Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (25 page)

“Ashael?” He sounded surprised, “She is a myth. Perhaps she once existed, who knows. But our stories speak only of the birth of a child. The Weaving rulers were outraged, chasing the messenger from the city, and then hunting for the boy who would endanger their place. Babies were stripped from their mothers, Soul Weavers searching their tiny hearts for any evidence of corruption.”

The man paused for a moment, shaking his head in sorrow, “Great evils were done, and many mourned.”

They sat in silence for a minute before he once again continued his story, “And the day came that a baby was born. The Weavers could not find him, for his own gift was that he could not be touched by the Weaving. The Soul Weavers found no corruption in his soul, the Sooth Weavers found no deception in his words. And thus he was able to grow, hidden from the city’s rulers. Many followed him, and he gained in strength.

“I hope you will believe me,” the man said to Michael, “he sought first only for the rulers to amend their ways, that all might once again live in peace. But it was not possible. Even when eventually it was clear to the Weavers that they would no longer be able to rule as they had, they continued, refusing to submit to the people’s wishes. Thus it was that the decision was made that the Weavers would be forced to leave the cities, never to return. Jashmarael, for that was the name of the baby who had grown into the man who had opposed them, could have had them executed. Many of the people wished it. But he had no desire for blood, instead allowing them to leave in peace to travel where they would.”

 
“But I saw one of the cities that was destroyed,” Michael said.

“Yes,” replied the man, “In anger, the Weavers used their gifts not to build but to destroy, and those who lived away from Aperocalsa had to flee here for their safety. The ruins stand as witness to this day.”

“But they say the Guardian still seeks to destroy them – even today, a thousand summers later! And there has been fighting even in the last moon!” Michael didn’t want to believe what he had heard – not about Aneh.
 

But it made sense. The pieces all fit together perfectly. Something inside him was telling him that the man’s story was true. Aneh must have grown up on lies, and he was angry.

“No, Michael,” he said. “We do not seek their destruction. Rather they seek ours. I am certain that your friend is kind and generous, but are their warriors also kind?”

Michael thought of Devu, and the threats he had made against him. He could only shake his head.

“We sent a full Rist to the forest borders where you were found, as we do from time to time so that we may be prepared for dangers that may lie there. That is fifty men,” he said seriously, “and almost half were lost.”

“Killed by the Chet’tu,” stated Michael, “and by those demons.”

“No,” the man shook his head, “We lost a handful to the Nixu – the demons as many call them – but none to the Chet’tu. No, our men were killed by a single Bow Weaver.”

Michael had seen Erena, the Bow Weaver, and could believe that she would be more than capable of firing twenty or thirty arrows before a group of soldiers could get near enough to respond. As Michael struggled to come to terms with what he had been told, the man finished his tale, “We still hope for the day when we may live again in peace with the forest people, but the timing of that day lies with them.”

In his heart, Michael knew that the man was right, and he could only sit in silence. The seated man had also gone quiet, and as Michael looked at him now he could see that unlike the others he had seen in the Palace, he wasn’t wearing the deep red and gold of a uniform. Instead, he was wearing a woven green shirt, the colour of summer grass, with gold trim, and trousers a deeper shade of green. Michael wondered what his role was; why he was here; and was about to ask when the double set of doors opened, and a tall man walked in.

Looking at the seated man, the new arrival announced, “The audience chamber is now prepared, Guardian.”

Michael’s head spun for a moment, digesting what had just been said, and looked at the seated man.
 
The Guardian looked back at Michael and smiled.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
 

Mother

Though time has passed beyond counting and distance may be greater than mind can measure, still a mother’s love will be firm. Even the foulest deeds will not diminish a mother’s bond, for she has seen into the soul of her child like no other: as a newborn babe. She therefore knows the purity that persists even though great evils may be performed; that redemption is never beyond her child while breath remains. And thus a mother will forever seek the return of her child.

From the Wisdom of Ashael

***

When Michael had returned to his chambers following his audience with the Guardian, he spent time standing on the balcony outside his bedroom, staring over the city and the land beyond, and considering all that had been revealed to him.

The Guardian apologised to him for hiding his identity, but explained that he found it a useful tactic that gave people the opportunity to speak honestly of their worries and concerns. Too often, he said, when people knew they were standing in front of the city’s ruler, they would say only those things they thought he wanted to hear, not what was really troubling them. Addressing instead an elderly man who may be able to give them advice on how they could approach a subject with the Guardian, on the other hand, gave people license to open up.

Thinking of his outbursts while with the man when he had been anonymous, Michael knew that it was true. He wouldn’t have been as blunt had he known it was the Guardian he was speaking to. And the tactic had then allowed them to have a more open discussion, even once his real identity had been revealed. Ultimately, they had spoken for hours.

The Rist were charged, he was told, not to engage with the Elahish unless defending themselves, although they were to rescue people in trouble if they came across them. The soldiers had thought Michael was alone when they came across him running from the Nixu – the name of the creatures he had known only as demons – and so had ‘rescued’ him.

Given the weakened state of the Rist already, they didn’t feel they could risk trying to contact the Elahish – or ‘Forest People’ as the Guardian called them – to return him safely, and so they brought him with them for his own protection.

Although the story conflicted with what he had heard from Aneh about the soldiers from the city, as the Guardian had spoken the words, something within Michael told him it was true. While Aneh, too, must have believed what she had heard about the Guardian, Michael knew from his experience with Devu that the Elahish soldiers weren’t gentle, and he believed they would go on the offensive.

Even as he thought again of Aneh, remembering their short time together, he knew she had believed what she had told him. But the Guardian wasn’t anything like the man she had described. She had been wrong about him, and so she could have been wrong about other things too.

