XXXVI. The Dream and The Waking

“How in Dawn’s Light are you still alive?” Rowena murmured in disbelief as Aichlan began to stir.

Aichlan opened his eyes and was met by a blurry, shadowy mess. He raised his arms, which were as heavy as ballast stones, and rubbed his eyes with cold, numb hands. After blinking several more times, the blurred mess of shapes and dim light took on the form of a soft face and a canopy of leaves. Half of his body was wet, and he glanced down to see his legs half submerged in a placid stream. Aichlan groaned and tried to sit up, but found his body stiff and unresponsive.

A warmth covered him and he felt the weight melt from his limbs as the smell of lemongrass filled his nostrils. With some difficulty, Aichlan sat up to thank the exhausted monk that had lent his power. The young man wore a sheen of perspiration on his bruised face, and the bags under his eyes told of many nights without sleep. Aichlan pulled his legs from the water and promptly dunked his head into the stream. The water was frigid and refreshing, shocking him from his semi-conscious state, and slaking his thirst with a sweet aftertaste.

“You’re going to catch a cold…” Rowena said crossly as Aichlan shook his head like a wet dog. “Where have you been?”

Aichlan wiped his face off on his surcoat and sat back on a stone. The forest was dense and dark, though he could tell it was daytime by the stray beams of sunlight that filtered down. The forest floor was an undulating carpet of moss covered logs and loamy soil. The trees were not as close and gnarled as they had been in the Wraith wood, but they still created a claustrophobic atmosphere. He sighed and took stock of his surroundings, aside from Rowena and the monk, there was a mage and Enyo, attempting to weld her shattered blade back together.

“Why are you here?” Aichlan asked at length. “Why aren’t you with Fiora?”

Rowena averted her eyes as she tugged at her hem. “She fell in Sorn, they all did.”

Aichlan chuckled. “If only we were all so lucky.”

“That’s not funny.” Rowena scolded. “We could have used them in the coming battles.”

Enyo swore and flung the broken blade into the forest. Aichlan turned and watched her for several moments. The soldier, Alden, had been genuinely afraid of her when he heard her name. With the soldier’s death, he was left with unanswered questions, such as how did he find them, and what did he mean by the old gods were dead?

Donough stepped from behind a thicket, a sling in one hand and several partridges slung over his shoulder. He unclipped a long, straight dagger from his belt and handed it to Enyo, who took it with a begrudging nod. She unsheathed her own curved dagger and took up a fighting stance, experimenting on how best to wield her new weapons.

“Ye di’nae die.” Donough grunted as he tossed the fowl at Rowena’s feet. “Prep these for the fire, then we head out.”

Rowena narrowed her eyes, words of venom on her tongue, but acquiesced all the same. Donough built a circle of stones and set a fire to hover over the dirt in the middle. Aichlan turned back to Enyo, watching with interest as she lunged and leapt about, trying to acclimate herself to a new fighting style.

“We’re a bit short aren’t we?” Aichlan asked. “I recall us having considerably more people than this.”

He had battled dragons in the caves of Gojira Mountains, fled a phoenix upon an erupting volcano and even survived his own death in the Arlien borderlands. He had lost every man under his command in Arlien, and again, it seemed, upon the borders of this wood. Many would call him cursed after the first time he lost every man under his command, but for it to happen twice….

“Madden and Taryn took the boy back to Marquez, Enyo and I followed you into that portal, only when we came oot the other end, ye were nowhere tae be found.” Donough jerked his thumb towards Rowena. “Daen’t know how or why she’s here.”

“That light hit Yggdrasil.” Rowena said emphatically. “If Yggdrasil has fallen or is in danger, we must get there before that monster Osric does!”

“He had a hell of a head start…” Aichlan tousled his wet locks with his hand. “Besides…”

Ever since awaking, everything held a strange, dreamlike quality. He could not separate the world as it was now and the strange dream he had just had, if it even was a dream. Aichlan rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and saw flashes of the sun streaked Elysium. His eyes flung open as his heart and breath quickened. There was no way it had been anything other than a dream, his father had set him on this journey, through black magic or force of will, it did not matter. The visions of eternal dawn were just that, visions, hallucinations, the byproduct of stress and fatigue.

Aichlan stood and took stock of his forces. A tired monk, a frightened mage, and three elves, one of whom’s weapon had been destroyed in the last engagement. Then there were the dreams…. Assuming that his hallucinations were in fact true, did he truly have reason to even go on? Renata was dead, and if she weren’t, he hoped she soon would be. For the gods? Fuck the gods. He had played puppet long enough; he would take his fate in his own hands. For starters, he would take his wife and son home to be a family, not run around in some senseless conflict.

“We’re going back.” Aichlan said. “We should regroup.”

“I did nae chase this man across the continent just tae give up at the end!” Donough roared. “An’ I daen’t think one such as ye have lost his nerve so late in the chase!”

“I haven’t lost anything!” Aichlan shouted back. “I just…gained some perspective. He won’t bother us so long as we don’t pressure him, I see that now.”

“He killed my people and made us all refugees in oor own home.” Enyo growled. “I cannae let him get away with this.”

“If he destroys Yggdrasil, the whole of Silex will suffer,” Rowena interjected, “it will be darker than the time after the collapse!”

“What the hell happened to ye?” Donough’s expression softened as he approached. “Where were ye?”

