Sneak Peak of Dreamwalkers

Prologue

500 years ago…

The sun beat down on the city of Avendale as its citizens went about their daily duties and activities. The bustle of the morning was nearing a close as the morning dew started to evaporate in the heat. Aryn tried to navigate the crowd of people in the market but found himself jostled at every turn. Finally reaching the stall he wanted, Aryn stopped to look at the fresh fruits available. He pointed to a stack of large yellow and red apples and then traded two bronze coins for them. As Aryn placed two of his three apples in the bag hanging over his shoulder, he shook his head in frustration. He could have been just now waking up in his feather bed to the smells of a hearty breakfast instead of eating apples.

            Aryn sighed and turned in the direction of his family’s townhome that was about 4 blocks from the market. He didn’t mind helping his father occasionally, but lately, his father had demanded his help every day, usually before the first rays of sunlight broke through the morning mists. Aryn had been traveling as far as the Dunbar River to deliver the multitude of letters his father imparted to him. Each morning, his father would wake Aryn by placing another large stack of letters at the end of his bed. This was the eighth day Aryn had been conscripted into delivering the letters.

            Aryn did not think of himself as particularly curious, but he had noticed the odd looks on the faces of the recipients of the letters. As the days went by and the stacks of letters kept coming, Aryn could not shake the feeling that maybe the letters held some information that was unwelcome.

            Aryn took another large bite from the apple as he neared his front door. He could hear his mother yelling for his little sister, Salia, to help ready the midday meal. It was later in the day than Aryn had thought. He stifled a yawn as he opened the door. His thoughts drifted from the letters to his bed that beckoned him from the second floor.

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            A rough shake had Aryn sitting bolt-upright in his bed. His blanket fell off his shoulders, and he gasped in surprise. The room was almost pitch black around him except for a small candle lighting an unfriendly face. His father stood over him dressed in his captain’s uniform.

            “Aryn, get up. We need to leave as soon as you are dressed.” His father said, his voice rough with sleep. His father was a burly man and stood around six foot tall. He had wide shoulders and a trim waist, which was unusual in men his age. Aryn was always proud of his father when the man put on his uniform, but by gods, why did he have it on in the middle of the night?

            His father had been promoted to captain of the city guard almost seven years before. It had changed Aryn’s family’s way of life. Aryn was thankful for his father’s promotion because it had meant better tutors for his siblings. It also promised no more restless nights after a meager dinner split between five people. But never in the last seven years had his father woken him in the middle of the night for guard duties. Aryn was only fifteen and not technically a part of the city guard. He was only brought in as a regular messenger.

            Aryn sat confused and stared at his father who had turned to walk out of his door. Then, he looked back at Aryn and raised a hand, motioning him to hurry. Aryn shook his head in confusion and rose from his comfortable feather bed. He stared longingly at it as he pulled on a clean pair of trousers and buttoned up his shirt. At this rate, he was not likely to ever get a full nights’ sleep. Aryn followed his father downstairs into the kitchen. His father lifted a sheet of mail from the table and draped it silently over Aryn’s shoulders. This was starting to get serious. “Why do I need this?” Aryn whispered, as he felt a queasiness roll through his stomach.

            “Our errand tonight involves danger, so I would like you to be protected.” His father turned away from Aryn, grabbing a few more items from the table. When he turned around once more, Aryn started. His father held a pair of heavy boots, a sword, and a helm. “You need to look the part, and we need as many hands as we can find, boy.” His father thrust the items into Aryn’s arms before walking out of the kitchen to leave Aryn in bewilderment.

            “But, where are we going?” Aryn asked as he gripped tightly to his new bundle of equipment, but it was too late. His father had already walked through the door to begin saddling their horses.

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            Aryn glanced around nervously, as he held onto his saddle with sweaty palms. His horse followed slowly behind his father’s horse. His father was riding at the front of a very long line of soldiers. Behind the soldiers, were a few citizens who were dressed in dark clothing and carried no weapons. Aryn hadn’t bothered asking any more questions. His father had simply glared at him when he had repeated his last one. He knew by now that his father would not give him any answers.

            The sun had been up for about two hours now, and Aryn could feel the lack of sleep muddling his mind. As they reached the top of the hill up ahead, he was surprised to see small cabins. The cabins stretched on for miles and miles. Terra? He thought to himself. He had never been this far east, but he had heard of the king’s decision to make these lands part of Arvenia. The procession halted, drawing Aryn’s attention back to those ahead of him in the procession, and one of the citizens in black urged his steed into a trot to the front of the guard. Once he reached the summit of the hill, he dismounted and dug into his saddle bag for something small.

            Aryn couldn’t make out the item this man retrieved, but he did see him cut his hand and let blood fall onto the ground. The man fell to his knees, raised his hands into the air, and began chanting in an odd language. Aryn glanced around nervously at the others beside him. They looked just as terrified as he felt. Magic was forbidden in Arvenia.

