Book 1: Shattered Dreams

Book One of Light in the Dark

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Read an Excerpt from Shattered Dreams

From the journal of Danthair, Fifth Chief Librarian at Traghnalach’s Temple in Ma’tallon, Kalduuhnean Calendar 1601:

Do we humans ever learn from the past? No. Petty rivalries, greed, sometimes even, as ludicrous as it sounds, religions were and still are reason enough for one side to war on the other. I would like to say our age is enlightened enough for us not to re-enact the grand tragedies of the world. I would like to say peace is and will remain ours. But I am a scholar of history as much as I am Chief Librarian, highest of Traghnalach’s priesthood, Keeper of Knowledge. In the most literal sense imaginable, my position allows me to delve deep into what has occurred before.

Complacency is the greatest foe of peace. Once the things our forebears have struggled and died for become as much a fixture in life as sleeping and waking, we take them for granted. Peace is something we have to strive for each and every day.

There are few things truer in life than the saying “war changes things.” In our day and age that is as much a reality as it was in the centuries past. From war and blood the elven civilization rose to greatness, and they only prevented the same from happening to themselves by granting humanity its freedom before history could repeat itself.

In the waning years of Gathran, first and mightiest of the elven kingdoms, routine was the dominant factor in the behavior of that realm’s people. It can be a good thing, but when the shepherd’s attention turns inward the sheep fall prey.

After they taught us humans the secrets of magic and insured that the Phoenix Wizards, as the world-spanning order of mages was known in that age, could never become a threat to them, mighty Gathran closed its eyes, napping inhuman dreams. For a time, the trust they put in their human pupils was well placed. The Wizards, while being courted by every ruler of man, did rarely get involved in worldly affairs, preferring to further their own knowledge or lend aid in useful ways, such as construction.

As I have stated earlier, this journal is by no means an account of history. The capturing of events is, as always, a duty my brethren and I perform as part of our sacred rituals day in and day out.

I made it my task to review and interpret the events that led us to our enlightened age.

The year commonly known as Phoenix Unmade (1383 K.C.) denominates the end of that exclusive and reclusive order. The sudden death of High Master Kalaith, the Phoenix Wizards’ last leader, and the absence of a preordained successor heralded a feud that destroyed wizardry, as we know it. As is usually the case when lust for power overrules common sense, everyone who deemed himself worthy fought for his right to call himself High Master. The struggle, in the following years called the Heir War or Wizard War, spread outward from the Shadowpeak Mountains, the Wizards’ primary stronghold, drowning all lands in magical violence. Mighty Gathran and the small kingdoms Dargh and Janagast bore the brunt of the destruction, the rift torn into the Shadowpeaks a warning for generations to come. The elves in their complacency surged forward only at the last moment to end the fighting. By that time, however, Gathran’s capital, proud Honas Graigh, lay in ruins.

For reasons only known to themselves, the elves withdrew from the world, thus leaving unguarded a door for an old woe to ravage the world.

With the presumable death of magic, the new age was heralded as the Age of Man. In my opinion this was a misnomer, for not only were there countless elves left in the world, but it was mainly the nobility, crafters and priesthoods that dominated the era immediately following the Heir Wars, not all of mankind.

Out of the ruins of Gathran, Dargh and Janagast grew a new nation, Danastaer, led by Halmond the Great, former High General of powerful Chanastardh. Four years after Halmond’s coronation, just as the people took a collective rest from rebuilding their lives, said door was opened in abandoned Honas Graigh. For the second time in a decade, war threatened the world; creatures born of nightmares ravaged the lands surrounding Gathran Forest and surged ahead to conquer the rest, for reasons that are yet unknown to us. It was only due to the timely intervention of the followers of Lesganagh All-Maker, God of Sun and War, that the threat was banished before too much harm could be done.

Reconstruction began anew, and this time the peoples were certain their troubles were at an end.

They were wrong…

CHAPTER 1

Fifteenth of Heat, 1473 K.C.

Liam held on to the leash, trying to hold the mastiff back, but the canine pulled on. “Beggar, stop!” the lad shouted.

“He’s on the hunt, you can’t control him like da,” commented Erin.

Determined to prove his sister wrong, Liam turned his back to the tugging dog, clutched both hands around the leather and pulled. For a moment it seemed he would win the contest, but Beggar prevailed and dragged him a few steps deeper into the forest.

“Let him go,” Erin said.

“Da will kill me if I return without him,” he grunted. Dusk was already close, and their parents would be worried. Liam didn’t want to think about the punishment that already awaited them for being late. How much worse would it be if they came back without the beloved mastiff? Maybe… “We should follow him until he’s caught whatever got his attention.”

“But no one goes deep into Gathran.”

Erin made sense, but “You tell Beggar that. We can’t come home without him!”

Erin grumbled, and he knew he’d won the argument. Beggar surely wouldn’t drag them too far away from the path.