Aichlan looked down to his hand and clenched his fist. What did happen to me? He would not serve the Eloi, those arrogant child gods that saw fit to use and abuse him, but certainly he could not give Osric free reign to destroy all he loved. They had used the image of his own dead father to manipulate him, and that alone was unforgivable. Part of him wished Osric would succeed, and kill every last one of the bastards, but the other, more rational half of him knew the consequences were too great.

The gods were self-serving and so amoral as to be one step away from evil, but they did provide safety and stability. Despite his own feelings, Aichlan was unwilling to cast the world into the fires of chaos just for a chance to get back at the Eloi or to crawl out from under their thumb. He had a son now, and a woman whom he loved, one whom he had promised a princess’ wedding too. He could not just crawl away now, not after all that was sacrificed, not after all the lives that were stolen for this cause.

“Where are we?” Aichlan said softly. “And what is Yggdrasil?”

“Alfheim.” Rowena said quickly.

“A big ass tree.” Enyo replied.

“And that’s where Osric is?” Aichlan asked.

Rowena nodded. “I’m sure of it, if not there already, he is on his way.”

Aichlan sighed and stared up into a pinprick of light above. “Alright, hurry up with those birds, you’re leading the way.”

* * *

Moonbeams filtered through the thick canopy as Aichlan lay covered in dirt and leaves. After several hours of wandering the wood he had finally collapsed in exhaustion, it was still unknown if he had slept for hours or days. His head still spun and the ringing in his ears had yet to subside. He barely recalled the harrowing journey through the ancient wood, and felt as if no progress had been made at all.

Aichlan willed himself to sit up, but his body refused to comply. The dreams plagued him again, that old crone with the keys, and those bastard children in their paradise. Recurring nightmares had never been an issue for him, but he couldn’t shake these ones, they were almost like memories, though he felt weak and reality seemed to blur the more he thought on them. He vaguely recalled his death, and wondered if he really had been resurrected, or was simply experiencing some sort of protracted hallucination.

He thought of Fiora, and hoped that she had survived and linked up with the Aes Sidhean military. But as he lay in that silent wood, he doubted he’d be so fortunate. He closed his eyes for what seems like a moment, only to open them again and find himself in pitch blackness.

Aichlan forced himself into a sitting position, and spotted a woman walking about silently on the bed of foliage; her skin was a ghostly white, and held a slight glow. He stood with a slight groan and drew his sword. The figure suddenly went still, still glowing as she turned to face him.

“What are you doing General?” Rowena demanded in a harsh whisper.

Aichlan groaned and leaned back against a tree. “Rowena. What happened?”

“You collapsed and I waited for you to recover.” Rowena approached, a subtle look of concern in her eyes. “You’ve been acting strangely this whole time, are you alright.”

“Where are the others?” Aichlan sheathed his sword. “And I’m fine…”

Rowena looked him up and down, not believing his claim. “I sent them ahead, we were half a day’s journey from a village when you collapsed.”

“They use powerful magic.”

“Who does, General?”

“Osric, that woman he travels with.” Aichlan collapsed, sitting with a deep sigh. “That woman, she is death incarnate.” Aichlan looked up to Rowena with watery eyes. “What can we hope to accomplish against those whose power rival’s gods?”

“Can you stand?” Rowena asked irritably. “We must continue on.

“I am weary Rowena, weary of life and its tribulations. My child was born and I have seen him but once. The woman I love is gods know where and furious with me, and I know not when I will see or embrace her again.”

“Ashe, Ashe is…fine, she understands...” Despite her efforts to sound sincere, Aichlan could tell she was simply humoring him. “Now let’s go, we need to hurry.”

“Where are we staging?” Aichlan asked half-heartedly.

“oh, I am…” Rowena peered at him in confusion. “not staging anywhere…”

“I mean where the devil is everyone?” Aichlan snapped.

“Are you alright general?”

Aichlan sighed; he had obviously offended and frightened the woman. He had forgotten that not everyone in this army was a lifelong soldier. Some were just children or farmers, smiths and miners who lost their homes. Or perhaps it was he who was still out of sorts. The boundary between dream, nightmare, and reality had dissolved completely. He could no longer tell the three apart, nor did he have any real desire to do so anymore.

Aichlan pulled himself to his feet and brushed himself off. “Donough and Enyo, you sent them ahead to scout, correct?”

“Oh! Yes, general, we agreed to meet at a clearing not far from here.” Rowena bit her lip in concern, debating on whether or not to give Aichlan a shoulder to lean upon. “Do you…”

“I will be fine Rowena, please, lead the way.”

Rowena bit back her words of concern, and nodded soberly. “Yes general, please, follow me.”

Rowena glanced over her shoulder as she glided through the maze of trees. Aichlan did his best to walk straight and without a limp, the unforgiving forest took every opportunity to cause him to trip or stumble, as he fumbled carelessly in the dark. Noticing his complications, Rowena slowed, mumbling an apology.

“What happened to you?” Rowena asked, breaking the monotonous silence of the forest. “You seem distant.”

Aichlan swatted a switch that scratched his face as he struggled to keep up. “I think I died…”

“Again?”

Aichlan laughed in spite of himself. “I spoke to the gods. They were pricks, and I won a wrestling match with death herself.”

Rowena glanced back at him, but said nothing further.