Excerpt: The Path Of Shadows

Chapter 1
Air: Somewhere in time

The moon rose high that evening, casting a silver glow to the clouds drifting below that hid the distant valleys from view. The only sound to be heard was the wind, save the fall of her, own footsteps. The stargazer’s tower was lit like a beacon in the distance, far ahead on the winding mountain road. There she was yet again, the night so new, and yet so many I have spent passing through just this place. She was still haunted by faces and voices of those long gone, and echoes of songs that will never be heard again drifting through the stillness of the night air. It is not so much what she remembers that haunts her on nights such as these, but all she fears she has forgotten, that keeps her on this path of shadows.

Even on nights such as these, there is no hope to lose one’s self in self-pity and reflection. To walk such a path is to be swallowed whole by its emptiness, and spend your days drowning yet again in despair. She finds herself there often, pondering the reasons for this existence, who she is, and what she has become. While she cannot change the cause of her suffering, she can push away any small chance for happiness, or she can cherish those things, that give her joy, the brief moment in the expanse of time she has the honor to possess them.

The tower, looms well overhead by now, its windows glistening, the rest of the village peacefully sleeping, save for the dim lights that illuminate, the small village tavern. She has passed though this well worn doorway many times, rarely to see familiar faces. While mere months, within her time, seven years have passed for this world since she last came, and before that, almost twenty. Once she departs this world, on the next full moon, there is no way to know how long it will be before she returns again.

The tavern is empty, save for a dark haired man curled up with his ale and a late meal in the corner. The dust and smell of the road still clung to his clothes and hair, mingling with the scent of pipe tobacco. He paid her little mind, as she made her way to the hearth to warm herself by the fire, her pale silver cloak still pulled tightly around her to fight off the chill of the mountain air.

“It isn’t safe for a woman to travel this road alone at night,” He finally spoke, his eyes turning to her at long last with more than passing interest. The tension in her eased, when his voice and manner showed genuine concern, taken for a girl on the edge of womanhood as she most often is. Has it been years or centuries she has wandered now? Time was a blur, an endless sea of shifting sands. Only on thing was certain, she cannot remember what set her on this path of suffering, any more than she has knowledge of how to relieve it.

“I had no choice but to finish the journey, or spend the night sleeping under the stars,” She answered quietly, her hands at last only beginning to lose their chill, though the fire did little for her spirits, her stomach rumbling all the more at the sight and smell of the meal set out on the table before the stranger, even though it was little more than stew and day old bread.

“Have you traveled far?” He asked his eyes catching my gaze on his dinner, even as she tried to divert herself as soon as she realized he had noticed. He rose from the table, disappearing from sight into the next room briefly, returning with what appeared to be another steaming bowl, and a good size hunk of bread, making her stomach ache all the more for the sight of it, before he placed it on the table across from him and returned to his chair, nodding as he said, “sit, eat.”

“I am from a land very far from here, yes,” she replied, knowing it was not a lie, though he never would have believed just how distant, somewhere in time, far beyond her reach, or memory of a way to return. She has now only fading glimpses of that life, that come only in dreams and fleeting memories.

“What brings you to our humble village?” He asked, his eyes yet again studying her even as she hesitantly began to eat, taking conscious effort not to appear as if she were starving, even though she was.

“I’m not sure,” Aija answered, some warmth finally beginning to come over her, “I remember being here many years ago. I think I was just hoping to find a familiar face.”

“Where’s your family?” He asked, that same concern returning to his eyes, that spoke of the usual manner of these mountain people, the lead hard lives in this rocky climb, but were for the most part kind and generous, though there were at time exceptions.

“Long gone,” she said, knowing, as she had assumed he had taken her for so much younger than her true age. While she is never mistaken for a child, she still appears young enough that in most worlds they believe she needs some looking after. As old as she becomes, she will never appear a day older than she does now.

She cannot remember who she truly is, and where she comes from, only that she has a name, Aija. Several cultures have told her it has a variety of meanings, the name is common enough in some worlds that none think it strange.

“Going to need a room then?” He asked, already knowing the answer as she nodded, setting some coins down on the table in front of him. Even when she does not have much in the way of the currency of these worlds there is one thing she does know well. If one does keep small objects and carries them long enough, eventually they become valuable antiques, as with these coins, which she had acquired hundreds of years ago in this world’s time. The expression in his eyes was enough to tell her, he was a man that knew what she was putting in front of him. Elements that are common in one reality are rare and very valuable in others, something she has learned very well over time. It is however important to keep a balance to things and only carry what she needs to care for herself. Greed brings no good in the end, in this world or any other.

