Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (7 page)

He wasn’t hungry, having been given a light meal at the hospital, so he sat in his armchair to ponder on his remarkable week: from the dream that wouldn’t leave his mind, to the shopping precinct today. It was a lot to comprehend and he needed to carefully consider it all.

As his thoughts wandered, his hand reached to his chest and felt the shape of the crystal medallion through his shirt, his fingers rolling around the edge. He thought of the man who had given it to him – a gift from the lady he had said. He had also said,
“When you are quiet at home tonight, please take the time to study the etchings engraved on this.”

He pulled on the chain, removing the medallion from its hiding place. Taking the chain from around his neck he held the medallion in his hand, directly under the light of the table lamp so he could get a good look at it. The etchings were intricate and tiny, and he pulled it close to his face so that he could begin to decipher the images on it.

Starting at the left of the medallion, he could just begin to make out what looked like mountains, somehow being able to discern the snow on their jagged peaks. The mountains continued all the way down the left hand side. A gap appeared for a short distance along the top before the mountains returned, continuing along the top and then down the right hand side, although here Michael could see no snow.

In the top right corner bordering the mountains, it looked like there was a city. As he studied it carefully, he could begin to make out individual buildings. Along the lower edge of the city there were a series of waterfalls, cascading into a small lake, itself feeding a river and a couple of smaller streams. Michael was astonished as the water appeared to flow within the image, and he blinked quickly a few times, tilting the medallion back and forth to try and determine how the effect was created.

His attention was then caught by a domed building in the centre of the city. He could see no ornamentation on the structure, but felt strangely drawn to it, his heartbeat quickening as there appeared a glimmer from its walls. A larger structure then caught his eye on the very top edge of the city, almost merging with the mountains themselves. This appeared an imposing structure, as elaborate as the domed structure was plain, with numerous spires and turrets adorning it.
I’d like to see that building in person
, he thought.

As his examination moved from the city, he could see some smaller hills towards the centre of the medallion, plains to its right and above them. To their right flowed the river that had commenced at the lake, and then below and to the left of the hills was a large forest. His eyes followed the river down through the trees, and bending around to the left as it got near the bottom of the crystal.

He was again astonished at the level of detail that had been etched into this small crystal, his attention rapt as he thought he could detect a small clearing amongst the trees at its bottom just at the bend in the river. So engrossed was he that he didn’t hear the soft rattle on the handle of his front door; the sound of the picks entering the lock on the other side.

His focus intensified on the small clearing he could see, now even starting to make out tents. First, he saw only some shapes, but then some colours: soft blues and greens, and autumnal shades of orange, red, and yellow.

A soft click sounded at his front door, and the handle carefully turned, the door slowly edging open.

The river running alongside the camp now started to shimmer, visions of broken rainbows as if reflecting the sun’s light through the spray from rocks.
That’s amazing
, Michael thought. Then he could see a bird as if hovering just above the trees. Moving the crystal just a little made it look as if the bird’s wings were lifting and falling; as if he could actually see it flying. His wonder continued to grow.

Carefully to avoid the creak of the floorboards, a man slowly stepped through the front door of his flat.
 
If Michael had looked up, he would have recognised the man who wore blonde hair and had bright blue eyes from the shopping precinct earlier that day – and he would have been terrified as the man once again raised his right arm, his forefinger on the trigger of a pistol.

But Michael didn’t see. He was captivated by the images that were before his eyes. On the bird, he could now discern individual feathers; their light brown fluttering gently as the bird sailed gracefully over the river and forest.

Behind him, the blonde-haired man took aim at Michael’s head.

Just as he was about to fire he was struck from behind and went crashing to the ground, the gun flying from his hand, and bouncing across the floor.

Michael could see animals scurrying amongst the floor of the forest. He could even see shapes along the edges of the tents. A
re those people?
he wondered.

The blonde-haired man rolled over just as he was struck in the face by Col’s fist, but he was able to move his head the second time – Col’s second strike smacking hard into the floor and causing him to cry out in pain. The attacker threw Col from him, rolled over and stood in one swift movement, drawing a six-inch blade as he did so. Col scrambled to his feet and hurried to get in between the assassin and Michael.

Michael heard none of what was going on around him, thoroughly lost in the beauty of the world of the crystal medallion. He could see the river freely flowing, fish occasionally leaping from its surface, birds flying above the trees, and animals playing amongst the forest. He felt such joy, and longed to join the scene; willing himself there.

The attacker lunged at Col with his weapon, Col dodging it and striking the arm as it went past. The assassin’s grip was loosened momentarily, but he quickly regained it and turned again towards him. He lunged again, and Col once again swung his arm to parry, but he instantly knew he had made a mistake. The blonde assassin’s lunge this time had been a feint, and when Col had committed himself, he struck again, sinking his blade deep into Col’s chest.

Michael was ecstatic as he could feel the wind on his face and tugging against his clothes. He was flying. No, he was falling. The canopy of the forest below him was growing larger even as the light around him sparkled. He felt a light tingle grow into a pain across his entire body. But he exulted in it. He was falling, but he wasn’t afraid. A love beyond anything he had felt before filled him. No, that wasn’t right. He had felt that love before: by the stream with the bumblebee, and again in his dream. He was falling, but he was at peace.

Col lay on the floor of Michael’s flat, blood pouring from his chest and trickling from his mouth, unable to move. He was dizzy with the loss of blood, and his eyesight was already diminishing. But he retained enough to see the blonde man staring in disbelief at the empty armchair where Michael had only seconds before been sitting.

