the sleeper wakes second sample

75 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /

I must go. It appears I have no other choice. How

will they know unless I prepare the way?

-From the Diary of Perwaldd,

Bard of the Aird Righ

SEVEN

TWO WORLDS

“Uncle Walt!” Daniel raced into the house, yelling

desperately for his uncle, the back door banging behind

him. The racket brought Sophie scrambling out of the

laundry room, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Here now, what’s all the ruckus about?”

Danny skidded past her on his way through the kitchen.

He shouted over his shoulder, “Sarah’s gone!”

“Gone! What are you talking about? Gone where?

Daniel!”

Daniel tore through the house, hollering for his

uncle. He burst through the library doors, breathless.

“Uncle Walt!”


His uncle sat behind the desk in the center of the

room, calmly smoking his pipe, not a care in the world.

Daniel couldn’t contain himself.

“Uncle Walt, Sarah’s gone! She just disappeared!”

His uncle puffed away at his pipe, eyeing him carefully.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said Sarah’s gone!”

“I heard you, dear boy. I heard you.” Thomas was

escorted in by Sophie at that moment. Uncle Walt looked

over Daniel’s shoulder at the neighbor boy. “Ah, Master

Kinnaird. Well met?”

Thomas nodded, but looked from Uncle Walt to Daniel

and back. “I guess so.”

Sophie cleared her throat. “Sir, the boys said

something about Sarah going missing. Shouldn’t we-”

But Uncle Walter cut her off. “Don’t worry, Sophie,

I’ve got everything well in hand. The girl is just fine.

The children are simply playing about.” Before the boys

could protest, he stood to usher Sophie out of the library

and closed the door with a final reassuring word. “I’ll

make sure they’re all back by dinnertime, don’t you worry.

You know children and their games…”

And with that, the three of them were alone. Daniel

was stunned at Uncle Walt’s brusque dismissal of Sophie,

and his apparent lack of concern for Sarah.


“Uncle Walt, about Sarah?”

His uncle turned abruptly to face him, leaning

forward, working his pipe from side to side excitedly. “So

where were you, lad?”

“What do you mean, when she disappeared?”

“Yes, where did you last see her?”

Thomas and Daniel exchanged glances. Daniel

continued. “Well, we were exploring the old stone mound.

The… cairn, over at the edge of the wood, by the road.”

“The birch circle?” Uncle Walt asked with a smile.

Daniel nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Excellent, excellent! Continue.”

Thomas chimed in. “She was actin’ kinda strange,

actually, sir.”

“Oh, how’s that?”

“Well first she was just walking around the cairn

totally ignoring us. Then she started talking to herself,

and laughing and such. Well, not really to herself,” he

added, “But… to a dragonfly.”

Uncle Walt went back to his desk, sat down, drew a few

puffs on his pipe. He was silent for a moment. “Walking

in circles… yes, that would do it. A dragonfly, you say?”

Thomas nodded. “Aye. It nearly took Danny’s head

off.”


Uncle Walt laughed. “Yes. They can be a territorial

lot, and temperamental. Especially the guardians.”

The boys exchanged another worried look. This didn’t

seem to be going anywhere.

Daniel offered a suggestion. “Uncle Walt, shouldn’t

you be calling the police or something? What if she’s

hurt?”

The older gentleman chuckled. “Don’t worry, my boy,

she’s fine. I daresay she’s having herself a grand time.

I had a feeling she’d be the first. Vivid imagination,

that one. Comes with being a book lover. You won’t be far

behind, if you can let go of this side, that is.”

Daniel approached the desk. “Wait, so you know where

she is?” He frowned. “Is she playing some kind of trick on

us? Are you in on it? If this is some game, it’s not very

funny!”

“Oh no, it’s no game, though it is fun.” He chuckled

some more. “Yes, I do know where she is.”

Thomas came over and stood next to Daniel. “And?”

Uncle Walt puffed on his pipe a few more times before

answering.

“Albáin.”

#


“You’re crackers, you are,” Thomas declared as the

three sat in the library, Uncle Walt sipping the tea that

Sophie brought in for him. She left two mugs of chocolate

for the boys, but they weren’t interested.

“There’s no such place. It’s just a story: make-

believe, a tale told by people like me grandpa to little

children. It’s all fantasy.”

Uncle Walt huffed. “Spoken like a true wise man.

Wise in the ways of the world. This world. Foolishness.”

Daniel spoke up then, more to keep Thomas from arguing

back than anything else. “Maybe I could understand all

this better if I knew what Albáin was.”

Thomas scoffed. “The land o’ make-believe.

Wonderland. A dreamland. A place for dreamers.”

Daniel folded his arms in disbelief, his frown

deepening. He was frustrated at his uncle for wanting to

talk about some dreamland place at a time like this.

“I’m afraid that’s not a very good definition, Master

Kinnaird. Not in the least. Though, the bit about being a

place for dreamers isn’t bad.”

Thomas scowled. “Alright then, what is it?”

“The Otherworld.”


“I’m confused,” Daniel shook his head. “What’s the

difference between the Otherworld, and what Thomas

described?”

“Thomas’ description is of a world that is unreal. Or

less real than this one. Whatever his intended definition,

it is incorrect. Albáin is just as real as this one. In

fact, it is even more real than our world.”

Daniel frowned again. “I don’t understand.”

“Clearly. Or right now, you and your sister would be

enjoying her adventure together. No matter, you will

follow soon enough. What I mean is, Albáin is in existence

at the same time as this world. It is like ours, but

unlike ours.”

"That didn’t help.”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

Uncle Walt leaned back in his chair. “You heard me

tell you that you were created to create, remember?”

Daniel nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

“And the one who created you has a vivid imagination.”

Uncle Walt looked around and gestured wide with his arms.

“Look at everything around you and see just how vivid. All

that you see here in this world has a… blueprint, if you

will, in that world.”


Daniel sat in silence, still not understanding, but

patiently waiting for his uncle to continue. Uncle Walt

smiled at that. “Very good. Remain silent, and learn. A

tree in our world is a tree. But it is to be admired, too,

because it is beautiful. An artist can paint a tree, and

paint it in grand fashion. The painting, too, is

beautiful. But all of that beauty and appreciation must

come from somewhere. Our world is merely a shadowy

reflection of something much more fantastic. The tree is

beautiful because there is another world, an unspoiled

world, a world where beauty originates. A world that is

beauty, a place that defines it, embodies it. That world

runs concurrent to this one. Where there is an archetype

of every perfect tree, every grand mountain range, every

glorious crystal clear lake, and so on. And they are

connected by our imaginations. By our dreams.”

Uncle Walt paused and took another sip of his tea. He

tapped out his pipe into the wastebasket, pulled some more

tobacco from a pouch in his vest pocket, and slowly

refilled his pipe. The boys remained quiet, waiting as

patiently as they could for him to continue.

“Also, everything you imagine, every dream, every bit

of wonder you come up with when you stare out the window on

a dreary day, each time you do this you draw upon that


world. From dragons and wizards to trolls and goblyns,

giants, and more. It’s the anchor for your imagination,

the palette for an artist’s paints. It’s where magic is

found, where wonder begins, where amazing is built, where

incredible is constructed. It is the origin. It is our

world, only on a far grander scale.”

Daniel’s face was deep in concentration. “So our

world is shadow, and the other world is light?”

Uncle Walt gave a short nod. “Not bad, Daniel. Not

bad. You’re getting there. The Shadowlands---our world---

is more like a dirty mirror, or a mirror in a dark room.

It reflects what is in the other realm, but only poorly.

The other realm is perfect, like seeing without the mirror,

without the shadow, without any interference.”

“And these two worlds are connected by us?”

“You’re more right than you know, my boy. Without

dreams, without imagination, without our desire to

appreciate beauty and to create it, the ties to that world

begin to loose, and the seam between the fabrics of both

realms begins to unravel. More important, the shadowy form

of our realm grows darker, less beautiful. The tree in our

world still has beauty, for the creator created it.

Without artists to appreciate it, though, without a desire


on their part to create, there is no beauty left to

appreciate.

Without beauty, there is nothing left in our world but

the shadows. We’re left with function, but no form. And

no appreciation for form. Function is the end and the

means. And not only is that disastrous for us, but it is

death for the other realm. Because that seam weaves both

together in what some call the Endless Knot. Because once

we cease to appreciate beauty here, once we cease to use

our imaginations here, to create here, the connection will

unravel, and that other world will vanish.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed with concern. “But that’s

exactly what’s happening today, Uncle Walt. I mean, isn’t

it? The tests we take in school are all about math,

science, and stuff, but very little about art, nothing

about the beauty, the form of things. You know, like you

said. Nothing abstract, really.” He thought about it some

more. “None of my friends pretend anymore. I know I don’t.

When we play together, we don’t use our imaginations, we

do… other things, you know what I mean?” Daniel looked

ashamed. “I don’t really even like to read anymore. None

of my friends do.”

Uncle Walt stopped puffing on his pipe, sighed, and

allowed his head to droop just a bit. His voice was heavy


with sadness. “I know, dear boy, I know.” He looked up

and stared hard at Daniel, leaning forward over the desk.

“And that is why you and your sister were summoned. I have

been waiting for you for some time. For a great many

years, actually.”

“What do you mean, summoned? We were dumped here by

Mom. She had no choice.”

Uncle Walt chuckled. “That’s what you think. You and

your sister were meant for great things, Daniel. I am a

keeper of the books. I am a teller of stories, and a

keeper of stories. I hold in these shelves the stories of

imaginations. But most of these volumes have been long

forgotten by the people of this world, the artists who

created them long gone. You and your sister have a gift,

though it has grown cold from disuse. You are the last of

the great Storytellers. You need to learn to use this

gift, for the good of both realms. For the futures of us

all in both worlds, you must.”

#

Thomas had been listening with growing incredulity.

After Uncle Walt paused, Thomas could contain himself no

longer. He stood up from his chair and faced Daniel.

“Yer not actually stupid enough to believe any o’ this

nonsense, are ye? He’s pullin’ yer leg, just like me


Grandpa used ta do. All this talk about art savin’ the

world, it’s just a load o’ trash!”

Daniel looked at Uncle Walt, then back to Thomas. To

be honest, he didn’t really know what to think. It was all

so compelling. “I… I dunno.”

Thomas laughed. “Come on, Danny boy. Use yer common

sense. That can be proven! Use yer eyes, use logic.

Either the two o’ them are playin’ a trick on us, or he’s

completely lost all his marbles. Maybe both. And if he

has lost it, we need to be out lookin’ for yer sister

before it gets dark. Either way, we’re wastin’ our time

here.”

Thomas started to leave. Uncle Walt spoke.

“When was it, Thomas? When was it that you stopped

pretending? When was it, poor boy, that you lost your

imagination?”

Thomas shook his head and stormed out. “You comin’,

Danny?” he shouted over his shoulder as he retreated.

Daniel stood up from his chair to follow. He looked

at his uncle for a long moment, then turned to leave.

Uncle Walt called after him, his voice gentle and full of

compassion. “Daniel, don’t let that lad’s bitterness, his

pragmatism blind you. You must believe. Open your heart.”


Daniel followed Thomas out, leaving Uncle Walt alone

in the library. The old man sighed. “I’m so sorry,

Thomas. I had no idea you were so far gone…”


This land is far worse than I imagined. Now that I’m

here, it is clear to me… we are unprepared.



EIGHT

WHAT HAPPENED

Sarah rounded the cairn, chasing after the beautiful,

multi-colored faerie that was beckoning her to follow. Her

brother had only seen only a dragonfly. The flood of

memories from all her childhood stories filled her mind,

leaving no room to think about dragonflies. She was back

in her imagination, a princess in a magical forest talking

with faeries, only now it was real!

