by Ulff Lehmann
SHATTERED DREAMS
Light in the Dark, Book 1
By Ulff Lehmann
A Mystique Press Production
Mystique Press is an imprint of Crossroad Press
Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press
Digital Edition Copyright © 2018 Ulff Lehmann
LICENSE NOTES
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Meet the Author
Ulff Lehmann has spent quite a while waiting on his Midlife Crisis, and decided he won't go there. For the past two decades he has been developing the stories he is now publishing. Born and bred in Germany, Ulff chose to write in English when he realized he had spent most of his adult life reading English instead of his mother tongue, and brings with him the oftentimes Grimm outlook of his country's fairy tales to his stories. A wordsmith with a poet's heart, Ulff's goal is to create a world filled with believable people.
According to his friends, his place is utter chaos and filled to the brim with books, CDs, and DVDs. In an earlier part of his life, Ulff turned his love for music outward, singing in two bands. Nowadays the only singing he does is in concert with his shower, and it thinks his voice is still acceptable. His passion for movies led him to begin Movie and TV studies at university, begin being the operative word. He didn't finish. Instead life pulled him this way and that until he finally understood he was a storyteller.
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DEDICATION
This novel deals primarily with fictional warriors; men and women who weather whatever life may throw at them. I would like to dedicate SHATTERED DREAMS to a young woman whose battle is very real: to Liz Chambers, you are a real fighter!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks to Katti Mattern who helped me hammer out the kinks, and Kathy Freuden, my friend and editor; to Kathleen Stammers, who gave me moral and artistic support from the get go; Anneke van Heusden and Ryan Ryker Lazslo for the inspiration, and David Dodd for giving the covers THE LOOK; to Faith McKee for bringing Dunthiochagh to life; to Riza Türker, for the first map; to Sayan Mukherjee for the second map and for helping me flesh out the Woods of Gathran; and to Robert Altbauer for taking all the stuff I, Riza, and Sayan had come up with and turning it into this baby. My deepest gratitude, however, goes out to Daniela Bockhorst, without whom I never would have discovered who I really am; and Susanne Fritsch, who never gave up and kicked me until I went and got better.
Table of Contents
Map
Dramatis Personae—Shattered Dreams
From the journal
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
Dramatis Personae—Shattered Dreams
Anneijhan Cirrain—Chanastardhian noble
Baron Cumaill Duasonh—lord of the city of Dunthiochagh
Braigh—a Caretaker
Coimharrin—a Lawspeaker
Drangar Ralgon—a mercenary
Ealisaid—a wizardess
Gail Caslin—a Caretaker
Jathain—Baron Duasonh's cousin
Jesgar Garinad—a thief
Kerral—Danastaerian General
Kildanor—a Chosen of Lesganagh
Lightbringer—a mysterious entity
Lloreanthoran—an elven mage
Nerran—friend and advisor to Baron Duasonh
Urgraith Mireynh—High General of Chanastardh
Pronunciation:
Some names, be it cities or persons, lean heavily on sounds not usually found in English.
For instance ch and gh in Dunthiochagh sound similar to the Welch consonant ch, think Johann Sebastian Bach; same goes for Carlgh, for example.
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, religion 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 th
e 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, 1472 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.
