Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (27 page)

He briefly wondered again why the Guardian had taken him in, and why he kept him here at the Palace. He had spoken to the Guardian once more since their first meeting and had asked him, but the Guardian had only smiled and said, “I have my own reasons. Perhaps one day you will know.”

He was pleased that Samo hadn’t come again for him today, wanting to stay in solitude, and after eating some of the food that had been left for him, he left to find the library. He reluctantly had to ask directions, and eventually found it in a corner of the Palace grounds. Though there were several topics he wanted to explore within the books, he spent the first part of the afternoon trying to figure out how the tomes were organised. By late afternoon, he had settled into a comfortable chair hidden behind a tall row of shelves and was reading. He found no answers to his numerous questions, but nonetheless felt an emotional relief at being able to immerse himself again in bound pages.

Samo returned the following morning, but from then onwards seemed happier to ration their city tours, allowing Michael time to return to the library most dawns. Michael was more at ease with their new routine, a comfortable balance now found between learning about the new city and of Aylosia through walking the streets, and via reading.

Of all the things he had seen, the thing that struck him the most from Samo’s very first tour was the clothing. Whereas the Elahish had worn simple clothing of creams and browns and almost all women had worn trousers that were much more practical for their lifestyle, here within the city bright colourful clothes were the order of the day, and the women loved their dresses and skirts of all styles and shapes.
 
Fashion was certainly of some importance here and though Michael originally hadn’t thought that the apparel and makeup on display was ostentatious, Samo’s explanation of Hisa’s work – bringing him fame, fortune and women – had caused him to re-evaluate, and he was no longer sure of what he thought of the people’s appearance.
 

Eventually, the snowfalls that had been gradually creeping down the mountains cradling Aperocalsa reached the upper city; then the lower city; winter finally wrapping the land in its white blanket. It meant that Samo took Michael to places and events that were indoors, including to the physical training building that Samo himself regularly attended. Michael had wondered how Samo had built such a solid frame, as he didn’t seem to have an occupation, and it was now that he understood. Much like a gym in his own world of England, the room was filled with contraptions and a variety of heavy objects that were being lifted, moved, and manipulated to strengthen the muscles and body shape of an individual.

Michael’s walking had always kept him reasonably fit, but he had never been interested in bodybuilding, and his lack of enthusiasm prompted encouragement from Samo. “You have related your encounters with Chet’tu and with demons,” he said.

“Nixu,” said Michael.

“Hmm?”

“The Guardian says they are called Nixu, not demons,” he explained.

“Oh yes,” replied Samo “You have had encounters with Chet’tu and Nixu demons, and who knows what other dangers may lie in wait. It would be wise to build your strength and learn to battle.”

Michael was eventually talked into giving it a go, and though Samo had started him with lifting the smallest stones using the simplest manoeuvres, he quickly built up a sweat. But despite the encouragement from Samo, he couldn’t create any enthusiasm to continue and told Samo the next morning. His friend was frustrated, but eventually gave up, deciding to try a different approach.
 

“Very well,” he said. “Strength is helpful in a battle, but other things are more important. I will at least teach you to wield a blade.”

It took almost two dawns for Michael to agree, compromising on it being for no more than two ‘marks’ each morning. To measure daylight hours, the people used a type of sundial with numerous marks etched in it. Michael reckoned that each mark was roughly equivalent to half an hour.

So, Samo began instructing Michael in how to use a sword. He kept at this training for a full moon, before it was finally Samo who admitted defeat. “You have no skill with a weapon,” he announced after another session where Michael had failed to block every single simple attack. “If you are attacked by one who chooses to stand perfectly still, I think you will be fine, because you have a good swing. But you seem unable to adjust for even the slightest movement of your enemy.”

“I did tell you that fighting really wasn’t my thing,” Michael replied.

“Well, let us hope that you remain in the city now, and that no-one seeks you harm. Or if they do, they stand unmoving while you defend yourself.”

At that, Michael’s instruction in handling weapons came to an end, something for which he was initially grateful. It was perhaps half a moon later when he wondered if he had given up too easily.

***

The sun was setting in the east, casting long shadows from buildings, and allowing unusually shaped sculptures to create fascinating shapes on the ground behind them, permitting their mysterious inner souls to be revealed to passers-by.

Michael had been stopping to examine the shadowy designs on the ground, frustrating Samo as he did so.
 

“They are shadows,” complained his guide. “What can be so interesting in them so as to delay filling my belly?”

“Oh, stop whinging,” said Michael playfully. “We might not ever be here at precisely this time again.” The sculpture currently captivating him was of three children playing Patchek, the game Michael had seen being played on the commons when he first arrived. One of the children held the bat – shorter and fatter than a cricket bat – above his head. Another was falling over as the large ball was rushing beyond them, while the third was laughing while standing next to some of the posts that dotted the game’s outfield.

“Look at that,” he directed. “It almost looks like a monster towering over its prey. It’s like the game itself is false, pretending to be fun when really there’s a hidden evil inside it that’s going to get you. I wonder if the artist intended that?”

“You think too much,” cried Samo. “They are no more than shadows. They mean nothing. It is just a statue of children playing.”

Eventually Samo managed to pull Michael away, deciding to go down a narrow alleyway as a short cut to his evening meal.

“You think too much with your stomach,” said Michael as they walked.

“What else is there in life but women and food?” he replied cheerily.

“Your parents might have something to say about that. I’m not sure it’s the healthiest approach to life.”

“My father did likewise, and he is now in a position of great importance. I will do the same as he. And as for healthy,” Samo rationalised, “my father is well enough. It will do me no harm.”

“No, but we might.” The words came from behind them, and both Samo and Michael spun around to face the owner of the voice. There were three men blocking their retreat, all holding short swords.