The faerie looked even more beautiful than she

remembered from the stories she’d dreamed up as a child,

more magical. She had four paper-thin translucent wings

and wore a shimmering cloth of silver; like spider webs wet

with dew, it sparkled in the sunlight. She had long, white


hair that also glowed, and a voice that rang like tiny

bells as she spoke almost in a song.

“Come with me, highly favored among the Fair Folk!

Follow, and fulfill your destiny!”

“Wait!” Sarah exclaimed. “I’m coming!”

She left Thomas and Daniel behind and ran around the

cairn, following the flying sprite. Suddenly she heard a

sound, like wind whistling through a tunnel, and then all

she knew was blackness. She was still running, or so she

thought, even though it was dark. The faerie voice was

guiding her.

“Follow, child, teller of stories, gifted

Otherworlder, lady of the Kirk returned to us, and princess

among bards. Come and walk once again in the land of

Albáin!”

The phrases and names the little sprite used were

strange and otherworldly, but sounded so wonderful and

inviting. Sarah felt a strange tugging sensation in her

stomach. She stumbled forward---at least, she thought it

was forward---and then she saw light ahead. A final step

and she was falling, falling, head over feet. She hit the

ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of her.

“Oof!” Though the earth was soft and felt of deep

grass, it still hurt. The world had suddenly grown so


incredibly bright she had to squint her eyes, and even

then, tears flowed and she couldn’t stop them.

“Oh my goodness!”

She was at the edge of the woods, but not the woods

next to Uncle Walt’s house. These woods were far larger

and of a lush green color. She couldn’t bear to look up at

the sky; it was far too bright. She looked for her uncle’s

house, but saw only rolling hills of such a shade of green

as she’d never known before. And the flowers! The air was

full of scents more fragrant than the most expensive

perfumes at department stores, and far more pleasant. The

air itself was remarkable. Crystal clear.

More than anything else, she noted the silence. It

was truly quiet. A breeze blew; she could feel its gentle

kisses on her face. But that was almost loud against the

backdrop of pure silence. No airplanes, heaters, cars, or

any other hints of man’s progress. If there had been any

doubt before, Sarah was sure now: She was a long way from

home.

The faerie flew into the massive forest with a simple

wave goodbye. Sarah stood up and dusted herself off.

Though in a strange land, she wasn’t at all frightened.

Actually, she was quiet excited. She only wished Daniel

was there to share in the adventure. She wondered, for


just a few seconds, what he was doing right then. The

thought passed, and she strode confidently into the forest,

curious at what lay ahead.

#

“Yer uncle is a bit off-center, Danny,” Thomas stated

as soon as they were outside again. Daniel remained

silent, deep in thought. The two boys stepped briskly

around the west side of the house and towards the old

woods, returning to the circle of trees where they had last

seen Sarah.

“He’s eccentric, I’ll admit that much,” Daniel

confided. “But I don’t think he’s really crazy.”

“Ye’ve got to be kiddin’ me!” Thomas exclaimed as they

neared the circle of trees. "He’s as fruity as a nutcake!

No offense meant, Danny boy, but we’d be better off

handlin’ this ourselves.”

Daniel stepped into the circle and approached the

cairn. This time as he entered the perimeter of the circle

of trees, the wind didn’t pick up at all. He wondered

about that for a second, then his mind pushed it aside. He

began searching the grass, hoping to see a sign of his

sister. Thomas circled the cairn, looking for any clue

they might have missed. Daniel glanced up at the trees,


thinking he might catch a glimpse of the dragonfly from

earlier. Something. Anything.

There was nothing to be seen. Just the pile of

stones, the leafless white trees, and the two of them. He

stepped to the cairn and placed his hand on the stones;

they were cold. Thomas sighed behind him.

“Perhaps we should be lookin’ in the forest?”

Daniel looked over his shoulder toward the road that

headed straight for the forest and stopped right at the

edge. That was the last place he wanted to go, but it was

the next logical place to look for Sarah. He swallowed

hard, and nodded. “Okay.”

The two left the circle and crossed the lawn. The

road was made up of flat stones and dirt, and looked as old

as the sundial, the cairn, and pretty much everything else

they’d seen up to this point. As Daniel neared the road,

the wind began to pick up again. He took his first steps

on the road hesitantly, Thomas traipsing right by him.

“What are ye waiting for, an invitation? Let’s go.”

Daniel looked up at the forest looming ahead of them.

He wasn’t nearly as certain now that Sarah might be in

there. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he

was convinced she wasn’t. Maybe he was just afraid of

those woods, maybe he was just trying to tell himself she


wasn’t there, perhaps Uncle Walt really wasn’t all that

crazy, and she was actually in some fantasy land having a

great time. For whatever reason, Daniel stopped on the

road, about a dozen paces from the edge of the wood. His

mind raced, thoughts and fears flooding his head with

terrible imaginings of what might come flying out of that

dark wood. His pulse quickened, sweat beaded on his brow.

That’s when he heard it.

It froze him to his spot and made his blood run cold.

The sound sent chills down his already nervous, overly-

chilled spine. It was a sound he had only ever imagined in

his worst fears, his darkest dreams. The screech howled

deep, throaty, and loud. Almost prehistoric, guttural.

Like a thousand screams being dragged through gravel in a

deep, dark cave. Daniel couldn’t turn to look, though the

sound came from very close behind him.

The shadow began to fall across the ground around him.

Already enormous, it grew larger by the second, bearing

down on him. If he didn’t move soon, it would have him.

But he couldn’t move, didn’t dare look. It screamed again.

Closer now. Heat surrounded him, evaporating the sweat on

his brow, the sulfurous breath now near enough to burn his

eyes. The shadow was immense.


Thomas turned at that moment and saw Daniel frozen

still. “Oi, what’s the matter with you? You look like

you’ve seen a ghost!”

Thomas’ voice snapped him out of his trance. Daniel

found his feet again and ran straight for Thomas,

screaming.

“Run! Run you idiot!” Daniel yelled.

Thomas looked at his friend half-smiling, his head

cocked to one side, but remained where he was. Daniel

looked over his shoulder, right into bright red eyes. It

was still coming. Right on top of him. The biggest,

loudest, most frightening creature he’d ever imagined in

all his days.

A dragon.


Strife, lawlessness, vices of every kind. This world

is in chaos. I fear for the future of Albáin. The hope I

have clung to for so long, the prophecy that has become the

cornerstone of my crusade… So far I have seen no sign of

them.



NINE

DRAGON

Thomas watched as Daniel ran pell-mell toward him,

nearly stumbling over his own feet.

“Run, Thomas, run!” Daniel almost tripped again.

“What for?” Thomas asked. “What’s the matter with

ye?”

“Can’t you see it?” Daniel screamed. “It’s right on

top of us!”

“See what? Yer beginning to scare me, Danny.”

Daniel passed him. Thomas still hadn’t moved. “Good.

Run!”


At the last second, as Daniel dove for cover in the

woods, the dragon pulled up, clipping the tops of the trees

with its enormous wings, a wingspan so immense it defied

logic. It flew straight up and banked into a wide turn.

The beast was coming around for another pass.

“Hurry up, it’s coming back!” Daniel’s terror

overtook him and his voice cracked. He heard the monstrous

screech and looked up at the sky. The dragon was

magnificent and horrible. Its muscular body gleamed a

deep copper color tinged with red. Heavy scales covered

every inch of its enormous frame. It wore four massive

horns protruding from its head like a crown. A long snout

with at least two or three rows of teeth snapped and

gnashed as it flew overhead. Several longer teeth hung

down like fangs, good for tearing into its meaty dinners.

It had long, spindly yet muscled forelegs, and

attached to those were wings much like a bat. The wings

were wide and membranous, attached to the body at the base

of the hips as well. The wings were also thin; the light

of the sun shone through them, making them glow. Its

massive hind legs were extremely muscled and had four huge

talons in the front, and a fifth high on the back of the

leg. It looked in flight like a bird of prey, and right

now it was moving in for the kill.


As it dropped from the sky toward the two of them, it

opened its large talons, reaching out with its hind legs to

catch its prey, the long, scaled tail held out straight

behind it for balance. The tip of its tail was covered in

sharp spikes, good for striking any creature that dared to

attack it.

Daniel watched in horror as the great dragon swooped

down, claws reaching for his friend. He got to his feet

and raced for Thomas.

“I said get down!” He tackled the bewildered boy, the

dragon's talons clicking together as they grasped the air

where Thomas had just been standing. The wind whipped over

Daniel’s head as the great wings beat the air to climb back

up into the sky to try again.

“What in blazes are ya doin’?” Thomas asked. “Are ye

mad?”

Daniel was incredulous. “I just saved your life.”

“From what, ya crazy fool?” Thomas asked as he

inspected a bloody elbow. “I think the only thing I need

savin’ from is yer bloody family!”

Daniel shook his head in frustration. “So you don’t

see that thing flying around up there? You don’t hear it?”


Thomas looked where Daniel was pointing. “I see a

big, black raven, Danny boy. That’s it. That, and a

bloody lunatic.”

Daniel stood up again, watching the dragon circle for

a third time. “What I wouldn’t give for a sword and shield

right about now.”

A sound like metal clanging against stone came from

the cairn. A broadsword, a shield dangling from the hilt,

lay embedded in the rock. Daniel didn’t question it, but

simply raced for it.

“Oi, where ya goin’ now?” Thomas asked.

Daniel stumbled, going down hard. The dragon swept a

wide arc and began its descent. Daniel rolled, scrambled

to his feet, and quickly reached the cairn. He grabbed the

sword and yanked. The blade slowly began to give, and with

a gritty, grating sound the weapon came free. He took the

shield and slid his arm through the straps. They felt

familiar. He gripped the sword tight and faced the road,

the dragon headed once again for Thomas.

“Hey!” Daniel brandished the sword. “Hey, over here.

Yeah, over here, come on. Come after me, you big overgrown

lizard!”

The dragon turned and glared at Daniel, its eyes now

glowing scarlet. A deep rumble came from its throat, a


hiss leaked from its mouth, as well as a wisp of smoke. It

changed course, preparing to attack. Well, that worked,

but now what? Daniel ran forward. As the dragon dropped,

Daniel widened his stance and set himself, holding his

shield tightly. He readied his sword.

“Come on!”

Thomas stared at Daniel, eyes wide. “I don’t know

who’s nuttier, Danny: you or yer uncle!”

The dragon spread its talons. Daniel ducked, and one

of the claws struck the shield, knocking Daniel sideways,

turning him. He recovered and swiped with the sword,

catching the dragon’s underbelly, sending sparks flying in

every direction. The dragon roared in fury. Daniel

grunted with the impact, but stayed on his feet. He spun

around, watching the dragon turn for another pass. Daniel

ran to the road.

Thomas continued to watch Daniel, who was clearly out

of his mind. He slowly backed a few paces away. Daniel

shouted to him. “Thomas, let’s go, before he gets back.”

Thomas shook his head, his own anxieties rising.

“You’ve lost it, boyo. I’m not goin’ in there with you.”

Daniel couldn’t leave without Thomas. He leaped

forward, grabbed the boy by the lapels, and tossed him

bodily into the woods like a sack of potatoes.


“Watch it!” Thomas cried, picking himself up from the

brambles.

Daniel turned to face the dragon again. He stepped

forward, holding the sword high in challenge. The dragon

drew its long neck back, pulled up in mid-flight, and took

a deep breath, chest expanding. Daniel crouched behind the

shield as the flames blasted him, the heat overwhelming

him, the blaze knocking him off his feet. As the fires

abated, he stood and saw the dragon coming for him again.

Daniel turned and ran for the forest, heading straight for

Thomas.

