B008P7JX7Q EBOK Read online

  CHILD OF DREAMS

  By Usman Ijaz

  Copyright 2012 - Usman Ijaz

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author`s imagination and used fictiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Samra Muhktar

  Table of Contents

  Prologue - Into the Heart of Darkness

  Chapter 1 - The Call of Dreams

  Chapter 2 - Strangers

  Chapter 3 - Festival

  Chapter 4 - Revelations

  Chapter 5 - Leaving Port Hope

  Chapter 6 - Distant Forces

  Chapter 7 - A Hail of Knives and Bullets

  Chapter 8 - King and Seer

  Chapter 9 - Into the Woods

  Chapter 10 - Assassin`s Road

  Chapter 11 - Strangers in Bramble Woods

  Chapter 12 - Crossing the Rye

  Chapter 13 - The Lord of Hanna

  Chapter 14 - The Dark Forest

  Chapter 15 - The Tribe of the Woods

  Chapter 16 - Down the River

  Chapter 17 - On the Spirit

  Chapter 18 - On the Hunt

  Chapter 19 - Sune

  Chapter 20 - An Old Friend

  Chapter 21 - Betrayal

  Chapter 22 - Fears in the Night

  Chapter 23 - The Saddest Dusk (I)

  Chapter 24 - Death

  Chapter 25 - The Darkest One

  Chapter 26 - Asgar

  Chapter 27 - Now and Then, Here and There

  Chapter 28 - A Meeting of Chance

  Chapter 29 - Iris

  Chapter 30 - The Road to Gale

  Chapter 31 - On the Bridge

  Chapter 32 - The Saddest Dusk (II)

  Prologue

  Into the Heart of Darkness

  1

  The sky roared with thunder and lightning flashed, illuminating the surrounding landscape for an instant before plunging the world back into darkness. The grainy black soil was treacherous under Jonas’s feet, often sending him skidding down the mountainside. But he picked himself up and continued on. He had endured too much to reach this point to ever think of turning back. He fought his way upward laboriously, under a sky that had not shown a hint of light since he entered these dark lands days ago. The gear strapped to his back slowed his progress. Jonas stared high up, wondering how much longer he must continue like this and what he would find once he reached the top. But the top could be leagues away for all he knew; he could barely see two feet in front of him in the darkness.

  He stopped with his feet braced against a jutting rock and wiped the sweat off his brow. The howling wind that raced down the mountainside streamed his cloak around his legs. It was almost as though it were trying to force him back. The wind also blew the black soil in his face, often blinding him if he was not quick to shield his eyes. He stood there, bent over from the blanket rolls and heavy pack containing his gear and supplies, breathing in the stale acrid air. The urge to vomit had long passed all these endless nights ago, but he still longed to breathe in air that did not smell and taste like ash.

  His long hair blew around his face as he scanned the surrounding land with gray eyes, seeing the wasted ruins that he had come to believe was hell itself. Black shrouded the world, land and sky alike. To the east mountains stabbed towards the heavens, while to the west the barren land rolled away in dips and rises without a sign of life. But he knew there was life in this place, life in creatures and beings that looked dead and yet weren’t. To the north was the forest he had come out of, and the same black, lifeless trees grew towards the south. Nowhere did he see green things growing, or even a single speck of the sun’s light. Everything remained shrouded in eternal shadows. Jonas shook his head at his predicament. The journey to this point should have been easy for one of his blood, but thus far he had found it painstakingly difficult.

  He thought of his family as he struggled upward, dead all these long years. He forced himself to recall the night his mother had been killed, remembered the sight of steel in the night and the screams that had followed. It had started that night with his mother’s death, and it had ended years later with his little sister lying in a dirty street. Bastards! Cowards! They damned themselves and their kind! His hatred fueled him on, feeding him.

  The roiling sky overhead boomed with thunder and lightning flashed near the mountains to the east. Jonas stared at the sky with a face that showed his middle years, and thought the gods themselves must be trying to rip open the sky. If they are up there at all, he thought with deep bitterness. The sky was never silent in this place, he had found, but rather always roaring its empty threats. It had caused him trouble sleeping at first, among the many other difficulties this journey had provided, but he found that he was used to the sound now. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he continued up the slope, all the while the wind strove to drive him back.

  The Hensi had not met him as he had thought they would. It made him wonder why they had not come to him when they sensed him. Did they perhaps have any notion of his intent? Could that be the reason they kept away and let him face these perils alone? To hell with them, he thought, and laughed suddenly, a small sound in such a vast place. They were already in hell. A grim smile spread over his lips as he trudged up the mountainside. He would prove them wrong, and then he would find them and put an end to the traitorous bastards, the same as those who had killed his family.

  When he saw the looming shapes above him Jonas abruptly drew to a halt. His heart raced and his breath caught in his throat in his shock. For a moment he could do nothing, frozen in place. Then he realized that the shapes above did not move but rather stood defiantly against a backdrop of roiling clouds. And to think he had nearly destroyed them out of surprise. He studied them for a long while, waiting to make sure it was not a ruse. At last he climbed towards them.

