Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (44 page)

“But I don’t know where they are,” he continued, hoping that the woman would give him aid. “How can I find them?”

You will know
, came the reply.

He felt himself starting to grow weary; his un-embodied eyelids begin to feel heavy. A part of him was sorry to be leaving this place of peace. Though dark deeds had been revealed to him here, an underlying feeling of joy had remained throughout, and he didn’t want that to end. But a part of him knew that when he closed his eyes, he would depart from the mist, returning to his broken body. Somehow he would then need to find his way to the Elahish.
You will know
, she had said, and he trusted in that. In this place, such an elusive answer was enough.

As he lay down again, preparing to re-enter the world to which he had chosen to return, he was surprised to hear the woman speak again.

Her voice was softer now,
And what of the one you love?

For a final time, a smile appeared on his face. Outside of this place, he would have been surprised; denied that there was any such person. But the comforting mists stripped away self-imposed deception; laying the truth bare, and Aneh’s face appeared in his mind.

“Yes,” he said, for the first time understanding his feelings for the first woman he had met in Aylosia, “I loved her.”

Loved?
she asked.

“She died,” he explained. He still knew that he was responsible for her death, but while the comforting mists touched him, his feelings of guilt were tempered with the knowledge that he hadn’t known what else to do. Thus his acknowledgement of his feelings for her brought him peace, though he wished now that he could have told her.

Perhaps you may still do so,
came the voice, apparently reading his thoughts.
Death is not the end of love, but the beginning. And all is not what it seems
.

Michael wanted to ask what she meant, but even as he puzzled over what words to use his eyes closed, and he felt himself drifting away. He was already now beyond the reach of her voice when she finally whispered,
I am proud of you
. She had almost uttered more, but dared not, fearing that he might somehow hear, and knowing that there were still things that he needed to learn rather than be taught.

***

Pairs of small charcoal-black hands held him; carefully stripped off the ragged clothes that covered his body. With the moon covered by the storm clouds, the path to a small hole that gave entrance to the cave was hidden; the soft glimmer of the Kerid stones was all that gave light to the surroundings.

But the owners of the hands needed no light to see. Their eyes were accustomed to the darkness of the deep places of the earth. For them, the blue and green light shining from the rocks was bright: almost too bright. And they hurried at first to begin their task.

When the young man was naked, they lifted him. He rose easily, the small size of the beings belying the strength they possessed. And slowly they moved him to the water. Others were already standing in the pool, and their hands reached to take the burden. Soon he was lying atop the water’s surface.

Slowly, gently, water was dabbed across the wound on his head; caressing the flakes of blood and grime from his body. Another creature tended to his hand, similarly seeking to erase the evidence of his injury.

They worked with no haste now. Their task required them to prepare the pink being meticulously, and each concentrated on their portion of what was required. No sound escaped their wide mouths. They worked as one, as if their hands were part of a single mind, as they rinsed dirt from the man’s dark hair, and scrubbed mud from under his nails.

Throughout their slow progress the man remained unconscious, his countenance pained. He had been near death when they had arrived, though it was just as they expected. Things weren’t always as they expected, but in this thing there had been no doubt.

When finally the body was prepared, the creatures all bowed their heads, as if in some silent ritual.
 
After no more than a few moments, their hands worked again in unison to pull the man beneath the water’s surface, and as they did so more Kerid stones – this time from within the pool – began to shine.
 
Their glow increased slowly at first; then became stronger. The creatures kept their eyes closed, whether as part of the rite or to hide them from the brightness to which they were not accustomed no observer would know. And then, the glow of the stones began to fade.

As the Kerid stones finally returned to their earlier state, the creatures restored the man to the water’s surface. His breathing had become regular again, and his face now displayed peace. Though his injuries would take time to heal, he would now survive. They had not known whether he would live or die under the water. No-one watching them would have been able to determine whether they cared.

***

Slowly Michael began to regain consciousness. The stone floor lay cold beneath his body, although the air around him was warm.

What quickly struck him though, before he opened his eyes, was that the turmoil that he now realised had afflicted him for as long as he could remember had returned. Before his… vision – he quickly discounted it being a dream – he hadn’t even been aware of its constant presence. But now he felt it, like a constrictor snake wrapped around him, seeking to inflict an endless torment rather than death.

But he knew now that it was a masquerade of truth. As he thought of his mother and of Aneh, the feelings of guilt still washed over him, their deaths again on his conscience. But he now remembered a time
not
feeling that way; remembered being able think of them with joy as well as with pain. That memory was now a lifeline for him. It gave him hope that the feelings that were again poisoning his veins could eventually pass.
No
,
they
will
pass
, he tried to convince himself.

The image of Aneh lingered, and he remembered also finally seeing the truth that he had loved her.
 
Their time together had been brief, but his feelings had developed beyond friendship. She couldn’t have reciprocated those feelings, he knew, and of course she now never would. The woman in his vision had said,
Death is not the end of love, but the beginning.
He didn’t understand what that meant, but if Aneh’s soul survived somewhere perhaps a time would come when he would be able to tell her. That thought, too, gave him hope.

Now fully conscious, he decided to try to move his body before sitting. He remembered the pain of movement when he had crawled from under the bush; and he had fallen down a hole that had doubled his injuries since then. But as he tried to move his broken toe first, he realised it was strapped. Someone had found him, and bound his toe.

The thought startled his eyes into opening. He had expected to be in the dark, but the presence of a dim orange light wasn’t what most surprised him. As he peered above, returning his gaze were two blood red eyes. Below them lay a flat nose, imprinted in a charcoal black face. As their eyes met the creature widened its mouth, its black teeth pointed like ebony daggers.

