Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (51 page)

As he reached the time in which his body knelt, he carefully released the strands he had gathered. A part of him began to withdraw his grip from Jixi, seeking a return to his body, but his friend held him firm, “It is not yet complete.”

An image appeared in the air to his right, and he turned to view it. People were running over the new crossing. They didn’t pause to wonder or care how the structure had suddenly appeared behind them. In the distance he could see the Waylet’s warriors desperately keeping the advancing soldiers at bay. Their defences had been perilously thinned, but no archer or swordsman gave ground; their desperate efforts to hold just long enough for their families to escape driving them beyond their physical abilities.

He watched as finally the last of the defenceless almost completed their crossing, when the Elahish defenders called their urgent retreat; now racing to join their people. The suddenness of their withdrawal caught the attackers by surprise and a gap quickly grew between them.

The soldiers then hesitated again as they suddenly realised that the women and children who had been trapped next to the gorge’s fatal walls were no longer there. Michael smiled as he saw some stare in wonder at a fully formed stone bridge that had not been there when they had first arrived.

But their Warmasters soon rallied them, and again they broke into a run, their faces carrying an evil determination to complete their planned genocide. If the bridge was strong enough to carry the Wanderers, then it would be strong enough to carry soldiers, and a sea of warriors now poured from the burnt forests, too many to count.

And Michael understood why Jixi had held him here.

If the bridge remained, the people would still be killed by Jashmarael’s forces. He couldn’t return the bridge to its former place. His Weaving didn’t work like that. He hadn’t actually removed the bridge from its position a thousand summers before. Instead, he had… allowed it to endure. One moment it had not been there, and the next it had never fallen. It was a paradox, and not one he could simply undo.

But that gave him no concern, he would find another way. Suddenly, a thought gathered and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Closing his eyes again he pulled his consciousness into the air around the bridge. His soul searched the atmosphere, looking for moments in the recent and distant past.

He found one, only a couple of summers before, and wrapped a strand of his Weaving to clothe it; another the summer before; then two more. Each time he carefully withdrew a sliver of his power, slowly building their number.

The soldiers now reached the bridge. The Elahish had made it to the other side and their warriors were again setting themselves to defend; giving their families time to escape into the ancient city’s ruins. But it would not be enough. They would quickly be over-run. Even the miraculous appearance of the bridge only delayed the inevitable.

Two hundred soldiers on the bridge, three hundred, and still they came. And they were barely halfway across.

Michael finally knew he had enough, though he had lost count. Concentrating, he pulled each of the strands together, the multiple objects now woven into one. Smiling again, he focussed on the clouds in the air above. The sky had been clear, but finding suitable conditions was simple and within seconds, he had black clouds swirling angrily above the crossing.

The sudden vanishing of the sun, its light too disappearing, brought the soldiers on the bridge to a standstill. Electricity began to fill the air around them. The power that was growing around them grew until invisible pins of pain shot at their skin, causing many to drop their weapons, and to scratch at their hands and faces. The angry orders of the Warmasters kept them on the bridge at first, but soon it was too much and some began to break ranks, then more.

Finally, it was ready. Michael felt guilt at the lives that would be lost, but he understood his Weaving completely at this moment. He knew that he could not wait longer without damaging time. He would do what needed to be done. He was… necessary.

He released his hands from Jixi.

***

The explosion was beyond anything that had ever before been seen. The flash was so bright that it would have permanently blinded anyone staring at it, but most instinctively reacted by placing their hands in front of their eyes.

The lightning struck the centre of the bridge with the force of a thousand bolts. Both man and stone went flying in a spray of dust and blood and bone, and those on the banks either side of the gorge were thrown to the earth. When finally the air cleared, those on both sides of the chasm saw that the bridge had been blown apart. The thousands of remaining soldiers soon fled in terror at what they had seen; a dreadful magic beyond anything they could have imagined.

It was only now that Michael realised that he must have been carried across the bridge when the Waylet had made their escape. He was still sitting, Jixi lying unconscious opposite him. Aneh too was kneeling at his side. He looked up and saw only Jashmarael standing on the distant cliff top. No words were exchanged, and the ancient malevolence eventually turned, walking back amongst the charred remains of the trees, his own plans having shared the forest’s fate.

Many were dead, he knew. But many more had been saved. A brush against his shoulder caused him to glance to his left, where he gazed into the eyes of Aneh. Why she had joined him, he didn’t know, but there was something in her smile that was… meaningful. He would ask about that later, but for now he smiled back.

Tearing his eyes away from her, and looking up at the pillar next to which he knelt he saw the clear image of the Woodland Star.
It is… you
, Jixi had said. Only now did he understand how true his friend’s words had been.

