Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (47 page)

BOOK: Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1)
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When his body crashed into the soldier’s, throwing him to the ground Michael’s hands were jolted loose from the sword grip, and he fell. The glue that had sought to impede his progress was suddenly released, and Michael’s ears popped as if an invisible pressure had suddenly been released.

As awareness slowly returned to him, Michael realised that the sounds of Devu’s fighting behind him was easing. Looking up, he saw the remaining soldiers staring at him. Their expressions were of fear, and two of them turned and ran. Finally one walked towards him, preparing to strike, but before he could raise his blade a blur of grey fur crashed into him. Michael turned to see Peran now standing over the lifeless body of his assailant; then saw another soldier mauled by Ippi as he too leapt into the fray.

There was a shout from behind him, and the few remaining soldiers were quick to obey the unexpected order to retreat. Turning his head towards the sound, Michael saw Amafar standing at the edge of the camp’s centre. Their eyes locked briefly, and Michael wondered what his former abductor was thinking.
 
But he had no time to ask as the Warmaster turned to join what little remained of his Rist in retreat.

Nausea now overpowered him and rolling onto his side, he vomited. When his retching was complete, he turned to look towards Aneh, but as he did so his eyes lost focus, and he collapsed into the darkness of unconsciousness.

***

He drifted in and out of sleep for several markss, but it was still dark when he properly awoke. Two light stones were uncovered in the centre of the tent in which he lay, giving him a gentle light by which he could see his surroundings. Disorientated at first, he soon saw the window image of a Shosa and realised that he was again in Aneh’s tent.
 

That’s when the events of the previous afternoon flooded into his memory. Running down the hill, panicking that he had been too late; seeing the combat, swords ending life after life; watching Aneh being toyed with. Then he felt the echo of his own rage: the blade in his hands dealing death as soldier after soldier stood immobile, unwilling or unable to defend themselves against a weapon that grew too hot to touch. It was only now that the realisation of what he had done came to him. Never before had he attacked another in anger. Oh, he had thrown words before, but never so much as a fist. Now he had killed. Not once, or twice. It hadn’t even been accidental. He had known exactly what he was doing; his savagery deliberate.

Many of those soldiers would have families in Aperocalsa; families who would never again see the fathers or sons who they believed were defending them. He felt ill at the recollection and again closed his eyes to allow the wave of nausea to dissipate. Yes, he had taken the lives of many men, but they had harmed Aneh and were about to do even worse to her. What choice did he have?
Anything
to save her.

He remembered lying on the ground, time’s march having returned to its normal pace. His eyes had grown unfocussed as he had sought Aneh’s face, and he didn’t know whether his fury had achieved its intended purpose.
Was she safe?
The question caused his heart to speed.

Forcing his mind to move on, he still couldn’t understand how it had happened. The world around him had slowed to almost become frozen, allowing him to do what was necessary, but as to how that had happened he could find no explanation. Had Jixi done something? All thoughts of his friend had vanished once Michael had seen the approaching soldiers from the hill, but he could easily have followed him to the camp. One of the other Nixu had used a powerful fire to protect Michael once before. That act had cost the Nixu his life. Had Jixi somehow worked a different magic? If he had, would he also have sacrificed himself in doing so?

By now, dawn’s first light was sending hints of shadows into the tent, and Michael decided to rise.
 
Movement to his right startled him briefly as he did so, and he quickly turned to see another person seated upon a pile of rugs. His heart raced, as for a split second he thought it was Aneh. But he quickly realised the face was too young. A smile still crept across his face, though; an expression that Kasha was quick to return.

He didn’t know what to expect to hear from her, though still her first words surprised him, “You look hilarious dressed as you are.”

Kasha’s grin nearly split her face, and Michael quickly realised how much he had missed her vibrant personality. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was still dressed in the grey tunic that the Nixu had provided him, but with his expensive – though filthy – coat from the Palace over it, and his boots. It had served its purpose as a functional covering for him, but he now realised it was almost certainly the least flattering item of clothing he had ever worn. Eclectic wouldn’t begin to describe his outfit.