Fear again filled Michael’s chest. He had been taken by a demon.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
 

Delay

Men sorrow when the truth is revealed to be different from that which they believed. But knowledge is a fragile thing, broken with ease when new light is shed. In truth, things are never as they seem. Happy is the man who learns to take delight in being proven wrong.

From the Wisdom of Ashael

***

Reflexes instinctively taking over, he tried to shuffle away from the creature, but two things prevented his escape. First, as his body jolted into action, pain shot through him. Although his toe had been bandaged, his hip and shoulder were clearly injured, the sudden move made his head throb, and pressing the weight onto his hand reminded him of the deep cut that lay across his palm. Combined, it made his body fall under his weight.

But even if it were not for his body’s weakness, as he fell again he did so against a wall that lay at his back. He quickly knew that if he was going to flee from the demon he would have to somehow get around it, and he didn’t have the physical strength to do so.

The thought of Jashmarael leading his army towards the Elahish gave him reason to again make an attempt to rise, though. He was more cautious this time, but before he reached a sitting position, his head was spinning and he was forced to lean back again.

The creature remained still throughout Michael’s feeble attempts at escape, and he knew that his efforts must have looked pathetic: comical even. He also realised that if the black being wanted to do him harm, it could easily have done so while he was unconscious. That thought eased his breathing a little, and he was able to close his eyes briefly to enable his head to settle.

When he felt the world no longer swaying, he again opened his eyes. The demon – no, he should stop calling it that. Jashmarael had called them Nixu, perhaps he had told the truth. The Nixu still stood in front of him, but now had his arm extended towards him, his hand holding a stone cup.

“Drink,” it said. Its voice was deep for the being’s small size, and the sound gravelly.
 

Michael slowly reached his hand forward to accept the gift, carefully avoiding the long pointed fingernails that angled out like talons. Peering inside the cup, the liquid appeared to be clear, and it gave no scent when he smelled it. Seeing the clear fluid reminded him of how thirsty he was. Though he still didn’t trust the evil-looking creature, he reminded himself that it could already have harmed him, and took a sip. Realising it was water, he quickly downed the rest, only then noticing an earthy aftertaste. It wasn’t unpleasant, though, and as he leaned his head against the wall, he felt the restoring virtue of the liquid wash through him.

The Nixu seemed pleased with the effect and extended its thin arm, pointing to a small stone table on which lay a plate of assorted fruits.

“Eat,” it said. “Nourish.”

As it turned to leave, it added, “I will return… here”.

After that it walked off, leaving Michael alone to survey his surroundings. He was in a small room, maybe ten feet square, and looking around he realised he must have been moved here. He remembered falling down through a hole in the ground, but the ceiling here was intact. He also had a vague recollection of some coloured lights and maybe some water, but this place was dry, and the only colour came from a torch burning softly on the wall. As all surfaces were of rough stone, he assumed he was still underground.

He also realised that he was wearing a tunic, not unlike the grey clothing worn by the Nixu. Whoever, or whatever, had moved him here had apparently also removed his old clothing, replacing it with this. His former clothing hadn’t been discarded though. It lay in the corner of the room. When he felt better, he might consider changing back into it. Looking down at his feet, he could see that his broken big toe had been strapped to its neighbour.

Next, he spied his wounded hand. The cut was now scarred, its dark colour signalling healing was in progress. Touching it released soft flakes of a poultice now dried, and reaching up to his head he felt the same dry substance fall away.

As he sat pondering his situation, he found confusion reigning. On the one hand, the only other time he had seen the Nixu they had been attempting to harm him; possibly kill him and also potentially in league with the Guardian.

On the other hand, that it was the Nixu who had made the effort to repair his damaged body seemed to be the only available explanation. Why would they heal his body if they wanted him dead, or even to simply return him to Aperocalsa?

He looked at the plate of food as these thoughts went round his head, and decided to heed the creature’s advice, pulling himself up to walk across to the table, and keeping one hand against the wall in case his head started to spin again. He expected his muscles to scream as he moved them and was surprised that they felt loose and comfortable. His injuries still hurt, but he realised that if he was careful of them, he would be able to move around. The thought that he might have the strength to escape lifted his spirits as his hand now toyed with the fruits and berries laid in front of him.

Some of the food samples he recognised, and he started with those, eventually moving to those he hadn’t before seen. The aliments had seemingly been perfectly measured to fill his appetite, and he was soon left with what he could only describe as a small pile of grey gunk in the middle of the stone plate. He had eaten the fruits that had brushed its mushy surface and found it to be too bitter for him.

The nutrients had given him more energy, and he carefully walked towards his room entrance, peering into the corridor that ran outside. He had been intending to explore, to see if he could find an exit. But outside of his small room, the tunnel was pitch black. He briefly tried to remove the torch from the wall, but found it somehow fused with the stone.

He was still examining it when the Nixu returned, and he tried to pretend that he was just looking at the light rather than seeking its removal. But the creature seemed uninterested, instead looking at the nearly empty plate.

He pointed towards it again, and repeated his earlier command, “Eat. Nourish.”

“Yes. Thanks,” replied Michael. “It was good.”

The Nixu then walked over to the plate, taking a small portion of the grey gunk in his fingers and feeding it to himself. Again, he repeated, “Eat.” Then he added, “You need this.”

Michael had never been afraid of a skinny four foot high being before, but the Nixu looked more like a demon than anything he had ever seen, and he didn’t want to experience its wrath. So he returned to the table. The substance was slimy, and had a hard grit mixed in it, and as he placed the first dollop in his mouth, he wished he had kept some of the water to wash it down.

He hoped that the first mouthful would have satisfied the black creature, but it still looked at him expectantly, and so he placed another handful in his mouth and then another. He was heaving by the time he swallowed the last of it, but it was only then that the Nixu appeared to relax a little, moving to sit cross-legged against the wall.