Her dinner finished, she was escorted to a small but comfortable room, barely big enough to hold the small single bed, and a chest, though she needed little more, The comfortable bed was covered in thick quilts which smelled as if they had been freshly washed, the mattress a comfortable one of down instead of the usual straw. Once the stranger had left her to herself, she sank onto the bed, her mind still reeling with the change, turning the memories of the world of metal over in her mind, so fresh, but who knew how far ago in time now. She had passed to the next world this time before the night had ended, awakening long before the sun rose, not that it had never happened before. Once the full moon enters the sky, the moment she closes her eyes, it works its magic, and she finds herself somewhere else upon awakening.

She had scarcely closed her eyes again, it seemed until morning’s light was spilling in the bedroom window, the room so cold she could see her breath. She stood shivering as she redressed herself, pulling on her shoes before putting the bed back in order. A crude mirror hung on the wall, just clear enough to aid her in fixing her hair, before she made her way down the near ancient wooden steps hearing them groan on protest under her weight even though they were solid and in no danger of imminent collapse.

The tavern was not full, but there were several others milling about when she entered the room, paying the barkeep for more stew and bread, her eyes yet again turning to the dark haired man she had met the night before, whom it was said was the older brother of the ailing tavern owner. The tavern and the inn above, was owned for several generations of this same family, now in the hands of three brothers who shared it equally. The three story building housed most of the immediate family on its uppermost floor, the guest rooms occupying half of the second floor. Aija had never in all her travels there, seen the rooms completely full.

The man approached her quietly as she ate, sitting down beside her, and placing a cup of steaming cider on the table in front of her. She was curious of the reason for all the attention, though he did not at all seem unkind, which was why she accepted, taking a big a sip as she could manage without burning her tongue.

“Thank you,” she said setting the cup back onto the table, watching a smile spread across the man’s features. He wasn’t nearly old, appearing about only thirty or thirty five years by the weathered-ness of his features, but lack of silver in his near coal black hair. It was a lot warmer in the tavern, the fire in the large hearth and the cider beginning to take some of the chill away.

“You do know that those coins you gave me are worth a lot of money?” He said obvious by his manner that he was trying to be honest, the sense of honor he seemed to project, not allowing him to take what he though was undue advantage.

“I know,” she answered quietly yet again, her eyes this time looking into his, “I had intended to stay for more than one night, most likely a month, and I’ll need meals for the time I am here.”

“What ever you’d like to eat just ask,” He finally nodded and agreed, though he knew what she had handed him was still a little more than fair, his conscience at least easing in the fact that she was aware.

All eyes turned to the door at the sound of a loud thud, as a small boy came spilling in, tripping over both a dog and his own two feet, his eyes nearly hidden between a mop of wild golden waves. The man rolled his eyes with frustration as the dog wove its way barking in between the tables, and the boy righted himself to chase after it. He rose from the table groaning, moving to gently grab hold of the child by the nape of the neck, as he called the dog to him, looking at him sternly as the dog heeled, then set down eyeing the man and the boy, tail thumping loudly against the bare floorboards of the room, as its tongue dangled sideways out of its mouth.

“How many times have I told you now that your dog belongs outside in his own house Ianto?” The man asked him, trying to sound a lot more, gruff than he was, though Aija could tell that he couldn’t quite pull it off, amused by the child’s antics as he was. After all, the boy was no more than maybe five years old, and far from being old enough to know better.

“I just wanted to tell you it was snowing uncle Falden” The boy said, his bottom lip quivering as if he thought he was really in trouble that time.

“And he smelled Sunday dinner and just ran right inside?” The man asked, laughter spreading across his face, even as it was heard echoing though the air, as he moved across the room, shooing the little dog back outdoors, where it sat and barked annoyingly at the door. Aija was in agreement the venison that was roasting over the fire did smell completely heavenly. Falden reached to brush a few stray flakes out of the boy’s hair, shooing him toward the stairs also, “Why don’t you go and tell your mother, maybe she’ll open your father’s curtains so he can see it.”

Aija had to look away to keep from feeling like a fool, when he’d looked back toward her to find her smiling at what she’d seen, as she heard the boy’s footsteps rumbling like thunder as he ran up the stairs, disappearing from view. She took another couple sips of the cider, trying to hide her amusement, but knew it probably wasn’t working when Falden once again plopped himself down in the seat across from her.