“I thought I’d try to start a new fashion trend,” he laughed. “Don’t you like it?”

As she rose to her feet, Michael saw that although little more than six moons had passed since he had left, Kasha had grown in that time, her body filling out to now look more like that of a woman than of a girl. He decided in a few summers, she would look
almost
as beautiful as her older sister.

Kasha’s smile faded with her next words, though, suddenly looking very serious. “You saved her,” she said. “You saved us all.”

At her expression, Michael suddenly felt very self-conscious and his eyes began to examine the floor of the tent. “That’s an exaggeration,” he replied.

“No,” she insisted, “they left after you saved Aneh.” Looking back at her, he could see that Kasha’s face was earnest. “Before then they had been confident, as if victory were certain. But after you had come they were fearful. They fled.”

Elation shot through him. Aneh is safe. He had done it.

But Kasha’s other revelation wasn’t something he could quite believe. He had seen the fear on the faces of the soldiers when time had snapped back into place, but at least one had still dared to come for him. It was only Peran’s intervention that had saved him. Whatever had enabled him to defeat Aneh’s attackers had left him drained. There had been no reason for any of the soldiers to fear him.

“You do not know, do you?” Kasha asked quietly, seeing the uncertainty on his face.

“Know what?”

“You jest. Oh, I am so happy you returned to save us.” At that, she ran towards him and grabbed him in a tight hug.

After the initial surprise, he returned her embrace, but Kasha’s earlier words had brought a new hope to him. “Aneh’s okay then?” he asked. “Was she hurt?”

Pulling herself away, Kasha gave a mischievous look as she replied, “Still besotted with her are you?”

“No,” Michael said instinctively. Then remembering what he had admitted to himself in his vision, “Well…” Wait, no, he wasn’t going to tell Aneh’s sister about his feelings. “Look, just answer me will you?”

Kasha laughed out loud before finally responding. “All who stayed were hurt,” she said, now growing serious again. “Aneh’s injuries were minor thanks to you, but she has tired her body in offering healing to others. She rests now before resuming her duties.”

Relief flooded him as he heard that Aneh hadn’t been seriously injured. The realisation that he had saved her made his eyes water, and he closed them briefly, strangely not caring if Kasha noticed his tears.

***

After that, they spoke of inconsequential things. Michael’s head was already spinning with too many questions – questions that Kasha couldn’t answer – and so he asked about the Stay, how long they had been here, and when they would be moving on. Kasha was happy to oblige, her natural talent for talking almost without taking a breath comfortably filling the time.

After breakfast Kasha then informed Michael that he was to meet with the Lora.
 

“I’d like to see Aneh first,” he said. Even suggesting his need to see Kasha’s sister brought nerves to his chest, and he fought excitement with arguments to downplay his expectations.
What will she think? She’s certain to be Entwined with someone.

But his reunion with Aneh would have to wait as Kasha shook her head. “She still sleeps, and the Lora insisted that you come immediately after breakfast.”

Michael just nodded, hoping to hide the disappointment on his face. But he suspected he had failed when Kasha again smirked.

He thought he would find his way to the Lora’s tent easily enough. He had seen it in the centre of the camp the previous afternoon, and was sure he would be able to navigate his way there, but he accepted Kasha’s offer to take him. He had been dreading this moment, and so was happy for the company that would take his mind away from the judgement Arevu was sure to give for betraying them many moons before.

When he had decided to return to give the Elahish the warning they needed, he had known this time would come. And he had succeeded in his purpose. No, he had surpassed what he had expected, for he had saved Aneh. Any price was worth paying for that knowledge, so if the Lora decided to imprison him or worse, then so be it.