“I’m scared,” Erin whined. Girls could be so annoying. This was just like any other forest, the same stupid trees, the same rustling when various vermin crept through underbrush and branches, nothing to worry about. “Can we go home?” she pleaded.

If Liam was honest with himself, he had never been in a forest at night, not deep anyway. He scowled, and pulled at Beggar’s leash. “Scales!” he cursed.

“Ma says you mustn’t swear,” Erin scolded.

“Right now, I don’t give a damn what ma says! We need to get out of this bloody forest!” His sister’s prolonged wail told him he had been too harsh. He reached over and grasped her hand. “I’m sorry, don’t cry, please.”

Erin held onto him, but she said nothing. For a moment, he felt the leash slacken, and Liam rejoiced. Now they could go home. “Come, boy,” he said and whistled. The mastiff, however, had other plans.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed, but if Liam had to guess, judging by how his feet felt, it should be midnight. “Look, sis,” he whispered, pointing up to the sky. “The moon, the sun’s little brother, he’ll protect us.”

“Really?” Erin asked. It was the first word she had said in a long while.

He was about to reply, when Beggar howled. At the same moment, a cloud pushed itself before the glimmering orb, plunging the forest into utter darkness. Beggar’s howl changed into a whine that Liam had never heard from the mastiff before. The leash, still pulled taut, began to shake. There was an instant when he felt he could pull the dog back, and tried. The leather felt less stiff, it slackened, and the shuffling told him Beggar was coming back. Then the canine reversed again, and pulled brother and sister further into the darkness.

Scraping along thornleaves didn’t even slow the dog’s continuous tug. Liam sported more bruises, cuts, and punctures than he had ever imagined possible, he swallowed the pain, knowing little Erin felt even worse. Her arm was slack as he dragged her along, the only reassurance that she was still with him was her hand in his, and the occasional sob. Neither of them jumped when a new sound joined the cacophony already present in Gathran Forest. Sure, by now he could see a little of the woods, but the looming shapes of oaks made him long for total darkness.

It was as if the trees were watching them. Every so often he felt a shiver running down his back. It was like when ma was looking at him, only worse. She merely scowled, but whatever was watching them put so much hatred into the glare that he could feel the eyes roaming his body.

“They’re looking at me,” Erin whispered. Her voice sounded so feeble.

“I know.” He didn’t know what else to say, wasn’t even sure he’d said it at all.

“I gotta pee,” she whined.

Liam snorted. “Think Beggar will stop for you?”

“Beggar!”

The mastiff didn’t listen, and pulled on.

Thinking about something as normal as peeing, helped him to ignore the stares. “We’ll stop soon,” he said.

“Really?”

They trudged on.

“Eanaigh, Healthgiver, hear our prayer, protect us from this wicked forest,” the siblings said. “Lesganagh, Lifegiver, send us your shining light to guide us.”

“This is stupid,” Erin grumbled. “The clouds won’t go away. We should wait for dawn.”

“And let Beggar go?”

“Stupid doggie. You should’ve let him go when he started pulling the first time. You wanted to take him with us in the first place!”

His shin smacked against… a stone. Liam cursed. “Damnation, da would’ve beaten us.”

“No, he would’ve beaten you. You took Beggar,” she insisted. “Ow! Stupid dog! Stupid stone!”

His feet touched paved ground, and the mastiff’s paws scraped on rock as well. He was about to speak, when moonlight broke through the cloud cover. “What kind of idiot would build a city in this bloody forest?” he muttered, taking in the sight.

White marble seemed to seep up from the ground to cover trees. No, the trees were the stone! There: an archway looking like clingfern. Was the thing before it, looking like a felled tree, a bench?

Even Beggar had halted, growling at the ruins.

A glint of moonlight looked as if it was cascading down a stone waterfall. Was it just made of rock? Liam stumbled forward, and this time it was he who dragged the mastiff along. Erin followed tentatively. It looked like a waterfall; the shards of glass inlaid into the stone created the shine.

He whirled around. Beggar growled, and little Erin clung to him, whimpering. A shadow, it had crossed the wall, he was sure of it, but there was nothing, except… No, impossible, but he had to be certain. “Stay with the mutt. Don’t follow me.”

“Please don’t go.” Her voice was barely a whisper and he wished he could take her with him, protect her, but if what he’d seen was true, this was no place for Erin, or him. Slowly he inched toward the edifice; it must have been a house once. There, almost washed over by a wave of stone, he discerned a window. Unlike the waterfall this didn’t look like a statue.

What could’ve melted stone, Liam wondered. The window was not the only thing the molten rock had covered. What was that? He squinted against the gloom, tried to discern what lay underneath the deformed marble. He gasped. Bones. A foot. No, two feet! Raising his head, tearing his eyes away from the wall’s bottom, he saw the silhouette of a person. His mouth, wide open, was clearly visible, despite the obvious nest of some bird. He could also make out the eyes, or rather the empty holes where the eyes would have been.