            The man continued his chanting, and Aryn noticed that the sun, which had been so bright only moments before, was retreating behind a massive black object in the sky. Could it be an eclipse? He wondered. As darkness fell over the cabins up ahead, the horses began to panic. Whispered voices could be heard throughout the line of soldiers as they calmed their anxious steeds. Aryn glanced around as his unease grew. Who was that man?

            The strange man rose to his feet and turned to face the line of soldiers and citizens behind him. He let out a booming voice, exclaiming, “It has begun!” Aryn saw his father begin distributing strange amulets or…crystals? The men took one and passed the remaining crystals to the soldiers behind themselves in the line. When they were handed to him, Aryn passed the whole bundle on. Several minutes passed by before the strange man spoke again. “You know what you must do. You know what you must protect your people from!  Let us retrieve them, so we ensure that our enemies don’t overtake us in the dark!”

            With this exclamation, the men kicked their steeds and directed them towards the cabins up ahead. Aryn watched in shock as doors were ripped from their hinges and people were drug out of their homes. He turned to see if anyone else was watching, and he saw his father. His father urged his steed back towards Aryn’s.

            “Come, Aryn. We have work to do.”

            Aryn shook his head as his father held out an extra crystal for him to take. He looked at his father in shock, but his look was returned with a blank stare. They were interrupted by a man riding up to address the captain. “Captain, the crystals are working like the king said they would, but some have escaped. What should we do about them?”

            “Find them. You have the orders. None left alive.” At this statement, Aryn’s eyes widened in horror. His father turned back to him and said, “You have no idea what we have uncovered here, Aryn. This is in the best interest for Arvenia’s people.” Aryn listened to his father’s words as he watched a young boy around his own age carried from his cabin by three guards. The guards laid him on the ground and touched his forehead with the crystal they held. Aryn could see the crystal glow in the darkness ahead. The guards continued to hold the boy down until he stopped fighting the hands that restrained him. As the boy’s screams echoed throughout the rolling hills, Aryn knew he would never be rid of their horror.

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Sneak Peak of Transference

PROLOGUE

500 Years Ago, The Court of Avendale

King Deryn slouched as he waited for the last of the commoners to enter his throne room. It had been a long day, and his back was throbbing from sitting so long without moving. Try as he may, he could find no cushion to keep him from aching after a long day spent sitting on this rock. When his father was king, he had designed the throne and had it carved from stone with intricate designs and gems inlaid at the top and on the sides. It looked magnificent, but comfort was obviously not taken into consideration when it was created. Deryn raised his hand and spoke to the guards along the entrance. “Send them in.”

As the doors opened, Deryn shifted his weight in an attempt to find a comfortable position. When he looked up, he was pleased to see that only one man had entered. Thank the gods. He is the last for today, he thought to himself, not bothering to hide his disdain. He was a king. He shouldn’t be wasting his time listening to lowly common peoples’ complaints. He had more important things to worry about.

Deryn continued to examine the massive rubies on his fingers as the man approached the dais the throne sat upon. He began speaking, and Deryn struggled to spare half of his attention for the man. When he finally looked at the man, he was struck by his size. He stood well over six feet, was a burly man and was dressed in heavily-worn traveling clothes. Because of his tattered appearance, Deryn was even less inclined to listen, but something the man said shook Deryn from his thoughts.

“…heard rumors of an imminent war with Calvenia.” The man finished. He stood still and confident and stared at the king, waiting for a response. His boldness made Deryn’s blood boil.

Deryn narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “Who are you?” he growled.

“That is of no importance, your majesty. What is important is that I have something you desperately need.” The man replied softly.

Deryn was not amused. “That is enough.” He said to his guards. “Get him out of my sight.” He flicked his hand casually at the guards to indicate that the man had run out of time. The guards moved quickly to take away the stranger, but the man stood his ground, not indicating any distress. He simply said, “My great king, aren’t you tired of waiting in the shadows while lesser men’s victories outweigh your own?” Now a smirk played across the man’s face, and Deryn grew even more tired of his insolence, especially when remembering his latest defeat on the battlefield.

“OUT, I SAID!” King Deryn roared, throwing himself off his chair and gesturing heavily at the doors. The guards grabbed the man by the arms, but he pulled himself free and ran closer to the dais.

Bewildered, King Deryn watched as the man pulled a chain from under his traveling cloak to reveal an unimpressive, white crystal. The two men stared silently at one another, until the stranger finally spoke. “This little crystal could change the future of Arvenia and forever record your name in its history as the greatest ruler that has ever sat upon the Arvenian throne.”

King Deryn raised his hand to the guards, telling them to stop their attempts to remove the man from the court. King Deryn seated himself once again on that uncomfortable throne he despised and said quietly, “I’m listening.”

A wicked grin broke across the man’s face, and his deep brown eyes glittered with malice. “Do you know what a dreamwalker is?”