Arriving at the tent, Kasha wished him well, leaving him waiting outside the entrance flaps. There were no guards today, but before entering Michael paused, looking at the ground where only marks before had lain a wreckage of human bodies. The ground was still covered with their blood: blood that Michael had been responsible for spilling. Again he felt ill as he recalled his ruthless brutality, committed in order to save, and he finally turned his face away, entering the arena where his judgement would be served.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the lower light levels, allowing him to recognise the faces that were staring at him. He noticed that there were only seven present, and Michael wondered whether those who were absent had been victims of the previous afternoon’s raid or whether there was another reason. He was pleased to see Lohka there. He already knew that she had survived the attack many moons before as Kasha had spoken of her earlier in the morning. Arevu’s face also gazed at his. But there was no Berah, and Michael felt guilt for being pleased that one who had consistently argued he was a traitor – indeed had attempted to serve his perceived justice with a dagger – was absent; not knowing whether it was because of an unhappy death from the creatures Michael had unwittingly attracted.

But there was one more face there that Michael hadn’t expected to see. The bright red eyes that stared at him hung above a broad grin, and Michael returned Jixi’s smile as his friend walked to stand at his side.
 

“I was worried about you,” he said as the Nixu got closer.

“I did not… fight,” replied Jixi.

“Yes, but… well. What you did for me,” Michael explained, “I was worried that nature would require a balance. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I did nothing,” insisted Jixi.

Michael was aware of the eyes in the tent staring at him, but he ignored them. He remembered his own assumptions when he had first seen the Nixu and worried that the Elahish would consider them dangerous; that perhaps Jixi too was here on trial. He wanted to ensure that they knew of Jixi’s part in saving Aneh and the rest of the Waylet, so that they would know he was no threat to them.

“Jixi, tell them,” he said, “You somehow slowed down time, didn’t you? Or something like that anyway.
 
I wouldn’t have been able to… do what I did if you hadn’t done that.”

But his friend’s countenance didn’t change as again he repeated. “I did nothing.”

“Well, someone did,” Michael said, “and it wasn’t me.”

“Are you sure?” Arevu’s voice now interrupted.

Her words surprised Michael, but before he could respond, she continued, “How would you know that it was not you who slowed the world?”

He paused, not sure how to reply before saying, “I wouldn’t have thought it was the sort of thing you could do by accident. To be honest, all I wanted to do was somehow reach Aneh before…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, allowing the meaning to hang in the air.

There was silence for a moment before Arevu nodded to Lohka. As Aneh’s mother began to speak, her expression was more readable. She had always been kind to him, and he had saved her daughter’s life, so her gentle smile was no surprise, though her words were.

“When you arrived amongst us in our Autumn Stay, you were attacked by three Chet’tu. Do you remember?” she asked.

It was the only time he had seen Aneh afraid. They had been saved by Shosa, and afterwards Peran had claimed him. “Yeah,” he replied, “I remember.”

“How did you escape them?” she enquired.

“The Shosa came,” he said, unsure where this line of discussion was going.

“Before the Shosa came,” Lohka insisted, “How did you escape them?”

“We jumped in the river.”

“But the Chet’tu had already leapt for you,” she continued, “And Aneh reported that you took her into the water with you.”

“Well, yeah, of course I did. I wouldn’t have left her,” he insisted.

Lohka now smiled again, “I have not explained well. Aneh later told me that one moment she was on the rock, and the next she was in the river.”

He couldn’t understand the implications of what she was saying and shook his head, opening and then closing his mouth.

“Did you feel ill afterwards?” she asked.

“The Chet’tu had just caught my foot as we jumped,” he said. “I think its poison made me nauseous.”

Lohka now shook her head as she responded, “Our tales relate that the venom of the Chet’tu will give you chills and will weaken you. Ultimately it may end your life, but to our knowledge it does not bring nausea.”

He was trying to think of how to phrase his question when she continued, “And yesterday, at the end.
 
You again felt nausea.”

She had said it as a statement of fact rather than a question, but he nodded, eventually asking, “I’d never killed anyone before, so of course I felt nauseous. I still do, just thinking about it. Why is that important anyway?”

Arevu again spoke now, “On rare occasions, when a child begins to learn of his Weaving, such feelings of nausea accompany use of his gift. Or hers, of course. It usually only occurs when their Weaving develops late, or if it is particularly powerful. As both of these apply to you, it should not be surprising.”

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