“Is something funny?” He asked her, trying to give her that gruff deadpan look he had given the boy only moments before, though it was working even less so on her, than it had on the child, making her laugh all over again. She was glad to hear his deep laughter again as his face softened, dark eyes sparkling with humor. “That’s my little brother’s son. He’s a good boy, but quite a handful.”

“He seems it,” she replied smiling again, “Can imagine he does keep this place rather lively with his presence.” The words did manage to garner her, another. genuine laugh from him, though there still remained some small sadness in his eyes, as Falden’s gaze once again turned to the stairs the boy had just taken only a moment ago.

“Just wish there was more that could be done,” He almost whispered, before realizing he had spoken it outwardly, looking embarrassed that she had noticed.

“What is it?” Aija asked, cocking her head as she gazed at him, trying to offer him a reassuring glance, not that she believed he would accept that comfort, if he was the stubborn sort that he seemed to be.

“My brother and I returned from the war, a couple of days ago,” He spoke, his expression visibly sinking even as the words left his lips. I made it through alright, but my brother was wounded, and injured worse still when his horse took an arrow and threw him, he was trampled.”

“Has a healer been to see him?” Aija asked, noticing the tired expression of frustration, and futility that was about him now.

“What can be done for him has already been done,” Falden replied, his voice barely a whisper again as he said, “There was little more that could be done for him than to bring him home and pray. He cannot move, other than to open his eyes if he is spoken to, and even then he doesn’t respond. Time is short for him we’re just doing what we can to comfort him until it takes its course.”

Aija took the grave look that he now wore to mean that the man had little to no hope of recovery, her own heart sinking at the news. She could scarcely imagine just how Falden and his family must have been coping with it all. It had explained to her his late night presence within the tavern. He seemed the sort to have set up with him most of the night, not wanting to leave him alone.

There was nothing she could do to help him, other than that fact that she never aged, she had few if any abilities most human beings did not possess, save one, which she rarely allowed herself to employ, not that it would do that man any good or harm, even though self-levitation had earned her a few coins on occasion when she had passed it off as a nice parlor trick in a tavern or two. It certainly wasn’t the time or place for that sort of behavior just then.

It wasn’t long after, the front door crept open and a tall platinum haired young man stepped inside, with a familiar look that sent chills down Aija’s spine. Falden moved away to tend to the stranger, who seemed similarly transfixed on looking back at her, even when she tried her best to divert her gaze. She searched her mind, trying to remember just where and when she had seen this man before, certainly not in this world, or he would have been a child, and that would have been impossible, as he looked no older than she.

Falden brought her another hot cider, even as he sat a cup of the same in front of the stranger, looking puzzled to see her uneasy gaze, his eyes turning to the man with mild suspicion, as he returned to the chair across from her he had occupied only moments ago.

“Is everything alright, he hasn’t bothered you has he?” Falden whispered to her as he leaned across the table toward her, careful that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“No,” Aija replied, shaking her head softly, “He hasn’t done anything his face just looks so familiar, I just can’t think of who he is, or where I know him from.”

“The way he’s looking at you, I’d say that thought may be mutual, or he has a poor manners and a staring problem, just be careful. If he seems to be getting the notion to stop looking and try touching, don’t hesitate to call for me. I know just how to deal with that sort. Aija had to laugh a bit ironically at that comment, finding it flattering but also amusing that even though she was almost a complete stranger, Falden was still prepared to defend her honor.

The day passed slowly as she wandered in and out of the tavern, taking in the beauty of the village covered in freshly in a dusting of fallen snow, the clouds below made the little town seem an island of its own now that the storm had passed. Only storm clouds usually did reach that altitude, and when they came, they were not only the weather they contained, but a thick and sometimes deadly fog, if one did not stay within the safety of the village’s homes, only a fool would wander in that weather.

The man she had seen did not seem to be following her closely, but observed her many times that day from afar, his gaze more than once making her uneasy. Though she did not wish to be a prisoner of her room, or even the tavern, she did take care to stay within the presence of others, and not wander into areas where there was a chance of being alone with him.

The yard and fields surrounding the tavern were by late morning a maze of trails made in the snow by the boy Ianto and his little dog, as they raced this way and that around the village at their games with the villages other children. By early evening however, the snow had all but melted away, the day having turned warmer, and the clouds below had vanished, revealing a breathtaking view of the valleys below, and what seemed an endless range of other mountains that stretched as far as they eye could see into the distance.

