Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) (34 page)

It was Eramica who broke the silence, “What are your thoughts, my friend? How concerned do you believe we should be? I fear for my son.”

As she mentioned her own fear, Michael looked at his mother and could see her wet eyes. She had lost her son once, and he knew that it would break her to lose him again. At the sight, he had to blink himself to prevent a tear escaping, before Joh answered.

“You have found your son.” He looked at Michael as he said the words, and Michael was sure he heard a sense of disbelief; that he saw near incredulity as the old man studied his face. But the look didn’t last long before he spoke again, “And you, Michael, have escaped a Ravager. I would have said that was not possible, but here you are.”

At the words, Michael could hear his mother take a sharp intake of breath. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Joh slowly nodded, “I believe so. Clearly Michael – Rami – is very important to the Guardian, and it is what he would do. She sounds like one.”

“We must flee then,” Eramica said quickly. “We cannot stay here. If they would send a Ravager, they will not wait outside the walls of the Ashput.”

“No, you cannot remain anywhere in Aperocalsa,” he replied, a sadness in his voice, “but it is not urgent. They will likely know that you are somewhere in the Ashput, but will plan carefully before entering, so you have two or three dawns at least. Plan today, Mica, and leave tomorrow.”

Eramica nodded her approval.

“Wait a minute,” said Michael. “Can someone tell me what is going on please? Why does Jashmarael want me? What is he going to do with me? Where are we going? And what is a Ravager?” There was no pause between his questions, and he was now breathing heavily.

“Let me make you another cup of tea,” said Joh in response to the barrage of questions, “While Mica changes and goes into the Ashput to get supplies, I will then tell you of my own story and do my best to answer your questions.”

Eramica took her plain dress into the other room and changed. Michael and Joh were seated with fresh tea when she left, Joh warning her to remain as inconspicuous as possible. “Even here,” said Joh solemnly, “You should trust
no-one
. The Guardian has his spies everywhere. We can hope you came undetected to my home last night. That will add a dawn or two to their search. But if anyone recognises you they may move more quickly, especially if they realise you are with me.”

After she had gone into the area known as the Ashput to obtain supplies, Joh leaned back in his chair, breathing deeply. He seemed lost in thought, a sorrow covering his countenance. Michael was about to say something to break silence when he finally spoke.

***

“I should tell you something of my life,” he looked into Michael’s eyes as he spoke. “It will help you to understand the Guardian: Jashmarael as you rightly call him.”

After another brief pause, he started, “I have not always lived in the Ashput. My parents lived in the upper city, and were people of influence. For myself, I learned quickly in my education. I was not a large child, and being of smaller stature I often had to contend with boys who possessed a much greater physical strength than I. But I was the more intelligent, and learned how to manipulate them. I would use words to confuse and confound, to contradict, and to misdirect. Thus those who at first sought me harm ended up being my servants, though they were not aware of it. And that is how I became something of a leader in my school from a young age.”

Michael couldn’t tell whether there was a hint of pride in Joh’s voice as he talked of his gifts of manipulation – a sense of superiority that often afflicts those who believe themselves more intelligent than others – or whether there was a tinge of regret that he had been born with such talents.
Perhaps both
, he thought.

Joh then asked, “You have seen that the Guardian visits schools?”

Michael nodded.

“The people of the city believe he does so because he loves their children and enjoys their company.
 
‘Grandfather of all’, is how some describe him. But you must know, Michael: the Guardian does nothing out of love. Every act is calculated to achieve his ends. And even visiting schools is no different.”

There was now a bitterness in Joh’s words. It was obvious that this man disliked Jashmarael intensely, and Michael wondered why, hoping that the story he was hearing would help him understand.

“I remember when the Guardian visited my school. I had lived only eight or nine summers. He smiled at us all, but I think that only I saw the calculation in his eyes. He was amongst us not to see us play, but to judge us. And only I, even at such a young age, recognised that.”

“Judge you? At eight summers?” Michael asked, “I don’t understand.”

