Authors: Usman Ijaz
Then Adrian's eyes went to the large city at the
center of the field of flowers, the city that the road led to. Like the field
spreading around it, the city was fascinating to behold. Tall, pale yellow
walls, seeming to be of a whole structure rather than bricks, stretched into
the bright sky. Behind those walls rose small towers, some broken and few
standing whole. Their conical tops were in an array of different colors, from
red tiles to green and blue. Noticing the broken towers, Adrian’s eyes wandered
to the broken gates leading into the city.
"Asgar," Connor breathed.
"The Field of the Dead," Leah
whispered.
Adrian barely heard them. He watched the city in
a daze, and remembered the pain and misery of his dreams.
Alexis was the first to get over their stupor.
"Well, if we came to see it then let's see it," he said, and heeled
his horse forward. Adrian and Connor followed. A small flock of robins rose
abruptly from the field as they passed near.
Adrian studied the flowers all around the
road, and remembered Leah’s words just moments past. "Why is it called the
Field of the Dead?"
"None of this used to be here,"
Leah explained." It was all bare country like we rode through most of
yesterday. When Asgar fell, its inhabitants murdered, it rained for a fortnight
straight. After the hard rain these memory-blossoms began to bloom where none
of their kind had been seen before."
"What -- what happened to the bodies?"
Adrian asked.
She looked away from him, disquiet plain on her
face.
"They were taken from the city and dragged
outside," Alexis said after a while. "I suppose there they still lie
today, beneath the flowers and beneath the ground."
Adrian
looked at the field of flowers all around him, and imagined all the bodies that
must be hidden beneath. He looked away, feeling sick.
As they drew closer he saw other signs that
mired the city’s beauty. The cracks and tears in the walls from siege engines
and cannons became more plain. They rode to the broken gates and the large
archway. The tall wooden gates had not been made to keep out enemies. One lay
on the ground, battered and broken, and the other leaned aslant on its hinges,
as if wishing to join its comrade on the ground. Their color, a deep green with
gold patterns, had faded long ago. Looking past the one remaining door, Adrian
could see that many of the buildings had been reduced to rubble, and many more
were charred black in areas. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see any more of it,
but they had come so far, and he meant to bear it through. Some part of him
felt he had to witness this, to make himself truly realize the extent of the
brutality that had occurred here.
Connor and he followed Alexis past the broken
gate. As the shadow of the archway spread over them, Adrian abruptly felt the
whole world shift and spin. He heard Connor's hoarse, alarmed cry, and then saw
the ground rush up to meet him.
1
Adrian felt the rough kiss of the earth on his
face and pushed himself wearily to his feet. He wiped at the dirt smeared on
his left cheek as he glanced about, and stopped abruptly. He stood in a field
of barley that stretched endlessly in every direction. The wind rolling across
the land brought the smell of barley to his nostrils, and he breathed it in
deeply. He chanced to glance at the sun, but it stood right overhead and shone
brightly. Eyes feeling dazzled, he returned his gaze to the country surrounding
him. The same breeze that blew his dirty-blond hair out of his face moved the wheat
field in a calm ritual, as though a large hand brushed the stalks. Adrian
turned full circle, and could see nothing but the endless field in every
direction. He couldn’t figure out where he was, or how he’d gotten there.
Then a shape in the sky caught his attention.
At first he mistook it to be a bird, but then realized
that no bird he had ever seen moved so freely. The shape in the sky moved with
the grace of a butterfly, constantly shifting track and flying in zigzag
patterns, large wings riding the winds. Then he saw that it was a woman. Her
long golden hair flowed behind her as her wings rose and fell like white
propellers, carrying her across the sky. She flew with a beauty that was
breathtaking, darting through milky clouds and emerging into unfiltered sunlight.
She flew as though free of some bounds that he would forever be held by. It was
as if Adrian watched a dance in the air. For the moment, his worries of waking
in this strange place were forgotten. The beautiful white wings beat against
the currents of air and the woman rose higher, as though attempting to break
free of this world. Adrian thought he had never seen anything so free.
Then the wings seemed to fail and the woman fell
like a stone.
He watched on in dismay as the figure rushed
towards the ground. Some part of him expected the wings to come back to life
and carry her back into the sky, but they remained limp. The woman plummeted to
the earth.
Adrian rushed towards where she had fallen. He
worried at what he would find - a shattered body - but he rushed to her
nonetheless. He fought his way through the barley, pushing stalks out of his
way and trying not to let his feet catch and trip him.
When he came closer to where he believed she had
fallen, he saw a single pale feather snagged on a stalk. He wanted to groan at
the sight of it. He rushed to the source of it. He came tearing out of the
barley and into a small clearing. The woman stood across from him, her back
turned to him and her face upturned to the sky. She stood wingless, and he saw feathers
drifting all around the clearing, carried on the breeze. At the sound of him
she turned to face him, and smiled. Adrian felt numbness spread through his
entire being at the sight of the woman from his dreams, the woman he felt
certain was his mother.
“There you are,” she said, her voice soft and
filled with warmth.
Adrian could do nothing but stare at her. With
the bright day illuminating her before him, and free of the blood and dirt and
wounds he had seen her covered in so many times in his nightmares, she looked
even more beautiful than he had imagined. Her golden hair cascaded past her
shoulders, and gray eyes met his out of a proud face. She was dressed in a
plain dress, but it only seemed to accent her beauty.
“You ... you fell,” Adrian said. He felt as
though words should have been pouring out of him in a flood, demanding to know
why he had been haunted by such dreadful dreams, but the words seemed to have
dried up.