The air picked up a chill again around sunset as she wandered yet again between the houses, to notice Ianto yet again out in the field, but this time not busy with one of his games, the boy instead transfixed on the now softly glowing lights in the windows of the stargazer’s tower. Curious she approached him, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder softly as not to frighten him even as she hoped to get his attention.

“What do you think he sees in there?” He asked, looking up at her, before his eyes once again turned to the telescope that protruded from the top of the tower, ever aimed toward the heavens.

“I don’t know, have you ever asked him Ianto?” she said softly, curious herself, though it seemed she had lost her sense of wonder in things such as the stars long, long before. Odd, how one almost forgot about those things, until little ones, rekindle in us that curiosity.

“Mother says I shouldn’t bother him, that he has important work to do.” He sighed sadly, eyes turning from the telescope toward the rapidly darkening sky, which was already beginning to fill with stars. “I wonder what the stars look like up close, are they really just candles in the sky like in story books, or fireflies?”

“I’m not sure,” Aija replied her own voice almost a whisper, as she found herself staring into the night sky also, suddenly wondering the same, “But someday you’ll know Ianto. If you want to find the answers enough, I believe you can.”

“More than anything,” He whispered, eyes filled with wonder, though growing sad when he heard his mother calling him inside for bed. He gave Aija a half hearted smile before taking one last look at the stars before reluctantly making his way back into the tavern, and Aija found herself alone in the field, save for a little dog, who sat at her feet, cocking his head as he looked up at her with a soft whine.

“I miss him already too.”

Aija’s eyes once again returned to the sky, as she sank onto a rock, shiver passing through her as a pair of dim shooting stars passed overhead. Most of the windows in the village were now dim, the air quiet and still. She had scarcely heard his footsteps until he grew near, but jumped with a start to see the stranger from the tavern standing silently behind her, her heart near beating out of her chest as she turned to look at him. He hadn’t said a word to her, or made any move to touch her, and yet she found herself terrified, as his gaze once again transfixed upon her, his eyes that same icy silver as her own.

“Who are you?” She whispered, all at once overcome with the compulsion to flee, and find something with which to defend herself. As badly as she wanted to scream, her voice was failing her, and as far as she was from the tavern and the other nearby homes, she feared she would not be able to outrun him, if he chose to attack.

There seemed nowhere to go as he stepped closer, and she half fell over herself as she slid from the rock and began to back away from him, only to hear him whisper, “Please don’t be afraid.”

She was in tears by the time he closed the distance, stepping between her and hope of escape, making her retreat yet again to the rock, as his hand reached for her, her body shivering all at once as if ice had filled her veins at the touch of his fingertips, scenes flashing through her vision. It came yet again as it had in dreams, the aurora skies, the sea like glass, the sound of chimes in windless air. Then all at once it came, the fear, the confusion, visions of being torn away from those she loved, but can no longer see, the visions lost to memories of the monster that haunted her nightmares, the hand she clung to ripped from hers, before it seemed she fell forever, and woke screaming, the same cries her voice echoed, as she fought to pull away from the stranger’s grasp, only to have him hold her fast.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it,” He whispered, trying to calm her, and keep her quiet, though he failed miserably. The man looked around them in fear, though not in the direction of the village, his eyes instead trained on the deepest shadows of the dark night that surrounded them.

Those same shivers now passed through her, as she also remembered, the faceless black form that emerged from those, kind of shadows, whispering, “You’ve seen it too?”

There was no time for answers as she heard the all too familiar screeching cries echoing through the night, and the man was all at once pulling her to her feet and half dragging her as fast as her feet could go fleeing for the tavern. She could barely pulling in breath for exhaustion and fear, her head reeling as those screeches grew deafening and its ink black tendrils began to fill the air around her, reaching for her, pulling at her clothes, twisting into her hair until at last it had a firm grip on her, the stranger screaming all at once as loudly as she, his dagger drawn, fighting to cut her free, only to find the blade of no use, as it passed through the wraith’s body, leaving it untouched, Falden’s sword doing no more damage as he emerged from the tavern to take up the fight.

Her last glimpse of that word was seeing fear in Ianto’s eyes, as the boy watched the battle from the upstairs window, pounding on the glass and screaming ,before the blackness enveloped her completely, and she vanished from view, leaving no trace to tell to which new world she’d gone.