Joh took a deep breath as he continued, “Judge is perhaps not the best word. When the Guardian spends time with children, there are two things for which he is searching. First, he seeks those who have particular talents: natural abilities that will support his rule.”

“Do you mean things like people who would make good administrators and planners; people who are good at organising things?” Michael asked.

“Well, yes,” Joh replied. “Sometimes those skills are desired, but the Guardian is not needed to identify such talents. What he desires even more, and which only he can discern, are those who can perceive threats to his command. He seeks those who intuitively understand human nature and can secretly mould those around them to do their will. He seeks those who are like the hawk: floating above the dangers of the world, spying the smallest details below them, and swooping instantly and remorselessly – indeed with joy – to take their prey. He searches amongst the children for those who possess these qualities, and when he finds such a child, he welcomes them to the Palace where they begin their education in deceit and manipulation.

“Those who surround the Guardian are such people,” he said, now staring intently into Michael’s eyes, as if trying to bore the truth of what he was saying into him. “They have had a lifetime of such training. By their nature, they enjoy the game of it. And should any command be distasteful to them, there are… well the Guardian ensures that there is always a motivation to match their expertise.”

Joh now dropped his gaze as if in shame, and Michael wondered whether he would learn why: whether he had been ‘motivated’ to do things that he considered distasteful. But he said nothing, allowing the old man to continue his tale.

“I was proud when the Guardian took me with him from his visit to my school. My parents were overjoyed at the news that their son would be groomed to be one of the Guardian’s highest officials, and from such a young age. Living in the Palace with only a select few others of my age was thrilling for me.
 
The study was intense, but the games were magnificent. Not physical games, of course. None of us were interested in those. Our sports were mental and emotional. Put one in an impossible situation and see whether he or she could turn the tables on their attackers. Can you convince another that black is white? Can you make your opponent do the opposite of what they had intended, or if not, to feel worthless?”

Again Joh dropped his gaze, as he spoke, “We had one young man – quite brilliant really – who had been so effectively tormented in one such game that afterwards he ended his own life.”

Michael had moved his gaze towards the fire, but at the revelation his eyes shot back to Joh, a stab of pain hitting his own heart at the thought of a child being put in such torment.

“When the Guardian visited us after we learned of it…”

Joh paused now, his eyes showing emptiness as he was recalling the event, “When he visited, he congratulated the girl who had achieved so complete a humiliation.”

Michael’s eyes widened involuntarily, “No!” he said. “Surely no-one could be pleased that a kid had killed himself? No-one can be that… I don’t know, evil.”

“The Guardian does not think of good or evil,” said Joh, his speech returning to a matter-of-fact tone. “He thinks only of achieving his aims. Anything that furthers those aims, he supports. Anything that opposes them, he crushes. When my friend ended his life at barely eleven summers, the Guardian had no comprehension of a tragedy that had struck for the boy and his family. He could see only the genius of a girl who had achieved that end using only words. He saw a talent that would be of great benefit for many summers to come.”

The old man paused again, temporarily lost in his sorrowful memories, and Michael waited briefly before speaking, “The boy… you said he was your friend? I can’t imagine how awful that must have been for you.”

“Oh, well that is the thing,” replied Joh, sighing deeply. “You see, though I am ashamed to say so now, my sorrow did not last long. No, when the Guardian spoke to us of the
achievement
,” he almost spat the word, “my grieving ended. I began to see only the technical brilliance of using words to achieve the ruin of another. I soon pitied my friend rather than sorrowed for him. His end had been his own fault, I reasoned, for being too weak for our games. He had not been worthy of his place at the Palace.”

The old man now looked closely at Michael, his eyes studying his face.

“This is one of the great mysteries about you, Michael,” he said carefully. “Although perhaps we were all children who delighted in manipulating others to our own ends before the Guardian discovered us, none of us would have delighted in torturing another to his death before our Palace education. But it was not the education on its own that altered our natures. Rather, it was the Guardian himself.”