EPILOGUE

Though Jashmarael’s plans had been defeated, and the Elahish people’s extinction avoided, there was little celebration. Well over a hundred of their men and women had died, making in total nearly a third of the Waylet’s population within the last three dawns. Even two Sword Weavers had perished as they fought fiercely to give their people the time they needed.

Aneh and her family were grief-stricken when they learned that their father had been amongst those who had given their lives. His last words to his eldest daughter had been that she should run to Michael.
Strange
.

Michael knew that the time he had taken to understand the Weaving within his body had been essential to being able to use it as he had, but still ruminated on whether he could have done something – anything – to have speeded the process along. Maybe he could have worked more quickly.
 

He had worried for Jixi. His small friend had lain unconscious when Michael’s awareness had returned, and Michael had feared he had died with his efforts, and for nearly half a moon he worried that such a cost would still be paid. His relief was palpable when one morning his charcoal-black friend arose as if nothing had happened, again giving him his gruesome/cute smile.

Amongst Michael’s many frustrations was that his ability to Weave Time seemed to have disappeared once again. It had been so
easy
while connected with Jixi, but left to his own devices, it seemed he was back at square one. But at least he now knew he was a Time Weaver, and once the raw grief of his friends had passed, he could seek their advice on how to develop it.

As for the Waylet… They were safe for the time being. It was believed that none of the soldiers who had been at the gorge would willingly face the Elahish again. What’s more, they would spread tales of the terrible magics that had called lightning from the sky, sufficient to cause even the hearts of gods and devils to fear. At the same time, however, none believed that Jashmarael would give up on his aims. If Michael had been important to him before, then his value would have grown countless-fold since the demonstration of his power. Neither he nor the Waylet would be safe.

But those plans would take some time to develop, and in a moon or less, they would head to their Summer Stay. For now, at least, the people had safety, and something in Michael took heart knowing that he had provided it. It may not have been perfect, and perhaps his inadequacies would give him regrets, but still over three hundred innocent souls had been spared because of him.

Trust yourself
, the voice had said. As he stood looking at the camp that had sprung up – the blues and greens and autumnal colours of now familiar tents – he smiled, because in the end that is exactly what he had done. It had been a difficult road to travel, and many times he had believed and wished that he would die. But somehow he had carried on, eventually being able to believe that he had a purpose and could achieve it.

“Thank you,” he said, as if vocalising his gratitude would help the words find their way to whoever or whatever had sent him his dream.

Deciding his reflections for the evening had lasted for long enough, he headed back towards the camp.
 
He was now one of the Elahish, and he had work to do.

And as he left the small hill on which he had been standing, he didn’t hear the whisper that carried almost silently across the gentle breeze in reply,
Your journey has but begun. Now you must find me.

Thanks for reading Dreams and Shadows. I hope you enjoyed it. For more information about the Aylosian Chronicles – including progress on Book 2, Woven Peril – or to access my free short stories, please visit my website,
www.jeffreycollyer.com
, where you can also sign up to receive news.

For More Information

Thanks for reading Dreams and Shadows. I hope you enjoyed it.
 

The idea for the story began with a scene that is in Chapter three of this book, where Michael sees the woman in the town centre. The rest of the story grew from there, expanding within my head until the day came that I knew I had to write it down. Although this is the first book in the Aylosian series, I’ve tried to avoid it ending on too much of a cliff-hanger. Personally, I hate books that do that, so my hope is that you’ve found the conclusion satisfying, even if there remain some unanswered questions.

There are a number of themes that I’ve woven through the book; themes that relate to the society in which we live, and the human condition that we all experience. If you enjoy a story that contains those sorts of things, then I hope I’ve managed to include them in a way that you found satisfying; while if you don’t, then I hope they were un-intrusive, subtle enough for you to be able to enjoy the story without distraction.
 

After all, this is first and foremost a story of a young man drawn into a magical world where he must discover the truth for himself, and then overcome his fears to save the people he has come to love. And that, ultimately, is the story of each one of us, as we journey through our lives on this earth.

Occasionally, I’ll write a short story that provides more background on the world of Aylosia, and these are or will be available for free on my web-site. If I think such a story may provide spoilers for one of the novels, I’ll say so. But if you enjoy this book, then you may like to head on over to
www.jeffreycollyer.com
, where I’ll post them. There, you can also ask me questions, and sign up to receive news, including progress on the second book in the series, currently titled Woven Peril.
 

I’d love to get your feedback – whether you love it or hate it. Is there a part of the story that felt just right, or a section that didn’t work? Is there a part of the book or a character you’d like to know more about, that perhaps I can write a short story on? Please tell me.

Once again, thank you. In an age where time is so precious, I’m truly grateful that you’ve chosen to use some of yours to read Dreams and Shadows.