Echoes of the Dream
I’ve been named a thief, a wanderer, a scoundrel, and a murderer.
From birth, Fate has woven a treacherous path for my life, one I would wish on no other. Exiled from the lands of the Pact before manhood with the twin sigils of the Roth’Aman seared into the flesh of my hands, I’ve spent years wandering alone through the desolate plains. In those lands, one learned survival quickly, else one learned nothing more.
I claimed my first life in that chaotic realm, that of a man who would have done me the same favor in an instant. I could have barely witnessed 17 spans, but age never mattered to those desperate enough to live as we did. It certainly never mattered to the man who hunted me. On the darkest nights, I can still feel his warm breath on my face and the icy chill of his dagger running through the scar spanning my left side.
He would have gutted me like an animal and left my corpse to rot in the brush running alongside the road. It would have been as easy as that, but in that moment the change claimed my soul. I remember little else, but for the screams that followed, and that night I gained my true name, Kessith, and forsook the last remnants of my old life as the flavor of blood filled my spirit.
And yet Fate had such strange ways of repaying its debts. The only destiny I felt in my future was an early death at the hands of another man like me. But I must remind myself that Fate chooses its own course, and two years later, on the night I stumbled into Devarre half-starved and crazy, I found myself ensnared by its Will.
Chapter One
A Shadow of Purpose
It was nearly autumn. I could feel it in the chill breeze that swept down out of the mountains into the Shield Valley. My hands, even gloved, felt numb and dead at my sides. It was instinct that drove me forward, more than any manner of directed will. I could smell something on the wind, and it set my stomach to roaring.
Dimly I knew there was a village ahead, a tiny place that I’d glimpsed on occasion as I’d tried to force my way across the barrier and into the Pact lands. That had been years ago, and I hadn’t been this far south since. What was the point? It was dangerous being this close to civilization, but food had become scarce to the north, and what choice was left to me? I lived as a hunted creature in those days, scurrying through the woods silent and unseen. I’d already lost count of the number of times my life had been threatened. It hardly seemed to matter since I was still alive. That was my plan for each day.
I’d lived with an empty stomach in the past, but I could feel new sensations tearing through my stomach. Though it was a bright day, the world darkened and blurred, the tall trees fading into a murky background while all that remained clear was the road beneath my feet. I realized the cold was a blessing. Without it, I doubt I could have found the strength to carry myself so far.
Sounds kept drifting outward from the trees on each side of the road. They were ominous sounds, the kind I always kept alert for. Footsteps, perhaps. Patience, though. Again, a rustle came from the underbrush, but I feigned ignorance. Silently I slipped a dagger into my hand, releasing it from the sheath hidden within my sleeve.
The rustling started again, and I turned, snarling wildly and flinging the knife with all my strength. It sailed off into the murky shadows, but I didn’t pause. Charging off the road, I was determined I would kill the bastard before he claimed me. It didn’t matter that my vision was blurred and my balance skewed. Not until my feet caught upon a fallen branch and sent me sprawling onto my stomach in the dirt. Desperately, I scrambled to get back to my feet, but my legs refused.
I was helpless and alone, and the fear took me. I didn’t want to die. On all fours, I crawled back toward the road and toward the sunlight where I could at least somewhat see. Each second I feared I would feel a knife slice into my back, but it never came. When I reached the road, I turned and sat, expecting to see a grinning face greeting me. But all I saw was the murky outline of the trees.
“Ho, traveler!”
The unfamiliar voice startled me enough that I slipped lose my second and final dagger. I almost blindly threw it toward the sound, but some last vestiges of sanity made me look first.
“Are you alright?” The man was dressed in a dirt-stained brown tunic and carried a fishing rod across one shoulder. For a moment I was horribly suspicious. I’d been fooled before by strangers who acted as friends.
“Fine,” I growled. But after another attempt to regain my feet, I had to admit that I was far from fine.
“Let me help,” he walked over quickly. It spooked me, but there was no apprehension in his movements. If this man was truly hunting me, then he would certainly be slightly more cautious.
He came behind me and lifted me by the waist with almost no effort. Could I have wasted away that much already? “You look pretty rough. What happened?”
I gave no answer. Nothing my addled mind could create would have sufficed.
“Are you headed to Devarre?” he asked.
“Devarre?”
“I figured you were one of the travelers to see the pilgrimage off.”
Exhausted as I was, none of it made much sense. After spending years in almost total solitude, I found that I couldn’t understand the ways of others if they weren’t vying for my blood.
“Can you walk?”
I nodded. “Barely. Can’t seem to find my footing.”
“Come on, then. I’ll give you some help.” Balancing the fishing rod over one shoulder, he slid his arm around me in support. We started off at a staggered pace, tripping countless times before we found a rhythm.
“Who are you?” He finally asked.
“Kessith,” I answered. Normally I would have thrown one of a thousand false names, but as I said, my mind was not sound.
“Davael,” he said. “I’ve rarely seen anyone come in from this path. Do you come from the Vale?”
“Vale?” I shook my head.
“I hear it’s treacherous out to the west of here.” I could feel the anxiety coursing through him. The plains were known for their savagery, and any village beyond the Barrier was wise to be suspect of strange folk arriving from the north.
Still, I smiled slightly. “Only slightly fatal.”
“Guess it’s a good thing I was out this way. You might have been in a bit of trouble otherwise.”
I began wondering if it was him that I’d heard rustling through the trees alongside the road. He was lucky to be breathing if that was the case. “Must be Fate,” I said.
“Don’t worry, though. It’s only about another mile. Then you’ll find good food and some rest. The celebrations are about to begin.”
We walked in silence after that. If I had been in any sort of better condition, curiosity would have brought a hundred questions to my mind about what lay ahead. I’d been starved of contact for so long that I could no longer remember most of my old life. Something about the celebration he mentioned felt important, but it belonged to another life. As it was, the journey felt like it spanned a month of agonizing slowness before we finally came into sight of Devarre.