As he reached the edge of the forest, Daniel heard a

bizarre popping, cracking noise, followed by the sound of

wind whistling through a tunnel. He felt like a square peg

being forced through a very small round hole. The blood

rushed to his head as if he were hanging upside down. A

powerful wind whipped at his clothes. Everything went

dark.

He stumbled forward. No light. No sound. He was

disoriented. All he knew for sure was that Thomas and the

woods that he’d just been running for were both gone.

#

Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes. One second Daniel

had been running straight for him, the next second he was


gone! Thomas freed himself from the thicket and ran out of

the woods.

“Daniel? Danny boy? Oi! Where are ya? Danny!”

But no Daniel. Thomas scratched his head. He refused

to believe any of the nonsense old Walt had been spouting

earlier. Thomas was practical. He had his head on

straight. He stepped farther out into the sunlight, looked

over to the cairn. But Daniel was gone.

“There has to be a reasonable explanation fer this…”

he mused aloud. Silence. “You hear me? I don’t believe

any of it!”

The dragon didn’t follow Daniel when he disappeared.

Thomas had no idea that the winged reptile was swooping

down on him at that very moment. He was easy prey. The

talons sank into his shoulders, jerking him off his feet.

Thomas screamed and passed out. The last thing he

remembered as he blacked out was the ground falling away

from him and the sensation of flying high above the woods.

Thomas had no idea that he, like Daniel, had just vanished

from Uncle Walt’s estate without a trace.


These people have deep passions. They have hopes,

dreams, a longing for more. But their eyes, their minds

are blind…



TEN

FIRST ENCOUNTER

Sarah journeyed deeper into the woods, admiring the

beauty surrounding her, gasping and exclaiming every few

paces as each new discovery overtook her senses. Trees so

tall, so wide, so majestic as to defy description. Flowers

of every shape, kind, and color, many of which she’d never

seen before. Roses so exquisite that she wanted to weep

for joy. Scents, rich and lovely, mingled strangely with

the musky odor of the tree bark surrounding her. It was so

intoxicating it made her dizzy.

Sarah walked for how long, she had no idea. Time

seemed to stand still. After a while she realized she

hadn’t heard any animals. Their absence suddenly became


conspicuous, and she began to long for them, for company of

any sort. Chirping over her head at that very moment

filled her heart like none of the rest of the scenery had.

She looked up and saw the most brilliant bright blue bird

she’d ever seen. He was chirping and warbling in a frenzy.

“Well hello there, little bird!” she exclaimed. “I’m

glad to see you. Where are your friends?” The bird

responded with frenetic chirping, ruffled his feathers,

flapped his wings, and flew past several trees. He landed

about twenty paces ahead of her. Instinctively, she

followed him. “Don’t go too fast, I won’t be able to keep

up.” The bird flew from tree to tree, leading her ever

deeper into the great forest.

#

Sarah followed the bird along a winding path. When

the forest thickened, the bird flew low and led her down

narrow paths. They arrived at a small clearing next to a

babbling brook. Through the clear water Sarah saw fish

darting around in the swift current, silver scales flashing

in the sun. Several large stones stood in the center of

the clearing near two large sections of wall made of stone

with a bit of straw roof still attached to them. Some old

wood, and other remains of what appeared to be a very old

structure were scattered all over the clearing. Had it


been a house, a fort, or something else? It was quite old,

and mostly disintegrated, overtaken by the wild wood around

it. Moss and vines grew everywhere. She sat on an old

dead tree stump in front of the ruins. The bird flew away.

Was she supposed to stay here, alone?

A twig snapped. She jumped up, turned, and spotted

something moving in the shadows where the two walls met.

“Hello?” She felt uneasy for the first time since

entering this strange new world. “Who’s there?”

A male voice came from the shadows. “Kéi ów emo?”

Sarah didn’t understand. “Hello? I can’t see you.”

She backed away from the shadows.

The voice spoke again. “Kéi? Kéi ów emo?” He stepped

into the light.

The figure that emerged wore a long, crimson, hooded

cloak pinned in the front with a simple but ornate silver

brooch. Sarah could see, just barely, a short, double-

edged sword attached to a belt at his hip. But she was far

more concerned with the long, sturdy staff carved of dark

wood he was holding in his right hand. The stranger held

it with confidence. She somehow knew that if he wanted to,

he could use it well as a weapon. She couldn’t see his

face; the hood concealed it in shadow.


Sarah smiled nervously. “I’m sorry, I don’t

understand you.”

The mysterious man pulled back his hood to reveal a

handsome, angular face. He was older than Sarah, but still

young, perhaps in his mid twenties. His face looked as if

it had smiled often, but also looked wise beyond his years.

His eyes, pale green, gazed at her with observant

intensity. His hair was a light sandy brown, with streaks

of white already appearing at the temples, and a single

white streak at the part in the front. It hung down

shoulder length, but appeared to have a bit more tied back

behind his head. He had no beard or mustache; his whole

face was clean-shaven. His chest was covered with a simple

white tunic, cinched at the waist with a belt, which was

really nothing more than a big strap of leather tied off to

the side. He was wearing wide-legged, comfortable looking

pants that were a bright blue color, and soft leather

buskins, or half boots.

The stranger’s eyes startled Sarah; they seemed to see

right through her, and made her rather uncomfortable. At a

little less than six feet in height, he was a little taller

than she, though she was tall for her age. The stranger

stepped forward and the cloak parted, revealing arms that

were well muscled and strong, though lean. He appeared to


be thinking very hard for a bit. Then a smile turned up

the left side of his mouth, and he spoke to her again.

“Wh-who… Who are… you?” he asked haltingly in English.

Sarah flinched, taking another step back, her eyes

wide. He smiled wide then, nodding, knowing he must have

gotten the words right. His smile belied his intense

stare, and Sarah relaxed a bit. He asked again, more

confidently, gesturing toward her with his left hand. “Who

are you?”

Sarah responded, pointing at her chest. “I’m Sarah.”

The young man inclined his head in a small bow. “I…

greet you, Sarah. I am Derwydd.” He paused again,

thinking. “I am…” He concentrated. “Cyfarwydd…?”

Sarah shook her head, not understanding. He frowned, then

continued. “I am… yes, apprentice. Apprentice to

Perwaldd, Ollathir of Albáin.”

Sarah took a quick step forward, and Derwydd

instinctively brought his staff to bear. She held up her

hands. “Sorry. Did you say Perwaldd?”

He frowned, thinking again. She knew he was trying to

figure out what to say. “Yes. Perwaldd. He is my, ah…

teacher.”

Sarah nodded. “He doesn’t talk much does he? I have

his diary. It’s blank.”


The man shook his head. “I do not understand you.”

Sarah shook her head. “Never mind. How did I get

here? Is this Albáin?”

“Yes, Albáin.” He thought again for a moment before

speaking. “You crossed the Duir. The gate. You are from

the Shadowlands.”

It was Sarah’s turn to frown. “I don’t understand.

Shadowlands?”

“The Outland. You crossed the gate, and came here.”

“The gate…” Sarah thought back to the tugging

sensation, the windy tunnel sound, everything. “Okay, I

think I understand. I came here through a gate?”

Derwydd nodded, gesturing with his staff. “Sarah is

from the Shadowlands. Perwaldd sent you.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know

Perwaldd. He did not send me. I came here by accident.”

Derwydd smiled. “Perwaldd sent you. You are to learn

our ways.”

“How do you know English?” Sarah asked.

“I do not understand.”

“How do you know how to speak with me?”

“Perwaldd taught me the words of the Shadowlands, to

prepare me for you. It has been many years since I… since

I practice them. Perwaldd spoke often with gate-crossers


in years past. He is the last of the old ones. He

followed Myrddin. Perwaldd is Ollathir.”

“Ollathir?”

“That means… Our Father. The father of all bards.”

“You’re a bard?”

“Yes.” Derwydd sighed and grew sad. “I have not seen

him for many years. I do not know what came of Perwaldd

after he made the crossing. He said he would send word.”

His face brightened. “But you crossed. Perwaldd

succeeded!” He looked around. “Where is the other?

Perhaps he found only one.”

Sarah frowned. “I really don’t understand what you’re

talking about.”

The bard had already turned and headed back toward the

ruins from which he’d emerged. He started looking around,

then turned and opened his arms wide.

“It is good that you came here to us, Sarah. This has

always been a holy place. I have been meaning to build a

Kirk here for many days, and begin again the Mabinog.”

“Mabinog?”

Derwydd smiled. “Yes. Place of learning.”

“Like a school.”

“I do not know this word. But if it is a place of

learning, then yes.”


Sarah looked around. “Well… Do you have any

students?”

“Yes,” the bard smiled proudly. “You.”


I fear I may be wasting precious time. I know I’m

needed on the other side. But I can feel it. They’re

growing near…



ELEVEN

IN THE OTHERWORLD

The darkness suffocated him, terrified him. His heart

raced. Daniel lunged forward and saw light ahead. He fled

for it, let out a yell as he fell towards the light. Then

he was sitting on his rump in the grass, his eyes burning.

He closed them against the sting of tears.

“Ow!” he exclaimed. “Wow, it’s bright!” He stood

up, wiping at his eyes, squinting against the overwhelming

brightness all around him.

The first thing he noticed---it was hard not to---was

that the forest he’d been running toward for safety from

the dragon was gone. He turned and saw a large cairn, just

behind him near the edge of a ravine. A small river snaked


through the ravine. Massive, misty mountains loomed

against the far-off horizon. He knew that was where the

river originated. Downstream the hills dropped into a

lowland valley filled with trees that spread off to his

left, some small hills, and… houses! He saw thatched

roofs, smoke plumes, and at the center, an open area with a

large structure, like a common meeting room. And past the

small village, on the other side of the valley filled with

trees, rose a rocky hill. And on that hill sat an enormous

castle. Daniel stood transfixed.

He had never seen a castle before, but what was in his

imagination fell terribly short. Parapets rose high into

the sky, reaching up towards the sun; golden shields hung

down from the sides of the battlements, glinting and

gleaming in the sunlight. The castle rested on top of an

outcropping of black rock, sturdy and stalwart, watching

over the citizens of the village below with surety and

strength. It took his breath away.

Daniel knew instantly where he was. He had somehow

crossed over to the other world Uncle Walt spoke about,

Albáin, the world more real than the one he lived in. What

his uncle had been telling him only hours before was true!

How had this happened? He mulled it over. His fear

of those woods brought back memories of his childhood


fears, brought back some of the stories he used to make up

years ago, like fighting off dragons. And then that dragon

had appeared. But how? He’d thought of things like that

before, but nothing strange had ever happened, right?

Something must have triggered the switch. But what?

He looked back at the cairn, his mind racing. Could

the cairn be a doorway? A gate between Albáin and the

Shadowlands? Or maybe the forest? He would invest more

time and thought into that question later. He needed to

find his sister, if she was here, too. But for now, he was

eager to go exploring. And he would start with the little

village in the valley below.

#

He entered the trees that surrounded the village.

They were enormous, especially compared with what Daniel

was used to seeing in his own world. They stood tall,

proud, and thick with leaves. There were plants, flowers,

thickets, and shrubs of every color, size, and shape as

well. A stone and dirt path wove its way through the mass

of foliage to the village ahead. Following the path, a

great sense of excitement flooded him. He had no idea what

to expect, or who would greet him.

As he stepped from the trees into the village, sights

and smells overwhelmed his senses. From several huts came


the aroma of baking bread, which would account for the

smoke he’d seen. Children ran here and there, playing and

laughing together. Women wearing colorful, flowing dresses

bustled about, some weaving, some kneading bread, others

bent over crops at the edge of the village, all smiling,

some singing, many laughing. And they looked… human. But

somehow more. They shone with an inner light. They were

almost glowing. And though the women were all slight, they

were visibly strong and very capable. Many of the women

wore bands of bronze, gold, or silver on their upper arms.