  The large shapes rested on a plateau in the side of the mountain. They were formed of giant slabs of stone piled smartly atop one another, constructed to look like some crude guardian sentinels. Well over a dozen of the stone giants covered the flat plateau. They faced outward in every direction, as though keeping a wary eye on all sides. At first Jonas was so caught by them that it was a shock to see the large hole in the mountainside at the rear of the plateau. The inky darkness of the gaping cavern invited him forward and he obeyed without question. I’ve found it. The thought passed through his mind over and over.

  He felt as though the eyes of the statues were following him as he walked among them. He kept a wary eye about him, half expecting them to come to life and rush him. As he neared the mouth of the cavern, all thoughts of his surroundings, of this dead land and its foul inhabitants and dangers fled. He could only think of what he would find in the darkness before him.

  Jonas knelt before the welcoming dark and burrowed in his pack until he found a lamp. He lit it with a sulfur match, and reflected on how perverse the small light seemed in this place. The blackness before him seemed to swallow the small glow of the lamp as he pushed his way into the cavern.

  The little light the lamp cast was not nearly enough for him to make out the interior of the cavern. He walked among shadows, listening to the smallest sounds. He did not know how long he walked through the snaking throat of the cavern, often walking into the walls before righting himself, but before long he began to wonder if his desire had doomed him, if he were not lost in this dark. At one point he heard the sounds of some creature feasting noisily right above him. That it was feasting he had no doubt, not with the sounds of tearing flesh and suckling of bones and marrow. He was far from defenseless, but he did not wish to find out how much his powers could protect him in this place - alr
eady he had found that entering this land could mean his death.

  Jonas suddenly became aware that he could see the walls of the cavern and could see his hand on the wall. Here the darkness was mixed with the barest hints of light. He was closer. He looked back once, saw the familiar dark, and pushed forward. The darkness seemed to recede with every step he took, replaced with a dazzling light, and soon he found himself shielding his eyes against the sudden bright assault.

  He stepped out into a wide cavern of blinding white light. It was brighter than the sun at its peak, forcing him to cover his eyes and look through the slits between his fingers. There were no shadows in the cavern but only whiteness, pure whiteness. For a long time he could do nothing but stand beneath the entrance and stare, suddenly feeling small compared to the dazzling beauty before him. Even the motes of dust seemed to sparkle in the air. Color fled before that light as it cast everything in its pale glow.

  Then he saw what he had been searching for.

  In the middle of the wide cavern the source of the light rested, brighter than the surrounding light. Even looking at it from between his fingers hurt Jonas’s eyes. He took a step toward it, and felt the light seep into him. The feeling was so strange that he stopped abruptly. He could feel the light coursing through him, filling him. He shut his eyes but he could still see and feel the brilliance behind his lids. He fought to resist that purifying glow. He had an uneasy feeling that it was trying to change him, to overwhelm him and turn him from his path. But he had spent too long envisioning this moment, and of all the outcomes, this had never been one he had foreseen.

  “Get out!” he shouted hoarsely. He fought with every ounce of will he had, but in the end he thought the light left him of its own accord. He laughed aloud, feeling victorious for the first time since setting foot into this god-forgotten place. With his next step, an odd sensation filled him, as though the flesh beneath his skin was about to jump out. He continued quickly, eyes closed tightly and hands spread before him, feeling his way. Searing pain filled him as the warmth around him increased. The pain started deep inside him, but it soon felt as though he were aflame both inside and out.

  “You will not turn me back!” he roared at the unseen source of the light. It was half a cry of rage and half a bellow of pain. “I need you!”

  Then his hands encountered something round and he snatched at it, wanting to grasp it in his arms and never let go of it. There was the briefest of moments when the light seemed to reach back towards him. But the moment his hands closed around the sphere the pain engulfing him became an inferno of anguish. He threw back his head and screamed atop his lungs as his flesh seared and burned, as his insides twisted and stretched, as though something were trying to rip him apart. But the greatest pain of all was in his mind. It felt as though his very being was coming unraveled. Thoughts were broken apart before fully forming. For a moment of clear contemplation he thought his mind must be ripping apart. Then he realized that the damage was being forged far deeper than a physical harm. Then his very thoughts seemed to become distorted, and there was only the pain. His screams had dragged the breath out of his body and left his lungs raw. He stood there, holding the object of his search, the object he had dreamed of for so long, and moaned aloud as the pain wracked him.

  LEAVE NOW, BLACKHEART, AND RETURN NOT.

  The voice spoke clearly in his head. He caught a glimpse of something, surrounded in white light, with the barest hint of a dark outline.

  He was thrown back violently. He went sailing across the cavern and struck the wall hard. He lay there writhing in pain, eyes squeezed shut in torture. At last, when clear thought did not bring too many flashes of pain, he began to drag himself away.

  Jonas dragged himself out of the cavern. He came to the dark, never so relieved as to be surrounded by pure darkness. When he tried to think of what had happened blinding pain wracked him and he could do nothing but writhe in his misery.

  As he came out beneath the dark sky, fear and pain filled him to his very marrow, but beneath those feelings his rage grew into a dark fury.