“Yes. We all fell.” She rushed forward then and
hugged him tightly to her. “My dear Adrian.”
For a moment Adrian felt too startled to do
anything, then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her as well. The clean
and wonderful scent of flowers off the prairie filled him. He almost felt
reluctant to let her go when she pulled back. She studied him proudly.
“Come,” she said as she took hold of his hand.
“You must see your home.”
She began to lead him away through the field.
Adrian let her lead him, feeling dazed. It wasn’t long before they stepped out
onto the edge of a road. A wagon drawn by a pony went lumbering by. Adrian
stared at the wagon driver as his mother led him in the opposite direction.
“Lysa,” he said abruptly, and she turned to look
at him. “Uncle Jon said your name was Lysa.”
She smiled at him, a smile that showed all the
affection she held for him. “Your uncle is a great man.”
Adrian picked up his step to match hers. He let
his hand rest in hers. He attempted to sort his thoughts, but they escaped any
attempt of orderliness. “Why did you send me those horrible dreams?” he asked
her at last. He stared up at her until she looked down and met his gaze. He saw
hurt and shame clearly in her eyes, but mixed with a strong resolve.
“You had to know.”
“They were horrible. They ate away at me every
moment of every day, and I couldn’t stop them. I --” Adrian stopped, aware that
he was on the verge of tears.
Lysa stared ahead as she spoke. “Yes, they were
horrible, but you had to know what happened, to prepare you for the hand that
fate would deal you.”
“You mean the Source?”
“Yes, and--”
“Why me?” Adrian demanded suddenly, surprised at
his own vehemence. “I can’t be the last.” An odd sadness filled him as he spoke
the words, fearing the answer.
“No, you are not,” Lysa said gravely. “But who
else does it leave if some will try to avenge loved ones gone to dust, and
others further their own ambition, while some simply ignore the need? I am
sorry, my son, but it had to be you.”
For a while they walked in silence as Adrian
pondered her words. At last he asked, “Where are the others?”
“I do not know.” She stopped him then and knelt
before him to meet his gaze. “Believe me, Adrian, if there was anyone else who
could be trusted with the task, you would never have been brought into this.
But you are still pure of heart. You have not been raised to fear and despise
the humans around you as many others have.”
“I ... I feel as though I'm by myself.” The
words seemed dragged from him, but he knew they were true. Even with Connor and
Alexis accompanying him he felt half a stranger.
Lysa’s voice was pained. “You must bear the
loneliness, Adrian, and pray that a time may come when you do not have to feel
alone.”
Adrian looked away from her, not wanting to
voice the strong words that came to his mind then. His mother must have seen
the reluctance on his face, for she asked him what was wrong.
“How can I --” He struggled to find the right
words. “Why should I risk everything to save those who killed you? I think
about it every day ... mother. Why shouldn’t they suffer?” He was caught up in
his anger, but simply calling her mother brought a strong joy to his heart.
Lysa’s eyes bore into his for what seemed the
longest time. “Will you hold them all accountable for what their ancestors did?
And what of those who resisted the Mad Emperor, will you doom them as well,
Adrian?” She searched his face. “No. I see your choice clearly, and I believe
you do as well. You ask me these questions, but yet you know that you will find
the Source if for no other reason than that it is the right thing to do. Even
if you hate these people, you will still carry out your duty. Is this not
true?”
Adrian frowned at her words. “But ... but they
don’t deserve it!” he shouted at last, relieved to be rid of those words before
they choked him.
Lysa’s gaze remained warm. “And is that up to
you to decide, Adrian? Do you have it in you to decide the fate of an entire
world? Will you be God, then?”
“No,” Adrian cried immediately, alarmed. “But
....”
“Do you stop to think what your father would
have thought of you? Or do you forget his bloodlines? If you have, then I bid
you now turn and walk away.”
“My ... father? I never knew him.”
“As you never knew me, Adrian, but yet here we
are. Your father loved you, and he still loves you. And I feel that whatever
choice you make he will still hold some love for you in his heart ... but I
cannot be like him. You are my son, but who are you if you turn your back on
all that is your ancestry?”
Adrian looked at her, feeling an odd mixture of
emotions stir within him. “How can you so quickly forgive what they did to
you?” he demanded. Cold Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I watched them murder
you! Every night I watched them murder you and hundreds of others! How can you
forgive them, mother?”
Lysa smiled wearily at him. “In time, I hope you
come to realize that only through forgiveness can peace ever be found.” She
took his head in both of her slender hands and pulled him forward to place a
gentle kiss upon his brow. “Whatever decision you make will be yours to make.
But I know I do not want to spend this time that is given to us arguing with
you. Come, you must see your home.” She brushed away the tears on his cheeks
and took hold of his hand once more.
As they walked, Adrian began to feel at a
distance even from his mother. He couldn’t understand why she was willing to
forget so quickly what had happened. Perhaps it was that he had been witness to
the brutality so many nights, but he couldn’t understand her reasoning. She
seemed to sense the hopelessness within him, for she began to direct their
conversation to other matters.
“Did you know that we were here before all the
others, Adrian? Before the Northmen came from Naban and before the Westerners
came from their islands. It is why they call us the Old People. They came from
the sea, and slowly at first and then rapidly they began to spread across the
land. They fought their wars over territory, while we knew that the land
belonged to no one. Their warfare drew our people in at times, and it seemed
soon that their ways had replaced ours. There was no longer any such thing as
taking as need requested it, but rather wanting everything that desire
demanded. The land changed as well. It was no longer our land soon, but theirs,
and we were the outsiders. But we never stopped thinking of ourselves as the
people of the land, and thus I hope it forever remains.”