Others wore bands around their necks, some with jewels,

others simple and plain, but all deftly crafted and

lovingly made. Everything about this village felt

comfortable, and smelled of home and safety.

One of the women, tall and regal with long red hair

tied in a braid, looked up from her work and saw Daniel.

She spoke loudly, and several other women stopped their

work, looked at her, and followed her gaze. All activity

ceased, and Daniel felt instantly uncomfortable. The woman

stepped tentatively forward a few paces and spoke, loud and

stern, in a strange tongue. It sounded like a challenge.

Daniel took a step back. He shook his head. “I don’t

understand you.” He held up his hands, and only then

realized he was still holding the sword and shield he’d


used to battle the dragon. He dropped them, and some of

the women stepped back several paces. The red-haired

woman, emboldened, stepped forward again, and spoke to

Daniel once more in her strange tongue, this time, with

less edge to her voice.

Daniel shook his head again. “I’m sorry, I still

don’t understand.”

She sighed, and put her hands on her hips. She looked

at the women around her and spoke to them quickly. They

responded, and she peered at Daniel again. She looked him

up and down. She gestured to him, pointing to him while

talking to the ladies. He could only guess, but it

appeared she was explaining something to them about his

appearance. He held his hands up in surrender.

“I come in peace,” he tried. “Do you understand?

Peace?” They stared at him blankly. He thought a moment

and tried again. “Is this…” he gestured to the village,

the trees, the sky. “Albáin?”

The women began to mutter and murmur all at once. The

woman with red hair smiled. “Albáin,” she said.

Daniel nodded. “Yes, that’s right, Albáin! I am

not…” he shook his head, “from Albáin.” He pointed back

through the woods towards the cairn on the plain behind


him. “I came from…” he paused to recall the term Uncle

Walt had used before, “From the Shadowlands.”

Several women shrieked and scrambled backward, others

grabbed their children and ran for their homes. The woman

who’d been speaking to him, however, stood her ground. She

had a stern expression on her face. She nodded curtly.

She held out her hand, gesturing for him to follow her.

Daniel gulped, but decided he’d better go where he was led.

There was no turning back now.

#

“Beljá?”

Derwydd smiled and nodded, pleased that she’d gotten

the word correct. “Good,” he said in his own tongue.

“Very good. And what kind of tree is it?”

Sarah thought long and hard. “Luisch?”

Derwydd applauded her. “Excellent, my young pupil!

And what can you tell me about Rowan?”

Sarah started to speak, but lapsed into English.

Derwydd clucked his tongue and shook his head, refusing to

hear it unless she spoke the ancient language he’d been

teaching her exhaustively for the last three days. She

sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes.

They’d been at it since sunup, riding since shortly

after breakfast through the dense wood. Three days of


steady language teaching, three days of steady riding on

horseback. Fortunately for Sarah, when Derwydd had gone

exploring in the forest the day they met, he brought two

horses with him, one to ride and one loaded with supplies.

Now they were headed back to his master’s castle. He

called it Caer Eirian, the Castle of Silver. It was one of

three castles in this land, he had told her. He and his

master, Perwaldd, served the high king, or Aird Righ,

Brenin Mawr, which meant great king.

Sarah tried again, this time, in her halting attempts

at Albáin’s native tongue. “Rowan… Luisch, is one of the

sacred nine. It is also known by the bards as the Tree of

Life; it was there in the beginning when the Ever Living

One, the Dagda, the Good God, poured out the great water of

the Danu and up grew the Bíle, which we do not often speak,

but instead say Duir, which means door, the word we say for

the great and mighty Oak. That tree was the tree of

knowledge. These two were with the Dagda in the beginning,

before the day of sadness, when the Duir and the Luisch

grew side by side in the great valley.”

Derwydd smiled and nodded again. “Show me the Duir.”

Sarah looked around and saw a great, mighty oak up

ahead and pointed to it. “There!” she exclaimed proudly.

“The Duir Uid.”


Derwydd halted his horse. “Duir Uid?” He turned to

face her, a puzzled expression on his face. “How

interesting. Door of knowledge?”

Sarah shrugged. “I was thinking tree of knowledge,

and I guess I just… made a mistake.”

Derwydd smiled. “Your mistake has wisdom, child.

Duir Uid is right to say. That is a tradition that goes

back many generations. Those who sat at the River Danu’s

edge and sought the great Dagda’s wisdom were known by this

word. It is where you in your world get the word druid.

Those who chose to follow His ways, not the ways of the

children of sorrow, were known as Children of Uid, children

of wisdom or knowledge. They had His spirit in them, to

guide them, and they led many people out of darkness.

Through the door, or Duir, if you will. Alas, in our

world, there are few of us left.”

“Us?”

“Bards. Those that serve the Dagda and His son Lleu,

learn their wisdom, and tell their story. That is part of

our training. Though usually we start with just the

language and the words and the meanings of words, and

usually much younger than you. But you are a fast learner.

I see now that this is all part of the Dagda’s great plan.


You must learn the Dagda’s ways. You are a Storyteller,

and you are a seeker of His wisdom, not your own.”

He turned his horse to face her squarely, and shifted

his seat in the saddle to get more comfortable. “We will

begin now. Rowan, Sarah, means life. Using that word,

while wielding Rowan, can give you that power in the great

Dagda’s name. It also means fire, and can be used for that

as well. It is a great responsibility, dear one. And

dangerous. Do you understand this concept?”

Sarah thought for a moment. “I think so…” She turned

and looked at another tree, one next to her. “Birch,

Beithe, means light.” She stood up in the saddle and

reached for a branch, breaking it off gently. She held it

in her hands and concentrated on it. “Beithe!” she

commanded. The branch suddenly erupted in a shaft of light

that extended at least a hundred yards. Her horse shied

and whinnied. “Whoa!” she exclaimed, more out of surprise

than to calm the horse.

Derwydd’s eyes grew wide. “This is surprising, Sarah.

You do learn fast. I was not able to do this until I was

nearly your age, and I had been in training for at least

seven seasons! Well done! Well done, indeed. Excellent

work. Excellent.”


Sarah grinned. She’d been good in school, but had

never been recognized for her excellence except by her

mother, who was always so encouraging to both her and

Daniel, and praised them often for their hard work. But

from a teacher? It was a new experience for her. Of

course, it helped that the man complimenting her was

certainly attractive. She blushed.

“I think that shall be your name,” said Derwydd.

“Saraid.”

“Saraid,” she repeated. It was the word in the

ancient tongue of Albáin for excellent. “I like that.”

Derwydd spoke a quiet word to his horse, and began

riding again. “Come Saraid, most excellent pupil, the

castle awaits!”

Her horse followed, giving little heed to her still

fairly poor riding skills. She just held on, hoping not to

fall.


These people have a sense that there’s something else,

something just out of reach. Yet they refuse to turn the

corner and explore, think they don’t have the time. How

true. Their time is indeed running out.



TWELVE

ARTHFAEL

Daniel waited in the great hall at the center of the

village for what felt like hours. The woman with the red

hair stood outside, as if to stand guard over him. Every

now and then she would glance in the window to check on

him. He smiled and waved so as not to appear in any way

hostile, but he was growing impatient.

When they first put him in the expansive structure,

he’d explored it thoroughly. There wasn’t much to it. It

was a single room hewn of wood. It almost seemed to be

made of a single piece of wood, the craftsmanship was so

perfect. The pieces were laid together so exactly there


were no visible seams unless one truly looked hard. And

the architecture was such that the massive round room

needed no support beams in the center, only columns around

the walls and buttresses arcing the ceiling. Several round

windows and a circular opening in the top provided light.

It was an impressive building.

After exploring the hall, he had taken to pacing. But

whenever the woman looked in that window, he made sure to

stop and look as calm and comfortable as he could. He

didn’t really understand how a boy his age could be viewed

as a credible threat, but he didn’t want to take any

chances, especially with her. She was clearly quite a

formidable opponent.

A commotion outside brought Daniel to his feet and up

to the window. The women began shouting and hollering, the

children began hooting and whooping, and a loud cheer arose

throughout the village. As he watched from the window, the

men of the village filed in, some on horseback, most on

foot, and all of them armed. Most carried swords, shields,

spears, and longstaffs; others sported clubs and even a few

battle-axes. The men were extremely large and well

muscled, easily twice the size of Daniel's phys-ed coach

back home. None of the impressive warriors appeared to be

very old. Come to think of it, Daniel realized he hadn’t


seen any elder citizens at all in the village. The young

boys who were in the assembly of warriors stood tall

alongside their fathers, many of them new to battle, but

all of them with their heads held high. Daniel was

impressed; most of the boys, though physically stronger

than he, were actually younger.

Among the gathered warriors rode a man on a white

steed. But to call him a mere man was to do him an

injustice. Daniel was in awe. It was clear this man was

royalty, and not just because of the great golden crown

atop his mane of flowing chestnut hair. He cast an

imposing figure. His chest spread wide, his arms were the

size of small trees. Around both arms wound several bands

of silver and gold, and a golden band wrapped about his

neck. His great flowing purple cloak was pinned at his

heart with a golden bejeweled brooch of exquisite

craftsmanship. He had a broad sword clasped to his side,

the great golden hilt studded with rubies the size of

Daniel's fists. The king’s shield, strapped to his saddle,

was made of gleaming silver inlaid with gold. Emblazoned

on the center was the crest of a red dragon. This powerful

image, these daring colors, Daniel decided, must be the

king’s royal standard, for it was also displayed on several

banners held high by warriors on horses riding on either


side of him. Daniel shook his head in amazement. Now this

was a king!

Just behind him on another white horse sat another

man, equally regal, slightly younger, with black hair, a

cloak of blue, brooch and sword of silver, and his shield

silver without gold. Daniel assumed this man must be the

king’s son.

These warriors were apparently riding through on their

way to the castle just above the village. These were the

townspeople the king watched over and protected with his

swift, sure arm of justice and peace.

These were also the people Daniel had chosen to appear

before uninvited. These were the people pointing him out

to the great king at that very moment, motioning towards

the great hall, to where he stood at the window. The great

warlord’s eyes fell on Daniel with a stern gaze. Daniel

couldn’t look away from those eyes; the authority in them,

the confidence they contained rooted his feet where he

stood. He couldn’t move.

The king, without breaking his gaze, leaned over

slightly in his horse and spoke quietly to the warrior to

his right. The warrior dismounted and walked to the double

doors of the hall, opened them, and beckoned for Daniel to

come outside. It wasn’t aggressive, but it was stern


nonetheless. Daniel moved hesitantly, convinced these were

his last seconds alive.

He stepped out into the light, the sun catching on the

shields in front of him, flashing in his eyes and making

him squint. The king said something to his men, who

lowered their shields so Daniel could see. The great

leader allowed a slight smile and nodded. He slowly

dismounted, the women from the village standing around him

taking several steps back and bowing low. Daniel did the

same. The massive king’s shadow fell over him, but Daniel

remained bowed. The king spoke, his voice deep and

resonant. Daniel ventured a glance up, and saw the king

looking down at him expectantly. Daniel looked around, and

everyone else appeared to be waiting as well for Daniel’s

response to the king’s question.

“I’m…I’m sorry, y-your Majesty,” Daniel stammered. “I

don’t understand you.”

Several of the warriors began talking, the prince

chief among them. The king spoke a single word.

“Tauso!”

They all fell silent. The king never took his gaze

from Daniel’s face. He addressed Daniel again, more

slowly.


