Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (10 page)

He had been careful to keep his bearings as he had wandered the camp and so made his way back to his temporary abode easily. Aneh had not returned, and when he entered through the tent flaps and saw again the thick comfortable-looking rugs piled against the wall, he suddenly realised that he was exhausted from the day’s events.

Lying down, he closed his eyes, and was soundly asleep within seconds. He awoke only once during the night, briefly becoming aware that someone had placed a warm rug over him. When he opened his eyes, he could see that there was a faint light emanating from the centre of the tent that was sufficient to confirm his surroundings. But he was soon asleep again, slumbering too deeply for dreams.

It was to the sound of light rainfall that he awoke, the noise of small drops of water being magnified on the roof of the tent. As his eyes crept open, he could see the tent clearly, dawn having broken some time earlier. The sight reminded him of the impossible events of the previous twenty-four hours, and he closed his eyes again as his head went dizzy trying to understand what had happened. Somehow he knew he wasn’t dreaming. The feelings as he had fallen through the air to the meadow; the sunlight as it had warmed his body; even the anxiety while he had been interrogated by the Lora – these had all been too real.

When he again opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Aneh sitting on the chest against the opposite wall. She was looking at him, her head tilted slightly to one side. As soon as she saw recognition touch his eyes, she smiled. “Good morning Michael. You slept well I think?”

Michael was still trying to shake his grogginess as he sat up, trying to pretend that rising in a foreign world was the most natural thing he had ever done. “I sure did. Thanks.”

He felt a little self-conscious at being observed as he awoke, but tried to smile as he apologised, “I’m sorry. I must have slept for absolutely ages. I didn’t mean to go to sleep so early yesterday. I guess I didn’t know I was so tired.”

“I am not harmed by your sleep,” Aneh responded brightly, “and I think that your body, and your soul, are both grateful for it. So an apology is not necessary. Do you now feel rested?”

Michael was now starting to feel a little more alive and at least physically restored. He was not sure whether he would be up to the mental and emotional challenges the day would bring him, though – not given the unpredictable events of the previous day. But he replied positively, “Yes. Thanks. But, I don’t even know whether I was supposed to sleep in this tent. You brought me here to wait for you, not sleep. I hope I haven’t made things difficult for anyone.”

“This is my dwelling,” Aneh answered, “and it was simple for me to sleep in my parent’s tent last night, alongside my sister.”

She had said it without any hint of annoyance, but Michael felt both embarrassed and guilty for having stolen Aneh’s tent for the night, and felt the need to apologise again, “I’m so sorry.”

“I said already that no apology is necessary,” she said. “You say sorry too much. Here,” she pointed to another basket of food she had brought, “you will be hungry. I have eaten already, so perhaps I may begin to answer some of your questions while you eat?” she offered.

Michael was grateful for a distraction that took his mind from the fact that he had stolen Aneh’s abode, and greedily started to help himself to the breads, cheeses, honey and fruits that were in his breakfast box as he spoke, “Thanks. Yes, it would be great if you could start to tell me about this place.”

He was a little worried that he wouldn’t understand her explanations so suggested she start telling him about Aylosia. “I heard you mention it yesterday, but I haven’t heard of it before. Is it what this place is called?” he asked.

Michael did his best to understand her explanations as Aneh described their land of Aylosia: a land that had been given to them millennia in the past. They had once inhabited the city of Aperocalsa that lay north of the plains, but had been driven out nearly a thousand summers ago by those who believed the Weaving was a threat, led by a man named Jashmarael. The city’s leader now simply went by the title of the Guardian. The people of the city remained their enemies, she explained, and even now would still occasionally send parties of warriors to seek them harm. Indeed, their attacks had increased in number recently. They had no idea why, and had both hoped and worried that Michael’s appearance would provide some explanation.
 

Their own people were called the Elahish, and they were divided into three groups: all living in the forests of the land. The areas each group inhabited were called Waylets, and they had a different camp – or Stay – they would dwell in for each season. This Waylet, Aneh explained, travelled the Southern forest, but there were also Western and Northern Waylets. In a little more than a moon – their measure for a month – they would be moving to their Winter Stay.

