The Sleeper Wakes second sample
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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!”
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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.
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“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.”
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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.”
#
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“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.”
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“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.”
81 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
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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
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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
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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
85 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.”
86 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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…”
87 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
This land is far worse than I imagined. Now that I’m
here, it is clear to me… we are unprepared.
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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
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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
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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
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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,
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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
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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.
93 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
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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.
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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!”
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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.
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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?”
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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
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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.
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“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
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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.
101 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
These people have deep passions. They have hopes,
dreams, a longing for more. But their eyes, their minds
are blind…
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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
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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
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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.
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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
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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.”
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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
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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.”
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Sarah looked around. “Well… Do you have any
students?”
“Yes,” the bard smiled proudly. “You.”
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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…
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.”
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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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.
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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
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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.
127 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
128 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
129 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
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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.”
131 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
“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.”
132 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
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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.”
134 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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?”
135 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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,
136 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
137 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
#
138 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
“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?”
139 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
140 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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?”
141 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
142 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
143 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
144 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
145 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
146 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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!
147 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.”
148 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
149 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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
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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
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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!”
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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
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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
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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
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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,
156 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
157 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
158 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
-From the Diary of Perwaldd,
Bard of the Aird Righ
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
159 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
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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
161 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
162 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
#
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
163 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.”
164 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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?”
165 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
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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.”
#
167 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.”
168 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
169 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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
170 Edwards / The Sleeper Wakes /
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.
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