“Liam,” Erin said.

The calm in her voice brought him about. He could barely see his sister, or Beggar. Had he gone that far? “Don’t come closer,” he cautioned.

“I won’t, Ethain said he’ll protect us.”

“Who?” Then he saw a greater shadow detach itself from the waterfall behind Erin. It placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward.

“Don’t worry. All will be well, lad.” The stranger’s face, was it pale? No, it had to be a trick of the moonlight. Putting index finger against index finger, and thumb against thumb, the man made the orb of Lesganagh, and Liam felt better.

Maybe the Lord of Sun and War had sent Ethain to save them! He hurried to his sister’s side. “Thank you, kind sir.”

“Think nothing of it, lad, it’s just a happy coincidence we met, that’s all,” the man replied, and turned Erin about. “Let’s go, you look cold. Are you hungry?”

“Aye,” his little sister said. She sounded as if she were sleepwalking. They had been on their feet for a long time; she probably was just tired.

“Yea,” he said.

“There’s a fire and some sweetcakes waiting for you,” Ethain said as he led them deeper into the ruins.

“Sweetcakes, yummy,” Erin mumbled.

His stomach growled; sweetcakes did sound good. They rounded another bend, one that looked like the molten wall that had covered the body. This time he saw the relief more clearly. Here a family was buried! “What is this place?”

Without turning, Ethain said, “Honas Graigh, capital of Gathran.”

Liam wanted to ask more, but was distracted by a choir which seemed to be singing from up ahead. Now he also saw the flicker of flames. When they had passed another hunk of molten stone, he saw the fire. Even though it looked small, it illuminated a wall that seemed to have been sunk into the floor. Before this wall the flames danced… with shadows! It looked as if motes of light spun around flecks of darkness.

Impossible. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the motes of light remained, as did the obsidian sparks. The song, something was wrong about it. The closer they came the more distorted the music sounded. Wailing, hushed whispers, screeches, and forming a delicate counterpoint to the deep, somewhat distorted voice of a second man.

“And this is the Aerant C’lain.”

Liam wanted to run, get away from the two. He had to get Erin to safety! Da would be angry! The pair frightened him. His little sister walked alongside Ethain toward the fire, Beggar at her side.

“Welcome back, brother,” the one standing with his back to the flames said. “This is the best you could find?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really. They are frightened enough, it seems.”

“And the dog will cause even more trouble,” Ethain said.

Beggar! Beggar! Liam tried to scream, yell, drive the mastiff into action, but his father’s trusted canine remained as still as Erin. Erin! No! Leave her be! Why couldn’t he scream? Why didn’t she run away?

“You’re the older, the honor is yours,” Ethain said and bowed. “Ganaedor, do it.”

The other man’s hand flashed forward. The boy thought he saw long claws at the tip of the man’s fingers. Then blood spurted forth from Beggar’s throat.

As the dog’s life ended in slowly ceasing gasps and whines, Liam thought he saw something else leaving the mastiff’s body. The red liquid flowed, first in a gush, then dwindling to a slow dribble, and with this surge came—he wasn’t at all sure—Beggar’s silhouette. The blood-shrouded reflection looked frantic. It seemed to growl. Was this the dog’s soul? It bared its fangs, and the shine it had possessed just a moment ago vanished in darkness. Then the shadow shot for the roiling dance of struggling flecks, and immediately the luminescence of the dancing column dimmed.

“You take the girl, brother,” he said, holding the dog at arm’s length as it bled out.

“And the high honors to you,” Ethain said, as he reached for Erin’s throat. One hand held her by the neck, while the other, with similar claws, slashed over her jugular.

Liam wanted to holler, rage, scream, but no sound escaped his lips; he could hardly breathe. He wanted to turn his head, but his neck wouldn’t move. His eyes remained open, and tears ran down his cheeks as he saw his baby sister bleed to death.

Again, the same thing he had seen with Beggar’s spirit happened. Erin’s soul, however, was more willful, dancing, snarling, and glaring with hate. For a moment it seemed her inner light would not be overwhelmed by shadows. Liam prayed she would go to the Bailey Majestic. Fear and weariness won the struggle, and Erin’s spirit was swallowed by darkness, leaping for the column. Again, the dancing flecks lost some of their sheen. A voice inside tried to convince him this was all a bad dream, but as Ethain flung Erin’s lifeless body away even that hopeful voice died.

The older, Ganaedor, walked toward him. Liam tried to run, put one foot before the other, get away, but like his eyes, neck, and voice his legs did not obey. As if he was taking a kitten, the man picked him up by the neck and carried him toward the screaming and howling motes of darkness and light. “Soon the soulward will fall,” Ganaedor said as he slashed his claws across Liam’s throat.