There were many details that Michael didn’t understand as Aneh talked of her land, and her people, but he finally felt that there were details he was beginning to comprehend, and the very basic knowledge he now had of where he was gave something substantial for his mind to grasp; provided a hook on which other details he would now be able to hang.

The rain had stopped by the time he had finished his morning meal, and Aneh suggested that they obtain some clothing for him that would be a better fit. So she paused her tales and Michael followed her from the tent. The clouds had broken, and the mid-morning sun was now visible, its warm rays slowly drying the grass that was sprinkled with drops of water. It obviously hadn’t rained much, but Michael still didn’t have any shoes, and the water that was now covering his feet felt cold. Chilled blades of the damp grass clung to his feet as they walked.

Though Aneh seemed to greet everyone they passed, it wasn’t long before they arrived at a large tent, its wide flaps drawn open. Michael saw a handful of men and women working with cloths of different colours and shapes as Aneh called, “Bilah”.

A woman in her thirties, with long hair black as a raven, looked up at the sound, and then stood to walk over towards them. Her square face looked stern, but her light voice contrasted with her fierce demeanour as she replied, “Welcome, Michael.”

Michael was surprised that she already knew his name and wondered what had been discussed about him, but said nothing.

“I must apologise,” she said thoughtfully as she looked him up and down, “Aneh did her best to describe you to me yesterday, but I am afraid the clothing I gave her is far too big for you.”

She looked him in the eyes now, “Never mind. You are here now, and I will do better.”

After that Bilah touched, prodded, measured, and poked up and down Michael’s body with sticks and string. It was uncomfortable if not painful and it must have been half an hour later that Michael left the tent, Bilah apparently satisfied that she had all the information she needed.

Aneh then led Michael around the camp describing the images that appeared in the fabric of the tents: naming the animals and trees that were depicted. He knew he wouldn’t remember the names, but it felt good to be getting answers that at least made some kind of notional sense to him.

It seemed no time at all before they were back at the tent where he had met Bilah, and he was surprised when she appeared with a pile of clothes and some boots.

“How could she make them so quickly?” he asked as they walked back to Aneh’s tent. “She was measuring me for longer than it took her to make them.”

“She is a Plant Weaver,” Aneh replied, once again using the word as if it should have been all the explanation that was necessary.

When he got changed into his new clothes, he found them to be a near perfect fit, and was again surprised at how little time Bilah had spent making them. The shirt was a dark brown, its rounded collar hugging his neck snugly, but with two buttons at the top to loosen it if Michael preferred. The trousers were a slightly lighter tan. The materials felt almost velvety on his skin, but when he pulled at them they felt tough as leather and he wondered what they were made of. Having been barefoot for a day or more, it felt good to finally get the boots on, and he left the tent to greet Aneh, feeling refreshed in his new wardrobe.

He found her outside in friendly conversation with another man who Michael guessed was a year or two older than him, and who she introduced as Devu. Although Devu was dressed in similar plain coloured clothes as everyone else he had seen, he was taller than most, and was well muscled. Together with his clean blonde hair, Michael thought he would be attractive to most of the younger women in the camp.

“Devu is the finest Sword Weaver in the Waylet,” Aneh stated, seemingly with some pride.

Michael was sure he detected affection in Devu’s gaze at Aneh, and felt a twinge of disappointment at that. It was silly, of course: he had only known her for maybe a day, and it would be natural for a young woman of her age to be in a relationship with someone. In addition, his main desire was to understand his new surroundings – not establish relationships.
 

But he had liked the fact that she carried no pretence, and she had been kind to him. So the fact that she might be committed to someone else brought with it unexpected disappointment. It seemed, however, that whatever a Sword Weaver was, it was considered important and if someone who held such an important role
and
was good-looking took an interest in a young woman, then that would be that, he decided.

So he smiled and just said, “Hi, I’m Michael.”

