Over the course of the day, Michael heard a long list of the names of such men, and a part of him felt sorrow on their behalf. But his sympathy was sometimes short-lived as their words would quickly turn to anger and sworn oaths of vengeance. It wasn’t always clear to Michael who the targets of such oaths were, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder whether it was to creatures like the Chet’tu, and the blood-eyed demons, or whether some of their friends had been lost in fights with the Elahish.
 

Michael remembered Aneh and Lohka speaking of the danger they faced from the soldiers from the city, and recalled the Elahish scouts reporting a skirmish with city warriors who had attacked them. Perhaps that very fight had been with this group. While he could therefore understand the soldiers now beside him feeling the loss of their friends and companions, he didn’t think it right that the Elahish should be hated for defending themselves.

Eventually, when he overheard the discussion of two soldiers riding next to him, he attempted again a question, “What were those black creatures with the red eyes?”

He didn’t expect an answer – all of his previous questions having been ignored – and so was surprised when the dark-haired soldier nearest him replied, “The demons? They are vicious creatures and you should be grateful you were spared their ministrations. If they had caught you…” he trailed off, allowing Michael’s imagination to invent pictures of himself lying under their pointed talons, and razor-sharp teeth.

It caused him to shudder as the soldier continued, “They live in the mountains, and the Warmaster will want to report their appearance in the forest to the Guardian.”

Remembering how many pairs of eyes he had seen, and his friends who he had left behind and must have been in danger of them, Michael felt another wave of worry and asked, “Did you kill them?”

“Not all,” came the reply, “but enough so that they did not follow us.”

At Michael’s querying look, the man continued, “They were after you, boy. I hope you were worth saving.”

The accusation reminded Michael of something he had been pondering. He was already sure that the Chet’tu had come for him, but he hadn’t been sure about the small black creatures. They had appeared directly in front of him but that could have been coincidence. The soldier’s statement confirmed otherwise, however, and for the first time he felt grateful to be far from the forest that had suddenly grown so dangerous to him – and more importantly had grown dangerous for those who were with him: for Aneh. How he hoped she was safe!

The soldier’s speech interrupted his thoughts about his forest companion, however. “We lost a lot of friends for you.”

Again Michael remembered the Elahish archer, killed by the Chet’tu that had come for him. People were dying for him, and it made him feel ill. All he could do was mumble, “Sorry,” to which the soldier grunted and rode off to join some of his other comrades, leaving Michael alone once again with the silent Cesir sitting behind him.

Above all, the question that repeated itself in Michael’s mind was,
Why?
Why were the Chet’tu chasing him? Why had the demons also come for him? Why had the soldiers rescued him? Why were they taking him now to the city? He was a nobody, worse than useless in this place. Why would anyone or anything consider him worth the effort that was apparently being expended on him? So many people – innocent people – had risked themselves, and even died, for him. Why?

The next few dawns were of a similar pattern. Michael tried to listen for talk that would inform him, he would occasionally ask a question, and even more occasionally get a reply. When some soldier would speak to him, there would be no warmth in the speech, and invariably there was an underlying sense of accusation for their colleagues’ death that lingered. And through it all, he ruminated.

But as the dawns passed, gradually the pains in his body eased as his muscles got used to riding the Karrabesh, and he regained his strength as his body absorbed the food that was offered. The weather was overcast for most of the time, with rain occasionally sprinkling them, but Michael was given a coat that kept his clothes dry.

It was on the afternoon, about six dawns after Michael had regained consciousness, that the wind started to pick up in strength and the clouds darkened, causing Amafar to give order for the party to quicken its pace. The peaks of mountains had appeared on the edge of the distant horizon early that morning, and they were apparently now less than two dawns journey from Aperocalsa. Michael guessed the Warmaster didn’t want them to be in the coming storm for any longer than necessary.

The rain started in earnest just as evening was falling, and being on the open plains there was little protection against the strong winds that turned the driving rain almost horizontal. Even the thick leather coats they all wore seemed to be of little use as the rain whipped violently around them, finding the tiniest gaps in clothing with ease, quickly soaking Michael to the skin. Though Cesir’s hold remained firm, he found his grip on the hair of the Karrabesh tightening to avoid being blown from the beast.

He thought they might try and make camp, where at least they might be able to hide from the rain inside the tents, but they continued pushing their mounts hard into the dark hours. The reason became clear when they slowed their pace, and Michael suddenly realised that they were walking between stone walls.
 

As he tried to peer through the water that was being thrown into his eyes, he could see that they were in an abandoned town. Many of the old buildings had only walls still standing, but others had roofs partially intact, and it was only a few minutes until Cesir climbed off his mount and directed Michael to follow him. There appeared to be several buildings here that still had sufficient structure to give them protection for the night, and when Michael followed Cesir into one he could see two soldiers already starting a fire on the stone floor of the large room.

By the time the Karrabesh had been safely led to shelter for the night, there were perhaps half of the soldiers in this building. The fire was large enough for all to gather around it to dry their clothes, and Michael was grateful when he felt dry enough for slumber, retiring to sleep against a far wall. For a while, he listened to the whistle of the wind as it raced around the old stone walls, but his tiredness soon overcame him, slipping into a restless slumber that was filled with dreams of evil creatures and death.

When he awoke in the morning, the storm had passed, and already the Karrabesh were being saddled. This close to home, the soldiers were keen to try and get to Aperocalsa before nightfall.