Michael was surprised to hear that Joh considered him a mystery, and was listening intently to learn why.

“You know already that the Guardian is in fact Jashmarael, the son of the great Ashael. What powers that bestows upon him even I cannot tell, but for one: he can corrupt any heart. I have seen souls that are pure enter his presence, only to leave within a mark, full of hatred or despair.

“It is not in the words he speaks,” Joh’s eyes drifted to the far wall, again looking distant as if recalling a terrifying memory, his words now slow and deliberate, “If it were the power of his voice, he could gather the whole city together and corrupt them as one. No, he darkens a soul one at a time, somehow reaching in to a person’s very being and twisting their core. And so it was with us: he would meet with us individually. I felt so proud to be meeting the Guardian on my own. How important I had become! I did not realise that in each visit my heart was blackening a little more. It is more difficult with children, but over many summers…”

He allowed his thought to trail off and looked again at Michael; a mix of puzzlement and wonder in his gaze, “And yet here you sit, Michael. One who has spoken to him every few dawns for five moons. Your desires should now be as dark as the deepest caverns in the earth, but they are not. How is it that your own soul has not been overcome?”

Michael shook his head, still trying to take in everything he was being told, “Maybe he didn’t try with me.”

“He will have made the attempt,” Joh quickly answered, certainty in his voice, “He would consider any meeting without such an endeavour a waste of his time. He will have put all his effort into touching your heart, and yet he failed. How? Until today, I would have said it was impossible.”

That he was immune to Jashmarael’s evil touch seemed unlikely. Michael knew there was nothing special about himself. A quick moment’s introspection brought a realisation to him, and the words tumbled from his mouth, “He didn’t need to.”

Joh cocked his head to the side, silently asking Michael to elaborate, and so he continued, “I’ve never been a very nice person. I get angry too often; too easily. I’ve never really had any friends.” He was about to add,
apart from Pava and Samo
, but he now knew that their friendship had been only a ruse. Aneh’s face unexpectedly appeared in his mind, but he hurriedly pushed that away too. “That has to be it. My soul is already black enough, I guess.”

He was surprised to see Joh smile at his words: a gentle smile that made him appear grandfatherly. “No,” he quietly responded, “I have seen dark souls. I have… been such a soul. And I can assure you, young man, that the shadows that touch your own heart are unlike those of Jashmarael. Perhaps you have anger that I have not seen, but you do not hate. You do not seek the misery of others.”

At Michael’s uncertain expression, he continued, “You were dismayed when I told of my young friend who ended his own life. You care for Eramica and have sought her safety. One who was touched by Jashmarael would not feel so.”

“She’s my mother,” Michael explained.

Joh shook his head, “Mother or not, you would not seek her safety unless for gain of some kind.
 
Jashmarael sought to kill his own mother, remember.”

They sat in silence again, Michael digesting what the old man had said. He remained unconvinced that Jashmarael’s darkness hadn’t touched him, but Joh seemed certain; and he appeared to have a lot more experience and knowledge of these things, so eventually accepted what he said, pushing his doubts to the back of his mind.

Finally breaking the silence, he ventured, “I’ve spent most of my life in another world. Maybe it’s got something to do with that?” He couldn’t understand how his life in England would have given him any protection against the evil Joh had described, but couldn’t think of any other explanation.

“Perhaps,” Joh sounded unconvinced, but if he considered other possibilities, he kept them to himself.

“But whatever the cause, that is why he will have attempted a Ravager,” Joh eventually said.

“What’s a Ravager?”

Joh briefly looked in Michael’s eyes, then turned them to the fireplace as he answered, “It is not only children with a skill for cunning and manipulation the Guardian seeks when he assesses the children, but also those who have a particular ability like his own, to touch – to
poison
– another’s soul. If he identifies any with such a talent, he will also draw them to the Palace. He will also instruct them in the arts of manipulation, but adds to their education that of seduction. And as they grow, he will blacken their hearts until they too utterly serve his purpose.