In the time that he had spent in the city, Michael hadn’t been aware of any crime. He knew there had to be some, of course. Aperocalsa was a large city, and with its population there had to be some individuals who found violence a preferable way of life or the laws to be… inconvenient. But the overall level of order within Aperocalsa had been impressive. The safety he had felt within the city’s walls had contrasted with his feelings whenever he imagined trying to return to the Elahish, where danger seemed to lurk at every turn.

As the comfortable security of the city was stripped away now, however, he looked behind him and saw another three men had entered the alley at the end to which they had been headed. They were cut off from escape.

Samo appeared to be less worried, however: or at least his demeanour showed no concern as he addressed their would-be attackers. “It would be wise for you to allow us to continue our walk. Perhaps you do not know my father. He is…”

“We know who your father is, vermin. Oh yes,” continued the man who appeared to be the group’s leader. “You are as the Tils, that preys on the weak. But you feed on their souls rather than their flesh.”
 
The hatred that filled the man’s eyes matched his words, and Michael suddenly realised this was no random mugging.

Samo appeared unperturbed by the interruption or the abuse as he responded, “Then perhaps you are not aware that my companion is under the protection of the Guardian. It would not go well for you if you were to seek him harm.”

“And why is that?” came the reply. “The Guardian is ruthless and brutal, and yet here is one who he values. There must be something very important about him. What is it?”

“Your thoughts are warped by whatever evils you have done,” said Samo. “You know well that the Guardian is kind.” He ignored the sarcastic laugh that erupted as he spoke and continued, “He was simply lost and in danger. The Guardian has taken him in. Seek him harm at your peril.”

“You are a poor liar,” the bandit’s leader said, “But perhaps we can negotiate. You give your companion to us, and we will harm no-one. Then everyone will be content.”

The demand made Michael’s heart jump. These men were after
him
?

This is ridiculous
.
Is there nowhere in Aylosia where I’m safe?

“While I would enjoy nothing more than to continue our discussion,” said Samo, spying the group behind them moving closer, “I am afraid that we must leave you. Perhaps another time.” At that, Samo gave a deep bow. As he extended his arm in mock courtesy, Michael saw him flick his wrist, releasing a small vial that sailed towards their assailants.

Their attackers also saw it and hurriedly retreated a dozen places. As the vial struck the ground, a wall of flame erupted in the alleyway, and Samo grabbed Michael’s wrist, whirling him around.

“Quickly!” he cried. “The flames will last only a few moments. Stay behind me.”

The three men now facing them were charging, but the alley was too narrow and Michael realised that at least one of them would have to hold back. Still, if the fiery barrier that now rose behind them only lasted a minute or less they would have to get through these men quickly. Michael suddenly wished he had tried harder with his sword practice.

Samo was already several steps ahead of him, as he raced towards their attackers. He held a sword in his favoured right hand, but just as he was about to strike his left wrist again flicked. This time is was a knife that flew from it, embedding itself within the neck of one of the rushing men. His fall impeded the enemy behind him, leaving just one for Samo to initially face.

Michael had seen Samo in sword practice, of course, and knew he was skilled. It therefore came as no surprise to him when he dispatched their attacker quickly. After a feint at the man’s middle, he quickly adjusted and sliced him across his unprotected leg. The momentary lapse in concentration that the shot of pain caused gave Samo the opening he needed, and he mercilessly plunged his sword into his chest.

The sole remaining attacker quickly sized up the situation – his two colleagues both now lying dead within only a heartbeat – and turned and fled.

Already the fire behind them was dying, and the three assailants had leapt through it. But they were now too far behind them. “Run!” called Samo. Michael needed no additional motivation, and raced behind his friend until they had exited the alley into a larger street. They stopped once they arrived and turned to look back down the alley. Their assailants had already vanished, along with their dead.

Michael didn’t notice the few people in the street stop to stare and gasp at them, Samo still holding his bloody sword. He barely even heard Samo speak, “We must inform the Guardian.”

All he wanted to do was curl up in his room with a book.

***

After the attack in the alley, guards had been assigned to follow Michael at a close distance whenever he was outside the Palace grounds. The incident also caused Michael to ask for more sword practice, but it was no more successful than his first attempt and he soon gave up again.

His questions over his importance to the Guardian also resurfaced after the incident. Their assailants had come for
him
. Why? The Guardian was protecting him. Why?

He tried talking to Samo about it, but he had no answers, and suggested he speak to the Guardian. Michael continued to meet with the Guardian every few dawns, and so raised his questions with him, but the older man simply smiled and said, “You will one day understand, Michael. But for now, there is little I can say.”

The failure to obtain any answers increased his sense of frustration at his circumstances, but that slowly ebbed away, and dawns passed without any new hints at danger.

As the dark and chill of winter strengthened its grip, Samo had also started to appear at night, insisting that Michael come to a party of one description or another with him. Although the darkness gave any assailants more cover in which to hide, Samo assured him that the guards assigned to protect him would keep him safe, even from the polite distance they maintained.

Eventually, Michael had been convinced to go with him to one: “The girls will fall over themselves for your attention.” Samo had said. A good looking man who had added the mystery of coming from the dangerous Forest People, and whom criminals had attacked was an attraction that many women found irresistible.

But after some shallow conversation they would inevitably invite him to more… private areas, and he had no interest in following a virtual stranger to dark corners or hidden rooms. If that wasn’t enough, with each invitation from a beautiful woman came an image of Aneh: her smooth skin which she was comfortable displaying to the world without the makeup or other adornings that disguised her true self.

Samo was quite different, however, and disappeared frequently with their feminine admirers, only returning when he thought there was another woman he could ‘rescue’ Michael from. Overall, he had found it unbearable –
noisy preening
, he silently complained to himself – and so had refused to attend any others.