  Chapter 1

  The Call of Dreams

  1

  All around Adrian there was a bustle of activity, from the harbor before him to Fisher’s Market behind and the greater part of Port Hope beyond. He sat on the small brick wall and stared over the water, struggling for control over his emotions and desperate for some peace. The large galleys swayed gently with the rising and falling waves of the water. With their sails furled the wooden giants appeared stark, almost naked.

  He shivered in the cold wind that rolled off the harbor, but a part of him cherished the bitter wind for the numbness it brought. He watched as sailors unloaded their cargo. Despite the chill, the harbor was busy as ever and people moved about their jobs. The docks reached into the water like fingers, welcoming ships and their crew.

  Adrian saw the sailors and merchants without truly seeing them. They were in another world to him, separated by a transparent membrane that nudged them into his awareness now and then. He was barely aware of the pungent odor of fish and spices that hung thick in the air, or the seagulls that circled idly above.

  As he sat there he felt a small measure of peace settling over him, something he had not felt in over a month.

  That was when the dreams first started.

  The view before Adrian’s eyes slowly waned and the harbor was gone, replaced by the horrible scenes his treacherous mind seemed bent on showing him. He saw what he witnessed in his dreams so much lately; all the death and carnage, the blood and screams, bodies being heaved onto a large pyre. He felt whatever peace the docks offered him dissipate. Tears suddenly brimmed in his eyes and threatened to overspill.

  From behind him came the sounds of the usual activity in the lower market. The familiar noise slowly brought him more and more out of his reverie and to his surroundings. Tears still brimmed in his eyes but he fought to hold them back. There was a woman in the dreams, that much he knew. What they did to her was horrible. He felt a bitter hatred for them, whoever they might be.

  He sat and stared out into the harbor, watched as new ships came and others left, trying to find his peace again. It was not long before Connor appeared around the wall and spotted him.

  “There you are!” he cried jovially. He strode down to Adrian’s side and hoisted himself up onto the wall. “Should have known you’d be down here.”

  Adrian didn’t turn to look at him. “What is it? Does Quinn want us back to work?”

  “No. But we’ll have to head back soon anyway, a lot of work to be done, you know.”

  “I know,” said Adrian without much enthusiasm. He did not dislike working in his uncle’s stables, but lately he simply did not have the heart for any task.

  For a few moments they sat in silence. Adrian noticed Connor watching him in sidelong glances, and knew what his cousin was thinking.

  “It’s the dreams still, isn’t it?” Connor asked.

  “Yes.” Adrian turned and looked at his cousin’s worried face. At fourteen, Connor was the elder by a few months and half a foot taller, but at the moment worry made him look younger. His brown hair curled down nearly to his eyes, free and unkempt, just as Adrian always thought of him. It was sad to look at him now without his usual carefree smile.

  “Are you sure they’re not just simple dreams?” Connor asked, though he sounded doubtful himself.

  Adrian shook his head. These were not simple dreams, whatever they were.

  “Why won’t you tell my father?”

  Adrian only shrugged. How could he tell Connor that he did not feel there was anything his father could do? Perhaps if the dreams continued then he would tell Uncle Jon, but for now he meant to keep it between Connor and himself.

  For a while longer they sat there and watched the ships roll in, then they made their way back home.

  2

  The lower market was all abuzz in the evening. The smell of fish and spices was strong, but underneath it la
y the distinct odors of sweat and food fried in tortoise oil. But the smells were not so sharp or loud as the voices that made up the usual din of the market; voices of those bargaining with hawkers or hailing one another, of merchants shouting out their wares.

  The two boys made their way slowly through the crowd, walking in the shade thrown by a tall warehouse on one side of the street, hardly looking twice at any of the vendor’s booths or the small shops that lined both sides of the street. They had explored them all countless times before. At last they escaped the stirred anthill that was Fisher’s Market and turned towards home. Buildings of stone and plaster as often as whitewashed wood looked down on them, their windows either shuttered tightly or open to the fading light of the sinking sun.

  Connor regarded his cousin in quick sidelong glances, and his heart went out to Adrian. Looking at his cousin he was reminded of a cheerful boy who had greeted everyone and everything with a smile that was both honest and open. When he looked at Adrian now, he saw only a ghost of that boy. These days Adrian spent too much of his time gazing out someplace Connor couldn’t see, his face always creased in worry or despair with a shadow of fear. His cousin looked haunted.

  He worried that the dreams Adrian complained about so much were slowly unraveling him from the inside out. In a vain attempt to cheer him up, Connor said, “I wonder if Jaime still reeks of stale eggs.” It had been a small prank they played on Jaime for refusing to pay a lost wager after a game of marbles.

  “I don’t know,” Adrian mumbled. His eyes had a faraway look to them, and he sounded as though he spoke from a great distance.

  Connor gave up and they walked in silence.

  3

  The walls of The Golden Lilly were painted a mosaic of white and pale yellow, with windows at regular intervals along the walls. A red tiled roof jutted over the sides like an oversized hat. Adjoining the inn were the stables, a large wooden structure that looked out of place in the surrounding opulence. Adrian almost felt at peace in the stables, where he and Connor spent much of their afternoons taking care of the animals.