“Yes, I can see what you mean,” Devu said to Aneh, a sarcastic smile on his face.

Aneh was obviously embarrassed that it was clear she had been speaking to her friend about Michael and blushed slightly as she replied, “You are being impolite, Devu. Michael has addressed you, and yet you speak as if he is not here.”

Michael thought that Devu’s reprimanded look was pretended as he responded, “I am sorry, my Promised. Of course you are right.”

Turning to Michael with a look that was overtly sincere, but with an accompanied smile that now suggested mockery, he said, “My apologies, Michael. Welcome. I understand that my mother has afforded you temporary shelter with us.”

Again Aneh corrected him, “The
Lora
has determined he may dwell amongst us, and it may yet be permanent, Devu.”

But Devu seemed to ignore her, and Michael’s dislike for this man who had called Aneh his Promised was growing. “I am told that Aneh is to be something of a guide to you for now,” he continued, his smile widening. “If you bring any harm to my Promised, I will kill you.”

“Devu!” Aneh shouted.

But she could not stop him as he reached forward and grabbed Michael’s upper left arm, the bulge of his muscles showing through his shirt as he squeezed. Michael had known plenty of bullies through his school years, and knew that he would be best to elicit no reaction, and so despite the pain that was building in his arm he stood still and tried to keep it from showing in his face.

“Do you hear me,
Michael
?” Devu’s false smile vanished as he emphasised Michael’s name.

As emotionless as possible, Michael replied to Devu’s threat, “I don’t think I could hurt anyone if I wanted to. But even if I could I wouldn’t hurt Aneh or anyone else here.” For good measure, he added, “You’ve all been kind to me.”

He hoped that his response would calm Devu, but if anything the grip on his arm strengthened as Devu leaned his mouth to Michael’s ear, now whispering, “You may have deceived the Sooth Weaver, but you will not deceive me. Leave while you yet live.”

There was no chance for any further communication as Aneh pushed her way between them, forcing Devu to release his hold on Michael. “That is enough!”

She turned to face Devu, her face now red with anger. “You may depart now, and do not return unless you wish to afford the hospitality afforded by the Lora.”

Devu’s stare finally left Michael, his glance at Aneh brief before he turned and left without another word.

Michael had felt safe in this place since late the previous afternoon. Now he was again unsure. But what else could he do?

CHAPTER SIX:
 

Weaving

We fear that which we do not understand, and it is from that fear that we grow most dangerous. If one says the sky is red when we see it is green, we assume their lie is intended to deceive and respond accordingly. If another says they can fly, we fear they are mad, for we cannot know of any way that it can be so, and we secure them against their will for our own safety from their madness. But what if to them the sky really is red? What if they really can fly? What if it is we who see only falsehood, and they a greater truth? Would we not increase our own wisdom and knowledge if we were seek to understand why they believe such? That is not to say that we should be fools and believe all that we are told, for that would surely lead to our destruction. But equally we should not dismiss wild tales without consideration. We should not fear the unknown.

From the Wisdom of Ashael

***

Aneh had apologised and then had tried to sound natural as she showed him more of the camp, but Michael’s inner turmoil resurfaced following the confrontation with Devu. His questions, doubts, and worries were overwhelming, and coalesced to form the repeated question in his mind:
What am I doing here?

Although he had never been emotionally attached to anywhere he had lived, he wished he could go back to his flat and curl up in his armchair with a book; that he could wake up in his bed and find the last two days had been a dream. At one point, he asked Aneh if they had any books he might be able to read, hoping that he could at least immerse himself within something that would not be seeking him confusion or harm. But she explained that their books were very precious to them and they would not allow one who was new to their number to peruse them. The answer hadn’t surprised him, but he was disappointed nonetheless, and his mood remained sombre until after lunch.

Aneh had brought some more hettlesip fruit to conclude their early afternoon meal, and the sweet juices lifted his spirits somewhat. “You’re right,” he said, “these are delicious. Are they really the best things in Aylosia?” he asked.