Daniel shook his head, and held his palms out. “I do

not understand.” He offered his hands to the king.

“You’re from Albáin,” Daniel began, remembering how much

trouble this got him in last time but trying again anyway.

Then he pointed his hands back at himself. “I don’t

understand you, because I come from the Shadowlands.”

The king stood straight, his eyebrow raised. “Shadow?

Ów emo Shadow?” He looked Daniel up and down. “Hmm.” The

king paused, then reached out his hand and spoke quickly,

never breaking eye contact with Daniel. The woman with the

red hair disappeared, then after a brief wait returned

holding Daniel’s sword and shield, which she handed to the

king. Daniel didn’t like where this was going.

“Katu?” the king asked. He swung the sword and held

up the shield, gesturing with them as if in mock combat.

“Katu?”

Daniel considered for a moment. He thought maybe the

king was asking if he was a warrior, but he couldn’t be

certain. Maybe he could show them. He asked for the sword

by holding out his hand.

“May I?”

Several warriors stepped forward. The king held up

the sword to hold them off. He turned the weapon deftly in

his hand and handed it to Daniel, blade down. Daniel took


the heavy sword carefully and began to draw in the dirt

with the blade. Several warriors behind the king gasped.

Daniel looked up; the king had taken several steps back.

The warriors spoke two words over and over.

“Duir Uid! Duir Uid!”

The king shook his head, spoke to them, and they fell

silent. He motioned for Daniel to continue. Daniel drew a

crude picture of a dragon.

“Arach?” the king asked.

Daniel looked at him. “Arach? Dragon?”

The king nodded. “Arach.” He looked at Daniel, then

his sword, considering him dubiously. Daniel realized the

king was wondering if he slew a dragon.

“No,” he shook his head. “I didn’t kill it.” He drew a

stick figure of himself in front of the dragon, making

sounds like someone running in fright, and then drew a line

from the figure pointing to the hall. The woman with red

hair chuckled. “It chased me to Albáin.”

The king thought for a moment, then nodded. He turned

to the warrior he’d sent to retrieve him from the great

hall earlier and spoke quickly to him. The warrior looked

at Daniel, then back to the king, sighed, and nodded. The

king’s voice took on a more stern tone, and the warrior

snapped to attention, speaking quickly and nodding, clearly


reprimanded. He stepped to Daniel’s side. The king turned

to the crowd and spoke loudly for everyone to hear. The

villagers let out a cheer and gathered their things. Some

carried baskets of grain; others loaded carts with barrels

of what Daniel assumed to be drink of some sort or another.

Clearly a celebration was on the agenda. The entire

village followed as the king mounted his horse and rejoined

the band of warriors and resumed their trek towards the

castle.

Without a backward glance, the warrior the king had

summoned to Daniel’s side turned to the stables at the

other end of the village and saddled up another horse. He

brought a brown and white mare to Daniel and offered him

the reins. Daniel stared back at him, eyes wide.

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.” He shook his

head, refusing the offer.

The warrior gave him a stern look and shoved the reins

into his hand. He spoke curtly and gestured to Daniel to

watch as he mounted his horse with ease.

“You want me to do that?” Daniel asked. “You’ve got

to be kidding!”

The warrior stared at him placidly, waiting. Daniel

sighed, put his right foot in the stirrup, and made his

first attempt to mount. And fell backward on his rump.


The warrior did not laugh but stared on in silence. Six

attempts and several bruises later, Daniel sat astride his

horse. The red-haired woman rushed up to the warrior, who

bent low in the saddle. She leaped up and locked her arms

around his neck, kissing him long and deep. She released

him and stepped back, tears welling in her bright eyes.

The warrior set off in the opposite direction from where

everyone else had gone.

“Wait!” Daniel shouted after him. His horse slowly

followed the warrior on its own. “Wait! Aren’t we going

with them? Hello? Hello!”

#

The large warrior immediately began teaching Daniel

the strange language of their world. Daniel started

simple, learning to say his name, and the name of his

massive traveling companion. He was called Arthfael, which

Daniel eventually learned meant "strength of a bear." It

was an appropriate name for one such as he. With powerful

arms and barrel chest, his mane of wild black hair tied in

the back, and deep-set black eyes, Arthfael truly resembled

a bear. Like the other warriors Daniel had seen, he was

clean-shaven. Arthfael towered over the other warriors and

even the king, who himself was tall for one of the people

of Albáin. The king stood well over six foot, probably


close to six foot six, as far as Daniel could tell. This

great bear of a warrior stood closer to seven feet, and was

quite intimidating.

Soon they started on the words for sword, shield,

horse, knife, club, and staff. Daniel caught on that he

was being trained in the warrior’s craft. They rode on,

through sunshine and rain, day after day. Days turned to

weeks. They slept under the stars, they hunted together,

and they became friends. The mentor was proud of his

student’s aptitude, often cuffing him on the arm or

slapping him on the back in approval when Daniel mastered a

new word or caught small game, and often sending him face-

first into the dirt when he did so.

Daniel surprised himself. He knew he was smart, but

he hated language arts classes, despised homework, and

didn’t have much respect for authority, to the frequent

consternation of his mother. How often had he heard the

phrase “apply yourself” before? But now he was learning

one on one and was doing just that. Here he had a purpose,

and a very real need to understand, and he truly wanted to

please his teacher. He excelled in the study of the

language of Albáin. Though not comfortably fluent yet, he

was growing more proficient with each passing day. He also


grew adept at the arrow, taking down small game with

greater ease with each exercise.

Where he found himself grossly lacking in discipline

as well as any semblance of talent was in the art of

warcraft, one-on-one fighting. Every day they sparred

together, every day Arthfael trained him in sword fighting,

spear fighting, and defense; and every day he ended up

bruised, sore, and on his back in the dirt.

“You lack patience, Daniel,” Arthfael told his young

student in the ancient tongue. “And you are still

undisciplined. Do you hear nothing that I teach you? You

act like you listen, you learn the words, yet when we

fight, you throw it all to the wind!” Arthfael chuckled.

“You mustn’t let your emotions best you, Daniel. That will

get you killed.”

“I am sorry, Arthfael. I do not wish to disappoint

you. Perhaps I am not the warrior the king expects me to

become.”

Daniel didn’t want to let the king down. He knew it

was a great honor the king was bestowing upon him by

sending him with Arthfael. Though he was from the

Shadowlands, he was being treated not only as a native of

Albáin, but he was being afforded the finest education,

usually given only to those of noble birth or ranking


family status. The king had sent Daniel and Arthfael to

Inisfáil, another of the great islands in this magical

land, and then from there they would take a ship north to

the legendary Iniscí, or Island of Shadows, the sacred

center of this worlds-realm, where all young warriors must

train in order to be deemed worthy of being called battle-

ready.

Arthfael clucked his tongue. “Brenin Mawr expects you

to be who you are meant to be, young Daniel. Nothing more,

nothing less. And you will be what you will be. Nothing

will stop the Dagda from laying out His plans.”

Daniel sighed. “I do lack patience, Arthfael. I am

tired of landing on my back every day.”

Arthfael laughed. “Then listen to what I tell you,

and that will not happen.” He reached down and picked

Daniel up. “We are finished for today. Rest for a moment,

and then we ride. We will reach the coast by this time

tomorrow.”

“Is it far to Inisfáil?” Daniel asked as he dusted

himself off.

“Not at all. It is a brief boat ride. You can see

the land from Albáin’s shores. Now the Island of Shadows,

that’s much further. Further than the eye can see, deep in

the northern mist.”


“It frightens me… a little,” Daniel confessed.

“It should, my young friend. It is not for the faint

of heart. I still bear many scars from my years there.

But I bear also many triumphs, many memories of great

victory. You will do the same.”

“You have great confidence in me, Arthfael. I pray I

do not let you down.”

“You won’t, Daniel.”

There was a faint small sound. The simple snap of a

twig. Arthfael was on his feet in an instant, his sword in

his hand, eyes and ears on the alert. Daniel also stood,

sword at the ready. Both of them were silent, though

Daniel was certain whoever was out there could hear the

pounding of his heart in his chest.

Arthfael looked around the camp, his eyes settling on

his pack next to his horse. Suddenly he relaxed and

sheathed his sword.

“Weiro, I know it’s you. Give me back my dagger, or

I’ll come in there after it. And when I get my hands on

you…”

A small, grumbly voice came from the direction of the

snapping twig. “No need, Master Arthfael, to finish that

sentence! I was only having a bit of fun. Wanted to see

if the new student had any reflexes yet.”


Out of the dense brush walked half a man. No, a third

of a man, only squat, round, and wrinkly. He had a long

white beard that came well past his belt. Daniel thought

he looked a bit like one of the neighbor’s garden gnomes

back home, if it were able to walk and talk. The little

man wore a coarse tunic of very thick weave, a thick

leather belt with a large metal buckle, baggy pants, and no

shoes. His overlarge feet were covered in curly white

hair. He wore no hat; that was one difference between this

Weiro and the garden gnome. His head was shining bald,

gleaming like a big polished brass doorknob. He held

Arthfael’s dagger by the blade, and flipped it toward

Daniel. It stuck into a bit of tree branch at Daniel’s

feet.

“Greetings, young protégé. I am Weiro, Dwarf of the

Glen. At your service.” He bowed low and his beard

dragged in the grass.

Arthfael chuckled. “Not the kind of service you want,

Daniel. Unless you wish your pockets to be emptied and your

purse a bit lighter. He’s a pickpocket and a thief.”

“I prefer to use the term ‘entrepreneur’ if you don’t

mind. I’m independently employed.”

Arthfael smirked. “Your name is fitting, Weiro.” He

turned to Daniel. “It means crooked. Which is what he


is.” He stepped over and took Weiro’s arm in a warrior’s

grip. “But despite what he protests, he is loyal to our

king, and he has been a good friend to me. Not so crooked

as he would have us believe. But I still sleep with one

eye open whenever we’re together, eh, Weiro?”

Weiro laughed and sat down to join them.

Arthfael offered him some of their rations. “Have you

been following us the whole way, my friend?

“I have. The king gave me a special assignment.”

“In other words, he paid you handsomely.”

Weiro winked. “Indeed.”

Daniel voiced concern. “I do not understand. Why

would the king want you followed, Arthfael? Does he not

trust you?”

Arthfael and Weiro exchanged glances. “Of course he

trusts me, Daniel.”

Daniel nodded. “I see. He does not trust me.”

“It’s not that at all, either, young one,” Arthfael

protested.

Weiro jumped in. “You see, young Daniel, there have

been strange goings on in the deep woods these days.

Things have changed. It has the kings of these lands…

concerned.”

Daniel frowned. “I do not understand.”


Arthfael continued the explanation. “You came at a

very unusual time, Daniel. We’ve been dealing with, well,

strange occurrences in these woods. All is not as it

should be in Albáin.”

Weiro spoke again. “The Knot is unraveling.”

“The Knot?” Daniel asked.

Arthfael frowned, staring intensely at Weiro. “Not

yet, Weiro. He’s not ready.” He faced Daniel again. “It

is enough for you to know that your coming here may not

have been an accident. In fact, it may indeed be part of

the Dagda’s larger plan to deliver us from a great evil

that has entered this land. Things have, as Weiro said,

changed here. We are preparing you as a warrior to help us

set it right. We fear there may be a battle on the

horizon.” The warrior and the dwarf exchanged a meaningful

look. “We will need you, Daniel.”

“A battle? But… I’m just a boy. What can I do?”


Forget dragons. The untamable beast of this realm is

reason. They’re going to progress themselves into

oblivion, and take us with them in the process.