The assassin screamed – a scream of rage, a scream of despair. Col knew that this man’s life would now be forfeit, the solitary purpose of his life failed. He would be severely and painfully punished; ultimately executed. He felt pity on the man, his scream continuing as he turned and ran towards the window, jumping headfirst through it. The glass shattered, tearing into the man’s face, as he fell headfirst down the three floors onto the pavement by the front street, preferring death to the wrath of his master.

Col was not despairing though. He knew his life was inexorably ebbing away, but he had served his purpose. He had protected and nurtured the boy for six months, and even now when the enemy had found him, he had succeeded in his efforts. Six precious months. And now as the last flickers of life left his body, Col smiled, knowing that his sacrifice had given their land of Aylosia a chance. The boy had returned, and with it, hope.

And Michael also smiled, closing his eyes as he whistled through the air, and as the words thundered in joyous exultation in his mind,
I’m coming home
.

CHAPTER FOUR:
 

New Beginnings

As a man takes his first steps on a path never before walked he may be filled with excitement to learn of the trail’s destination, or with fear of what lies hidden along his journey’s route. These feelings may dictate whether he runs or crawls on his way, fear or excitement bidding his pace. Either choice, however, will leave the man missing the most valuable lesson his travels have to offer – that of the wonder of new understanding; for each new journey will offer such in abundance if only the time is taken to contemplate the path’s experience.
 

In truth, all new trails will be strewn with both horrors and joys in different degrees. The content of each journey is less important than the manner in which we make our way. For paths newly travelled, when sufficiently pondered, will lead ultimately to a greater peace, as the heightened understanding of our place in the universe gives anchor to the soul.

From the Wisdom of Ashael

***

He awoke slowly, his surroundings gradually making themselves aware to his senses. The memory of
 
when or how he had arrived in this place was absent from his mind. He remembered only falling through the air towards the new earth lying hundreds or thousands of feet below him and the joyous feeling that accompanied it.

Even before his eyes parted, he could feel the long blades of grass along his left cheek and surrounding his arms and legs. The sun’s rays were caressing his back with a benign warmth that maintained his mood, feeling as if he could lie here forever in wondrous bliss.

As he wiggled his toes, he felt the velvety blades tickle slightly, and only then realised that he was naked; but he didn’t mind, nature’s environment clothing him with its own comforting blanket.

Keeping his eyes closed, he could hear the slight rustle of some leaves not far away, the gentle breeze softly moving through the branches of nearby trees. The long grasses swayed in the light wind, tickling the skin across his body. And slightly further afield was a river or stream, the gurgling of water just reaching his ears.

Without moving, he eventually opened his eyes, peering through the grasses that lay with him. Thick green blades were accompanied with tall stalks.
An untended pasture
, Michael thought,
or maybe a meadow
. A tiny movement caught his eye, and he could just discern through the tall grasses a pair of large dark eyes staring back at him. As he lifted his head slightly to take a closer look, the small creature was startled and scampered off, hiding itself in the grass as it went, and making it impossible for Michael to determine what type of animal it was.

Still looking to where the critter had run, he was about to stand up, when a sudden voice stopped him.

“Oh!” a surprised squeal came from in front of him.

Remembering he was naked, and hearing the woman’s voice, Michael quickly reversed the slow rise he had begun until he was confident that he was as modest as circumstances would allow and looked up.

Standing maybe fifteen paces in front of him was a young woman of Michael’s age. Her loose mousy brown hair flowed freely behind her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were now directed at his. She had evidently just rounded the corner of some tall bushes when she had seen him and made her involuntary exclamation. As they now stared at each other’s faces, neither noticed the other’s cheeks turn a bright red, conscious only of their own discomfort. What had felt only moments before like a blissful sun on Michael’s back now felt like a blistering heat. He desperately wanted somehow to break the embarrassment he was feeling but remained motionless and unable to speak.

It was the woman who finally broke their gaze, quickly turning her head to the right to examine the tall trees. “Hello,” she said, “I am very sorry for interrupting… whatever you were doing.”

She began to turn around to leave, but Michael stopped her, “Please wait,” he called, “Um… This is really awkward. I’m really sorry. Um…”

The woman had paused but kept her back to him, her head turned slightly to the side so that her left ear faced him.

But having successfully stopped her from leaving, Michael now didn’t know what to say. How could he explain what had happened even to himself, let alone to someone else? At the same time, however, he had no idea where he was, he was naked, and he needed help from someone. Perhaps this woman could help him… somehow.

“I really don’t know how to explain anything,” he began, “It’s going to sound really crazy I know. But, I don’t know how I got here.” Michael paused for a second before continuing more tentatively, “Um… I don’t suppose, um, you might be able to find some clothes or something for me?”

The woman stood still for a minute, seeming to consider what he had asked. Clearing her throat, she finally replied, “I will go and see what I can find. I will not be long.”

As she started to leave, she seemed to gain confidence as she called back, “Please know that I am within easy shouting distance of Bow Weavers.”

She disappeared around the bushes, leaving Michael pondering why he should be concerned about weavers. The nearby presence of these artisans appeared to give the woman assurance in her safety, which confused him, and he decided that he must have misheard.

Quickly forgetting her warning words, and knowing that his solitude would be temporary, his eyes searched his surroundings for taller grass or shrubs that he might be able to hide part of his body in. He soon identified a small collection of green shrubs about chest high which were loaded with bright blue berries a few dozen paces behind him, and ignoring whether other eyes were on him, he ran back to them where he immediately felt more comfortable in their modest safety.

From here, he was able to study his surroundings more closely. The trees to his left appeared to form the edge of a forest, the density of the underbrush thickening the further back he could see. They were filled with a variety of different types of trees, none of which Michael recognised, but all deciduous – their orange and red leaves informing Michael that at least the season in this place was the same as from where he had come.