The Guardian had apologised for his soldiers knocking Michael unconscious, explaining that the Forest People had in the past been known – even when being rescued – to become hysterical, putting themselves and their rescuers in danger. Indeed they had kept him unconscious for several dawns with powerfully scented herbs, until they were far enough away from the forest to ensure his and their safety should he have decided to attempt to run. They were apparently going to allow him to awake sooner, but Chet’tu had attacked them after three dawns, and they wanted to be sure that they were far from danger from those evil canines before risking it.

While Michael had been unconscious, the Warmaster had sent two men ahead to give word that they were bringing someone back with them. Following the news’ arrival at the Palace, word had spread that someone from the forest had been saved from harm and was coming. It had been a long time since such a thing had happened, and so people were curious.

Although the explanation didn’t quite fill in all of the gaps – there was no good reason as to why the Rist was in the forest in the first place, for example – it was far better than any other he had considered. Without exception, all of the people he had met since arriving in Aperocalsa had been good to him. The soldiers had been less so, but then they were soldiers and had been ordered not to say anything to any strangers they came upon, lest they give away some important piece of knowledge.

Michael wished he could return to the Waylet and tell Aneh of how mistaken she was, but he knew that couldn’t happen. It was clear the Chet’tu were still seeking him, and with the Nixu demons also prowling the forests he would never arrive. But additionally, even if he did manage to safely navigate his way back to the Stay, if the Elahish soldiers really were the aggressors against the city’s Rist, the Lora wouldn’t allow that information to be made known. And given he could now legitimately be called a traitor, he wouldn’t survive long enough to speak to Aneh. No, his newfound knowledge would have to remain in the city, for now at least.

Unfortunately, the Guardian had no explanation as to why Michael was in Aylosia, or how he had come here. Nor did he have any explanation for the attacks by the Chet’tu or Nixu. But the Guardian had told him about the Palace library and suggested he could search old tomes there for information.

The mention of books and the invitation to immerse himself in them gave Michael a feeling of being at home. He had missed reading over the last moon, and he now felt a growing excitement at being able to return to his favourite past-time.

But not today. For the rest of today, he was content to ponder all of the things he had experienced since his arrival in Aylosia. The revelations from the Guardian had contradicted the things he had learned from Aneh, and there was still… something… pulling at him. It was as if head and heart were disagreeing with each other, and he soon was again wondering which version of Aylosia’s history was the correct. The Guardian had sounded so reasonable, and as he had spoken he had almost
known
in his heart that what he was hearing was true. Now, however, as he recalled their conversation he couldn’t determine which part of him remained uncomfortable with the Guardian’s explanations. Eventually he decided it was no use debating with himself. He didn’t understand which part of him was taking which side, and decided to see whether anything became clearer over the next few dawns. Especially as there was little he could actually
do
.
 

***

Awakening the next morning he was no clearer, confusion reigning as to whether he should believe the Guardian or the Elahish version of their history. Each time he decided that one had to be right, the other would silently whisper,
Yes, but…

He had finished breakfast and chosen some new clothes to wear when there was a knock on the door to his quarters. The sound surprised him as Leta had never knocked before simply walking in, and when he opened it he saw a young man of Michael’s age standing in front of him. He was slightly shorter than Michael’s six feet, but was stocky, his long red hair hanging just below the tops of his broad shoulders. The deep blue suit he wore had an unusual cut that Michael assumed could only possibly be for fashion reasons, and Michael didn’t think the goatee he sported suited him. But his smile was huge, as if greeting a long lost friend.

“Samo!” his visitor cried.

“Sorry? What?”
 

“It is what I am called – Samo. You are called Michael.”

“Um, yes,” said Michael, “Hi… Samo.”

Samo’s smile remained fixed and he quickly pushed past Michael into his main living room, his hands on his hips. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Michael was finding the discussion a bit surreal, responding, “Sorry. Ready for what?”

The short laugh was high-pitched, and Michael couldn’t reconcile the sound with someone who had grown a goatee, but Samo then looked serious and shook his head in mock irritation, “No-one has sent word. It is a scandal.” Smiling again he continued, “I am your guide to Aperocalsa. My father, Samor, is an advisor to the Guardian, and when they spoke of your arrival, my father realised that his son was of a similar age. Together, they thought it might ease your life with us if someone who had lived nearly the same number of summers showed you our city.”

Part of Michael was pleased that he would be able to explore the city with someone to help him find his way around, although it wasn’t what he had been planning. “Oh, thanks,” he said, “That sounds great. It’s just… I was hoping to go to the library.”

The look on Samo’s face was one of genuine surprise, “You come to the great city of Aperocalsa, and before even two dawns have passed, you wish to hide in a library?”

Shaking his head and grabbing Michael by the arm, he didn’t wait for Michael to reply. “No, that will not do. There will be time aplenty for books, but today I will show you our great city.” He pulled him now, and Michael found that Samo’s strength was greater than he was able to resist, only just being able to reach back to pull the door closed behind him as they headed off down the corridor.

As Michael hurried to keep up, a question came to him, “Samo, you said your father’s name is Samor?”

“He is called Samor, yes.”

“Are you named after him? You know, Samo, from Samor.”

His guide didn’t look back or slow as he answered, “Yes, of course. All children are named for their fathers. How would it be any other way?”

Michael didn’t say any more, registering one more difference between the people of Aperocalsa and the Elahish.

Once they were outside the building, Michael forced them to stop as he surveyed the buildings around him. Although on the night of his arrival the towers had been lit, it was only with the sunlight of day that he could really see the Palace. Even the evening before, when he had surveyed the city from his bedroom balcony, he had been facing away from the Palace; and in any case had been too lost in thought to really take anything in.