THIRTEEN

CAER EIRIAN

Derwydd led Saraid and the horses to the edge of the

woods and into a clearing. Beyond the clearing ran a wide

river; beyond the river, another small forest area rose up

to a black rocky outcropping. Atop this was the largest

castle Saraid had ever imagined. Directly in front of them

stood a large, sloping bridge. Rails held by mighty posts

bracketed the bridge. Large, heraldic seals with a red

dragon painted on them decorated each post. The long

journey had brought them near their destination, Caer

Eirian, the castle of the high king.

Derwydd dismounted as they reached the clearing, and

Saraid did the same. Just to the right of the bridge,


sloping down to the river’s edge, lay some large rocks.

Derwydd approached them and spoke.

“Oug. Oug, it is Derwydd. May we pass?”

Saraid did a double take. The rocks moved.

Unbelieving, she watched as the boulders rolled up the

riverbank instead of down like a reverse avalanche. The

rocks rolled up like stacks, then stacks of stacks, as if

they were all sitting up. Then the rocks stood up, and

Saraid realized it wasn’t a pile of rocks at all, but one

very large… thing that looked to actually be made of rock.

It had two powerful arms, thick legs, and enormous

feet. The great rock-thing had a head that protruded

forward on an almost non-existent neck. Its kind, patient,

somewhat lazy-lidded eyes were very alert and filled with

curiosity as they came to rest on her. It stepped forward,

the ground shook, and Saraid almost lost her footing.

The rock-thing spoke, its voice deep, but soft and

calm for one so large. “I greet you, Derwydd, in the name

of Brenin Mawr. But who is this with you? You go out as

one, and return as two?”

Derwydd smiled and opened his arms to embrace the

large, stony hand of the great rock-man. “Ah, dear Oug.

You miss nothing. This,” he indicated Saraid, “is my new

apprentice, Saraid. Saraid, this is Oug, of the Mountain


Trolls. He is the keeper of the bridge to Caer Eirian.

And a fine job he does, too!”

“Thank you, Derwydd. You are most kind.” He bowed

low, an avalanche stopped short. He then turned to Saraid.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Saraid. Welcome to the

castle of Brenin Mawr. May you be blessed in your stay.”

He addressed Derwydd. “Of course you may pass, friend.

You need never ask me, you know.”

“I must follow protocol, good friend. Don’t play

favorites, especially these days. You never know what may

try to cross this bridge.”

Oug nodded knowingly. Saraid didn’t understand what

Derwydd just said, but it was not the time to ask.

“Congratulations on the obviously fruitful quest to

find a location for your Mabinog. May this young one be

only one among a great many more pupils!” Oug changed the

subject abruptly, and grew more serious. “The king has

just returned from his journey, Derwydd. He will have much

to discuss with you, I imagine.”

Derwydd nodded as Oug stepped aside, and the young

bard led Saraid and the two horses across the bridge and

along a winding path into the forest beyond.

#


“I’ve never seen a troll before,” Saraid admitted to

Derwydd. “I thought they were all… well, bad.”

Derwydd nodded. “That is a common assumption, Saraid.

There are three kinds of trolls: Mountain Trolls, Forest

Trolls, and Bog Trolls. Bog Trolls and Forest Trolls are

violent, and will do whatever they wish, and are more

likely to serve evil. Mountain Trolls are kind and

patient, sometimes to a fault. They are most pleasant

creatures, and very good friends to the high king. Oug,

there,” he pointed back over his shoulder, “is one of the

younger Mountain Trolls. He’s only a few centuries old, by

the way you measure time. That would make him about your

age.”

“That’s amazing,” Saraid replied. “He does seem very

nice.” She changed subjects. “What did you mean when you

said what you did back there? About never knowing what may

try to cross the bridge?”

Derwydd looked uncomfortable, as if he did not wish to

discuss it. “Perhaps we should leave that subject for

another time, my young pupil. You are not yet ready.”

Saraid reined in her horse. Her riding had improved

some on the journey. “Master, how can my abilities improve

if you shelter me so? Am I so faint of heart that you must

hide truth from me?”


Derwydd smiled. “It’s not that at all, little

firebrand. You have the heart of a lioness, and the

courage to match. You contain in that lovely head of yours

the wisdom of the oracle herself. Only don’t try to grow

up so quickly. I’m trying to tell you… it will happen soon

enough.”

“Are you speaking prophetically, Derwydd?”

“As far as you see it, yes.”

Saraid sighed. “Very well, Master. I will remain

ignorant as long as you wish. But I do not like it.”

Derwydd chuckled. “Another lesson well learned, my

student. Sometimes we must do as we’re told, even when we

do not like it.”

They reached the end of the wood and the outer gate of

the enormous castle beyond. Several guards stood post

there. Derwydd removed his hood, and the first guard

stepped forward.

“Master Derwydd! Greetings in the name of Brenin Mawr,

whose reign is just and true.”

Derwydd inclined his head. “Indeed Brenin Mawr is

high king, and we are blessed to be under his watchful eye

and loving care.”

“And what would you say is his heart’s truest desire?”

the guard questioned.


The other guards moved slowly around behind Derwydd

and Saraid, surrounding them, weapons drawn. Derwydd,

though outwardly calm, was stunned by the guard’s response.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you so suspicious, Quinn, that

you must ask me riddles to prove my loyalty?”

Quinn remained grim-faced and held his hard stare. “I

merely ask a question to which the king’s true bard would

know the answer.”

Derwydd sighed. “The king’s first desire and truest

love would be Cerwyn, his ever-beautiful queen. But just

as true a desire would be his quest for truth to remain

always before his throne, reign from his throne, and be the

way of his kingdom.”

Quinn paused another moment, and then broke into a

relieved grin. “Well met, Derwydd! I am pleased to

welcome you back to hearth and home! And you bring a

rather interesting boon with you for the king, eh?” He

indicated Saraid.

Derwydd nodded to Saraid, who removed her hood. “This

is my new apprentice, Saraid. This is Quinn, master of the

king’s guard, and apparently quite a suspicious brute of

late. Do you mind telling me what that was all about,

Quinn?”


Quinn hesitated a moment. “I should let the king

explain, my friend. For now, rest at ease and be welcome,

both of you! You have had a long journey. We will water

your horses and give them food. Get you into the castle

and make ready to have an audience with the king and his

bride. They will dine with you tonight.”

#

In Saraid’s wildest fantasies, she’d never imagined

such opulence, such beauty. The king’s servants escorted

them to their rooms. Hers was decorated in rich, deep

golden hues accented with crimson. The windows dazzled her

eyes with crimson draperies, and red and gold tapestries

chronicling Albáin’s rich history covered the walls. Her

bed, canopied with a red and gold veil and piled high with

pillows, was so comfortable she thought she might never get

up. She felt like a princess.

A servant girl entered carrying a change of clothing

and curtsied. “If your lady pleases, I’ve drawn a bath for

you. If you’ll follow me.”

Saraid followed the young servant into an adjoining

room where an enormous bronze tub filled with steaming hot

water awaited her. She smelled the most wonderful odors;

perfumed oils of various types had been poured into the

bathwater and filled the room with a dizzying and relaxing


aroma. She discarded her robes; she’d been wearing a mix

of her own undergarments and a spare set of hand-me-downs

she and Derwydd bought from a seamstress in a village near

where he’d found her weeks before. She relished the idea

of being clean and having a fresh change of clothing. The

maid left her to relax for what felt like hours, but was

not nearly long enough. The servant returned to dry her

off, which Saraid found quite awkward. The servant simply

went about her business, applying some more of the perfumed

oil, and then helped her dress.

“Is this what royalty feels like?” Saraid asked the

servant.

“I’m sorry, my lady?” she asked.

“Never mind.” Saraid sighed comfortably.

The servant dressed her in a simple yet elegant gown,

at least by Saraid’s standards, who had lately been a bit

of a tomboy back home. Thinking of home brought a nagging

thought to mind for a fleeting moment. She thought of her

mother, in America, who would never believe what was

happening to her daughter. And Saraid thought of Daniel.

She wondered if he was worried about her, and what was

happening back in England with Uncle Walt and their new

friend, Thomas. The thought lasted only a moment---a

dream---and then it passed, like eating a tart grape in a


bowl full of sweet fruit. She admired herself in the

mirror after the servant finished dressing her, twirling in

front of her reflection, watching the simple blue and grey

gown spin as she turned. For a moment she was lost in the

memory of the little princess in a red dress on her first

day of school. The day her innocence vanished. There was

a knock at her door, startling her, and Derwydd entered.

“My, you look… much better, my pupil. I trust you

feel as good as you appear?”

Saraid beamed. “I feel much better, thank you,

Derwydd. This place is wonderful! Do you like my gown?”

His face reddened. “You look like a Duir Uid

princess, Saraid.” He gestured with his hand. “Shall we

go? It would not do to keep the king waiting.”

They went down an enormous staircase that descended on

either side of a great entryway. At the base of the twin

staircases stood the double-doored entrance to the great

hall. Two guards standing at attention on either side of

the doors held tall spears. Each spear had the king’s red

dragon standard hanging atop them. The guards opened the

doors as Saraid and Derwydd came forward.

Musicians were playing a light melody on harp and

flutes as they entered. A long wooden table was set up in

the center of the room, with another slightly shorter table


on the dais in front of the king’s throne. And it was most

unmistakably a throne.

Tall and covered in gold and silver, the throne

gleamed with a polished sheen, a set of gold-tipped antlers

atop its high back. Next to it on the right stood another

throne, slightly smaller, but just as elegantly crafted,

though more graceful in its lines. More curves, whorls,

and designs cut into its surface with silver and gold

inlaid in a rich rosy wood, but in contrast to the larger

throne, it was also studded with emeralds. Clearly a more

feminine design. To the left of the grand antlered throne

was still another throne, smaller than the other two, made

mostly of wood, but with silver and gold armrests, rubies,

and a golden crown cap on the headrest. Saraid assumed

this throne belonged to either a son or daughter.

The great room stretched nearly fifty feet high, and

the far end of the room held a hearth in which ten warriors

could stand upright side by side. In that hearth burned a

roaring fire, which warmed the entire hall. Across the

ceiling arced several beams of wood, but there were no

support beams in the hall itself. It was a marvel of

construction. Saraid, awed at all she saw, grew dizzy

spinning round and round, trying to take everything in.


She and Derwydd took their seats as several other members

of the court entered.

The musicians began a regal tune, a march, and

everyone stood. The king, his radiant queen, and their son

the prince entered, and Saraid couldn’t breathe, for her

breath had been taken by their radiant, graceful

appearances. She’d dreamed of seeing such glory, such

beauty before. But to see it in the flesh, and not just in

her mind’s eye, was overwhelming. Known throughout the

land as the Dragon King---so named for the Red Dragon

emblazoned on his shield and standard---Derwydd explained

to Saraid that the king had been chosen by the Dagda to be

Aird Righ, or High King of Albáin. Only the Dagda, through

the high bard, could choose one, and it had happened only a

handful of times in the entire history of the realm.

Brenin Mawr’s rule had been one of peace, and the land had

prospered greatly under it.

He was tall, powerful, with a strong face and kind

eyes. He wore his long brown hair tied back in a tail; his

wide golden crown set with rubies flashed in the firelight,

reminding anyone in his presence that he truly was the high

king. His gait was sure, his smile gentle, and he

continually eyed his queen, reminding her with every step


how in love he was with her. Saraid smiled, her face

aching from the joy of it. Oh, it was wonderful!

His queen looked at him with such love. And what a

face gazed up at him! Cerwyn was beauty personified.

Radiant, glowing, and perfect. She had flowing red hair,

fully brushed and pouring down her back. The ruby tresses

were kept from her face by the elegant silver crown that

rested on her brow, a crown sparkling with diamonds,

emeralds, and sapphires.

Saraid couldn’t help but stare and hoped she’d be

forgiven for such rudeness. Then her gaze fell on the

prince. Bran was not as tall as his father, but he held

all the same poise in his gait, and retained also some of

the fair beauty and youth of his mother. He was an

exercise in contrast. Hard, yet soft. Dark, yet radiant.

His arms were powerful, hair black as a raven, yet his skin

was pale like ivory and his lips as red as the bright

shining rubies in his father’s crown. This walking

contradiction had bright blue eyes that took in everything

and everyone. They fell upon Saraid and held her in their

penetrating gaze. She could feel the heat as her face

flushed. He broke the gaze as he passed, and she looked

away, trying to calm her pounding heart. Get a hold of

yourself!


As the three royals ascended the dais and took their

seats at their table, Saraid ventured another glance. The

prince again stared at her. Through her. She felt her

face burned even brighter. The king nodded his head, and

everyone else took their seats.

Derwydd must have noticed her flushed face. “Are you

well, Saraid? Is it perhaps too warm in the great hall?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you Derwydd. I’m just…

overwhelmed. I’ve never seen anything like this.” She

hoped that explanation satisfied him.

He nodded. “The high king and his family are wonders

to behold. But do not be deceived; they are more than just

beautiful people. They are good, kind, and just. And the

king is a formidable warrior. As is his son.”

The servants began filling the table with warm,

honeyed bread, lush greens, and stacks of fire-roasted

meats. The bakers, gardeners, and butchers had been busy

all day preparing this feast. The king set a grand table

indeed. Once everything was set, the king stood.

“I bid you all welcome. My queen and I thank you for

joining us upon our return, and for dining with us this

evening. You are all family to us, and you are all

friends.”


The tables were filled with warmth, smiles, and good

cheer. The king certainly knew how to make his subjects

feel loved and appreciated. He raised a toast to them all,

and then gave a blessing over the meal in the name of the

Dagda. They feasted long into the night.


The gates in this realm are also growing increasingly

unstable. We are entering a time between times. Only this

time, the new dawn may never come.



FOURTEEN

INISFÁIL

Just as Arthfael predicted, the three of them reached

the shores of Albáin by just after midday the next day.

Weiro kept Daniel awake most of the previous night with

bizarre tales of his exploits throughout the wondrous and

magical land of Albáin. He told stories about wood nymphs,

faeries, trolls, and vile goblyns. He spoke wistfully of

the beauty of the Golden Queen Cerwyn. And he told many a

tale of thievery, bravery, and just plain stupidity. A

most entertaining dwarf, he told a wealth of stories, with

more to spare.

In fact, the only thing he did more often than talk

was eat. By the time they reached the coast the next day,

most of Arthfael’s rations were depleted, along with


anything they’d managed to catch during their journey. As

they shared the last of their food around a fire, it was

nearing sunset.

“Weiro, you’d better be good with that dagger, you

little scoundrel, or I daresay we shall starve while we

await young Daniel,” Arthfael declared after they put out

the fire and made their way to a small dock along the

shore.

Daniel turned to Arthfael with worry on his face.

“What do you mean, await me? Arthfael, aren’t you coming

with me?”

Arthfael gave Daniel a sympathetic look. “No, my

young friend. Though I have enjoyed our time together

greatly, I have been doggedly training you for a reason.

You must make your way from here to the Island of Shadows

alone, and to the gates of Dún Scaith, the Shadow Fort.”

“You will wait here for me?” Daniel asked. “The whole

time?”

“That is not for you to wonder or worry, Daniel. Your

task is to take this small boat, row to yonder shore, and

make your way northward through the land of Inisfáil to its

northern shores. There you will procure another boat,

which you will take through the misty waters of the

northern seas to Iniscí, Island of Shadows. There, if you


be worthy, you will be trained by the great battle chief

herself: Scáthach, warrior queen of Albáin.”

Daniel looked from Arthfael to Weiro, sighed, took his

shield and sword from his horse, and gathered his few other

belongings together. He spoke quietly to his horse,

thanking her for her patience during their long journey

together. The horse nuzzled him, whinnying softly.

Arthfael looked on in silence, allowing him his moment

with the mare. When Daniel was ready, he clasped arms with

him in a warrior’s embrace.

“Good luck, Daniel. May the Dagda protect you and

watch over you. Make me proud.”

Daniel clasped Arthfael's arm in return, putting on a

more confident face than he really felt. “I will, my

brother and my teacher. And may the Dagda swiftly reunite

us to tell great tales of battle together.”

Arthfael slapped him hard on the back, nearly knocking

him over. “Well said, Daniel!”

As Daniel got into the boat, he turned to Weiro.

“Farewell, Weiro. I do not know what I shall do without

your tales to lull me to sleep tonight. Do not eat

Arthfael out of house and home!”


Weiro waved goodbye. “Farewell, Daniel. Dagda

protect you!” He added under his breath, “You’re going to

need it, young one.”

#

The boat ride was indeed short. Daniel could see the

opposite shore when he boarded the boat. It took less than

an hour of steady rowing to bring him to the other side.

The water was relatively calm, the trip uneventful. As he

stepped onto the beach on the opposite shore, he felt

suddenly disoriented, dizzy. The ground seemed to spin for

just a moment. He steadied himself, taking a deep breath,

then looked around to get his bearings. The beach was

bathed in amber light from the setting sun. There were

some trees ahead of him and to the north. To the south was

just a short stretch of beach, and then more of the vast

ocean. He had landed on the southeast corner of this great

island; he had a long journey ahead of him.

Daniel glanced back, but the far shore he had expected

to see was gone. Strange. What had been a short boat ride

was now ocean for miles and miles. He was alone. He

remembered the bizarre sensation when he set foot on the

beach, and became convinced that the island was enchanted.

Whether the far shore was really there and merely hidden or

whether it was actually gone, he could not say. He took


another deep breath, pulled his satchel tighter on his

shoulder strap, made sure his sword was secure at his belt,

his shield strung on the strap across his back. He headed

north, inland, into the trees, and toward his destiny.

#

The sun drifted slowly out of sight as Daniel traveled

deeper into the wilderness, the trees growing denser with

each step. There was no discernible path, no roads to

speak of on this strange island. And it was ominously

quiet. Darkness settled over the land, and he could no

longer see to navigate. He set up camp and broke out a

small portion of the rations in his satchel. A bit of

bread, some water from the river back in Albáin. He camped

near a small creek; he could hear it just to the west of

where he’d camped, but he dare not try to dig any deeper

through the dense foliage in the darkness. Better to wait

for the morning. He collected some brush and, striking two

bits of flint as Arthfael showed him, started a small fire.

When the ink black blanket of night had long covered

the mysterious island, the sounds of night began. Strange,

alien sounds, calls from creatures unknown to Daniel echoed

from all corners of the vast wood. Erie sounds, chilling

sounds. He longed for the comfort of sleeping under the

stars in Albáin. Here he could see no stars. This island


was different. The darkness here was different. Wild.

Dangerous.

He slept fitfully, his sword in his hand, his shield

at his side. At daybreak he cleared camp and continued

hacking through the dense brush. He followed the creek

upstream and came to a river, which he followed through the

day, knowing its source would likely be the higher ground

to the north.

One day led to the next, and another, and another.

Daniel never saw another creature. No other people. Only

at night did he hear sounds of life, and then in abundance.

The daylight brought silence, and it seemed… unnatural.

Several times along his journey through the dense woods,

Daniel had the feeling of being watched. But any time he

turned to see, there was nothing to behold. Only trees,

trees, trees.

Five times the sun rose, five times it fell into

darkness again. On the sixth day, as the sun was reaching

high into the sky, the mysteriously quiet forest gave way

to higher ground. Once in the mountains, it grew colder,

the terrain more harsh and unforgiving. The winds grew

biting and blew with a fierceness that made Daniel wonder

if there was some sort of presence behind it, willing him

to give up and turn back. More than once over the next


several days of toiled climbing, he was convinced he heard

a sinister voice behind the howling gale, shouting at him

to turn away before he regretted it. But he continued on.

Higher and higher he climbed, ignoring the biting cold and

the snow that buried him up to his knees.

A couple of times Daniel caught glimpses of grey fur

darting quickly out of sight a few hundred yards behind

him. Wolves. Perhaps these were the eyes he’d been

convinced all along were observing his progress. Maybe

they’d been tracking him since the forest, waiting until he

reached this harsh climate, until he was in their element,

to reveal themselves. Now, in these steep cliffs, they had

the advantage. They could leap on him with no warning, or

simply wait him out, and let the harsh winter winds eat

away at his resolve, sapping him of his warmth and his

strength.

Snow began to fall, so thick he couldn’t see more than

a few feet. Great big snowflakes, round and wet, piled

more white onto the bleak landscape. He was nearing the

top, but had to stop and camp for the night. To continue

climbing in the dark was too dangerous. There was very

little wood nearby at this altitude, a little bit of brush

here and there, but it was covered in snow, soaked through

and impossible to burn. He huddled under his cloak,


holding a bit of the snow-soaked brush in his hand, staring

longingly at it in the waning light.

“What I wouldn’t give for a fire right about now,”

Daniel said out loud. Instantly the brush ignited. He

yelped, dropping the brush, the fire burning his fingers.

“Ouch!” He stared at the small branch in fascination,

watching it burn. He stepped over to where he’d gathered

the now flaming brand and broke off some more. He tried to

get the new batch to burn along with the other. It

wouldn’t light. He stared at the branch, concentrating,

and spoke. “Fire.” Nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut,

focusing. Praying for it to combust. “Fire!” It ignited,

and he hollered. “Ha! It worked! Weird.”

He gathered as much brush as he could find and soon

had a decent fire going. The wolves would keep their

distance now, wary of the flames. He rested a little

easier, though he kept his sword at the ready. Even though

the wolves hadn’t come any closer than a hundred yards or

so, he wasn’t going to take chances.

He stared at the fire, pondering its significance. He

thought back, for the first time since coming to this

wonderful and strange land, to Uncle Walt. He thought

about what his uncle had told him about the imagination,

the power it held, especially in this world. That this


world was where it really shaped things, where beauty and

ideas and dreams were truly personified. That would

explain how he could simply call fire forth from a branch

of soaking wet wood. Uncle Walt had told him that he and

his sister were both storytellers. Perhaps that was why he

was able to do this.

Sarah! He hadn’t even thought about her since he’d

arrived. What kind of brother was he? Why was it growing

more difficult to remember home, to remember his family?

Everything was so beautiful here, so much more colorful,

more alive…

He shook his head. That was it. It was alluring

because it was so much more ideal than the world he came

from. His world, with all its function and practicality.

Lifeless, cold, gray. This was a realm devoted to beauty

for its own sake, committed to relishing in the creative,

soaking in the divine. But to think he’d actually

forgotten about his sister. It was disconcerting. He

wondered where she was tonight, and hoped she was somewhere

warmer than he. That was his last thought as he drifted

into a light but troubled sleep.


I miss home… if indeed it still exists. I have begun

to doubt my own memory. The evil of this place is growing

stronger. It consumes. It corrupts.



FIFTEEN

THE GLEN

The morning broke bright and sunny. Daniel looked

around but found no sign of skulking wolves. Perhaps the

fire persuaded them to look elsewhere for food. Or maybe

they had simply fallen back to wait for a more opportune

time.

His food supply gone, he broke camp and looked for

signs of edible vegetation. Without the snowstorm to blind

him, the skies blue and clear, Daniel could see up to the

mountain’s peak, not very far away now. He turned and

looked back over his journey thus far. He’d traveled quite

a fair distance. He nodded, proud of what he’d done, but

not overconfident. He knew there would be more challenges


ahead. He turned to the north, squared his shoulders, and

resumed his climb.

He reached the mountaintop by midmorning, and the view

took his breath away. A wide valley spread down the north

face of the mountain, and a deep glen stretched to the

horizon, dense with the deep green of thick, tall trees. A

misty haze snaked along the center of the sprawling valley,

evidence of another river. If he followed this one, it

would likely lead him to his destination, the north shores

of Inisfáil. Just to his left, pouring down from the

melting snow into the lush valley below, a magnificent

waterfall, a rainbow arcing from the misty water across his

view and disappearing from sight. It was amazing.

By midday, Daniel was below the snow line and

sweating. He started seeing animals then. Birds darted

overhead, their songs filling his ears with music and his

heart with gladness. Their company buoyed him up from the

long, cold, lonely week he’d just endured. Next came game.

Stags leaped from behind large trees and brambles; foxes

and rabbits and squirrels scampered out of sight as he

plunged deeper and deeper into the wooded hills near the

base of the mountain.

He neared the bottom of the waterfall, the impressive

crashing, pounding power of wave upon wave of water loud in


his ears. He rounded a bend in the rocky hills, parted the

branches of some densely growing trees, and there he found

the source of the river: a crystal clear mountain lake, the

waterfall feeding it generously, the water rippling outward

in waves, ring after ring, the current hypnotizing him as

it flowed away into the mouth of the great river

downstream.

It had been many days since he’d had a real bath. He

stripped quickly, the sun shining overhead and warm on his

back. He dove in, the water from the waterfall still cold

from the glacial snows far above mingling with the warm

waters of the lake. It was a thrilling sensation. He dove

deep, over and over again, drank in the crystal clear

water, then set about scrubbing the dirt and grime from his

limbs. Clean, he floated lazily on his back, the sun

warming his face and chest. He felt so content that he

fell into a doze.

Daniel was unaware that his antics in the mountain

lake were being observed. The shadow watching him from a

thick stand of trees along the bank of the lake was of

slender build, small and athletic. It had long hair tied

back in a tail, and held a long, formidable looking spear

with a vicious tip. The eyes that watched him carefully

were large, almond shaped, and bright green. As she


watched Daniel swim, he began to hum. Her ears, large and

pointed, perked up, attentive. Her eyes widened in

fascination. This was the first time she’d seen an

outsider of any kind come into the glen. She would report

it to the clan at once… after she listened and watched a

little longer.

#

Daniel climbed out of the lake, sat down on a large

rock, and dried off in the warm light of the sun. The

sound of the pounding waterfall was so relaxing he almost

missed the subtle motion off to his left. He was sure he

saw something move in those trees.

“Hello?” Daniel said, reaching for his clothes. He

dressed, grabbed his pouch and weapons, and crept to where

he’d seen movement. He crouched down and inspected the

ground. There, nearly invisible, were a few bent blades of

grass. Someone or something had been standing there.

Recently. He stood. “Hello? Anybody there?” He scanned

the nearby foliage. Nothing. He waited, motionless,

trying to listen over the sound of the waterfall. Again,

nothing.

Convinced whatever had bent the grasses was gone,

Daniel turned to the north and came face to face with at

least a dozen spears.


#

His spine rigid, Daniel slowly raised his hands.

“Easy there. I don’t mean any harm.”

They held their ground, almond eyes focused on him,

spears at the ready. Their expressions, though not

aggressive, were rather dispassionate. Even cold. Except

the female, which Daniel noticed was watching him with a

certain level of… curiosity. Daniel counted twelve of

them; all but one dressed the same. The strange creatures

were short, about four feet tall, and had long, fine hair

in various shades of brown, either tied back in a tail or

braided. Their eyes were different shades of bright green

or hazel. Some had gray skin, others pale ivory, and they

all had long slender limbs, gentle slim fingers, and soft

features.

The female wore clothing covering the upper and lower

torso, from the left shoulder across the body, and down to

the just above the knee. The garment was well made, sewn

from leaves but looking more like woven cloth. The males

only wore clothing to cover the waist.

The most notable thing about their skin was the

painted symbols, or perhaps they were tattoos. Spirals and

whorls covered the males' arms and shoulders, including the

strange circle symbol he’d seen so often back at Uncle


Walt’s place. The female had a single spiral design along

the left side of her face that wrapped around her eye.

They all had ears that were large and pointed, shaped like

the ears of a deer.

Daniel ventured to speak again. “I am Daniel. I

greet you in the name of the Dagda, the Ever Living One.”

They stared at him in silence, spears still at the

ready, but said nothing. Other than a twitch of the ears

at the name of the Dagda, they were motionless.

“I am on a quest to reach the Island of Shadows,

Daniel continued. “I was sent by my teacher alone to do

this. I ask for safe passage through your glen.”

“This glen is not safe for mortals,” the lead warrior

replied, speaking clearly in the same ancient Celtic Daniel

had grown accustomed to using.

“You speak the language of Albáin?” Daniel asked.

“I speak the language you are speaking.”

“Is that your language as well?”

“You could not speak our language.”

Daniel pondered for a moment. “May I ask you, good

warrior, what are you?”

The warrior stood tall and proud. “We are the Elves

of the Glen.”


Daniel stood in awe. “Elves. Amazing. I’ve never

seen elves before.”

The leader cocked his head to one side. “Of course

not. You have never been here before.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, I’ve read stories…

but you’re not what I imagined.”

The elves started chattering to each other. It

sounded like the chirping and chittering of birds, or

perhaps squirrels, mixed with French.

The warrior elf faced Daniel again. “You read

stories?”

“Yes.” Daniel answered. “My uncle writes a great deal

of them.”

More chattering. The warrior spoke again. “Your

uncle. Is he a bard?”

“I guess you could say that. I come from… well, I am

from the Shadowlands. I crossed over to Albáin, and now I

am being sent by High King Brenin Mawr to become a warrior.

And I need to find my sister eventually. Though I don’t

know where she is, actually.”

The warrior leader stood stunned for a moment. “You

are an Outlander?” He stepped forward. “You come from the

land of shadows, along with another?”


Daniel took a nervous step back. “Yes. Why? Is that

bad?”

This time the chattering was loud and long. An

argument. This was suddenly not looking very good. The

leader turned to Daniel again. “The mist. You have

brought it with you?”

“Uh… what mist? What are you talking about?”

The female spoke to the leader. After listening to

her for a moment, he addressed Daniel. “Are you not aware

of the darkness that has crept into this land? It spreads

even now from Albáin to Inisfáil. No land is safe, no one

is protected. It spreads like a sickness, and leaves death

in its wake.”

Daniel thought for a moment. He recalled what

Arthfael and Weiro had said, about strange goings on in the

realm recently. “I only know that there have been strange

happenings in Albáin of late. I did not know the cause.”

“We think you are the cause, Shadow Mortal.”

The female spoke harshly to the leader, who whirled on

her, arguing in response. After this exchange she took a

single step back, but her eyes flashed defiantly.

Daniel remained motionless. “I don’t know how I could

cause this, good sir," he began. "But can I not have safe


passage through this glen? I will not give you any

trouble, and I must fulfill my quest.”

Before the warrior could respond the female

interrupted. “You must indeed fulfill this quest, mortal.

We elves have a prophesy of the coming of a Shadow Mortal

to our realm, and with him will come lies, destruction, and

chaos.”

Daniel spoke anxiously. “You believe I am this Shadow

Mortal? I have no intention of bringing destruction or

chaos, and I am not lying to you.”

The female shook her head. “That I cannot say. I

cannot see the future. Nevertheless, we cannot control the

fate that the Dagda has already proclaimed.”

The leader interrupted her, glaring. “Enough, Aiwe!

Do not speak to him of these things!”

Aiwe turned on him, shouting in their language. It

was a short argument. The leader bit his lower lip, turned

his back on her, and folded his arms. She turned to

Daniel. “My brother Keleo believes we should simply kill

you. I say we take you back to speak with the elders of

our clan. I am the older,” she stated, glaring at her

brother. “He must do as I say.”

#


They walked quickly, the elves urging him on with

greater speed as the sun began to set and the shadows in

the valley grew deeper. Daniel asked Aiwe why they

traveled in such haste.

“Because of the shadows. It is not safe in the glen

after dark.”

“What happens after dark?” Daniel asked.

“The Scáchun rule the night in the glen.”

“Scáchun?” He thought about the word. “Shadow dogs?”

“Yes. They are very dangerous, Daniel. We must not

be caught outside when the sun sets. That is why we hurry,

because they only attack at night. They hate the light.”

Soon the dense forest gave way to a clearing. In the

center of that clearing, which dipped slightly, stood a

massive tree with a trunk easily fifty yards wide. It rose

many hundreds of feet in the air, its crown lost in the

clouds above. Its branches were a canopy that sheltered

the surrounding trees, the enormous shadow stretched for

over a mile in every direction.

Daniel stared up at the gigantic tree in awe. Aiwe

stood next to him.

“The Great Tree. It is the center of Inisfáil. It

lives. It sings. It speaks. It gives life to the

island.”


They slid down the grassy slope to the base of the

tree. One of the roots of the tree, knotted and gnarled,

rose up along the ground about twenty feet away from the

trunk. They went underneath it, and Daniel saw that it had

a hole in the base of it. They stepped into the hole in

the root---he had to stoop, because he was so much taller

than the elves---and down a long, winding staircase. Down

and down they went, the cold earthen walls close on either

side of him. Every thirty paces or so there was a strange,

glowing plant protruding from the earth, its translucent

light bathing the travelers in a strange, pale green glow.

Periodically, bits of the Great Tree’s root system snaked

through the earthen walls of the stairwell as they wound

deeper and deeper into the earth.

Suddenly the tunnel opened up into a deep, wide chasm

filled with a network of crisscrossing roots, chutes,

steps, and ladders. A latticework of roots spread far into

the cavern, the glowing plants freckling the surfaces

everywhere, making everything shimmer and twinkle in

strange, unearthly green hues. This was the home of the

Elves of the Glen, deep within the bowels of the Great

Tree. They had a rich, complex water source at their

fingertips. They lived in a lush forest with plenty of

food, and here, deep within the earth, they were safe from


predators. Daniel looked around, mouth agape, at the homes

they’d built. Little hive-like huts protruded from the

roots, forming communities. At the center of this twisted

knot of winding roots was an enormous meeting hut, easily

able to fit two hundred men. Or four hundred elves.

Aiwe and the band of elf warriors led Daniel to this

great hall. He heard the whispers, the chattering, saw the

looks of mistrust and fear. From everywhere, large, bright

eyes watched him.

Daniel and his escorts entered the main hut; he heard

them call it the “Doma.” The elders, as Aiwe called them,

awaited them. There were three of them, wearing elaborate

headdresses made of vines, berries, and leaves. They each

stood behind lecterns of some sort that seemed to grow out

of the root floor itself. Even though these elders were

clearly in charge, and their eyes stared hard---even

sternly---at him, Daniel was overcome by their overwhelming

calm. He beheld a serenity in their countenance that

seemed to merely magnify their roles of leadership.

Aiwe stepped forward to address the three elders. As

she did so, many of the elves of the glen quickly and

silently filed into the great hall behind them. Before

she’d even finished bowing to each of the three, there

wasn’t any room left for spectators, and there were still


many elves standing outside, craning their necks for a

chance to see the Outlander. Aiwe waited another moment

before speaking to the elders in their native tongue.

Daniel took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. This

meeting would definitely be interesting.

the sleeper wakes second sample

Documents

worlds uncle walt

uncle walter

sleeper wakes uncle

daniel tore

dont worry

daniels shoulder

laundry room

neighbor boy