Hyrestl dragged his feet through the town of Tayra. The peaks threw their shadows upon the clouds in the setting sun. The rattle of carts and voices of people came to his ears in a muffled mumble.

Someone called out to him. He looked that way by habit, but didn’t see anyone he knew in the crystal lights. He slouched and looked down at his sluggishly plodding feet.

All around him was the bustle of Tayra’s main marketplace. Horses and donkeys drew carts past him, the smell of horse dung mixed with the sharp scent of spiced meats and the softer smell of baking pastries. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he winced from the ache it sent through his whole body.

“Hey, honey! Come on over here! You look like you need a bed to sleep on!”

Hyrestl wearily looked up. A woman smiled warmly as she took his arm.

“Dearie, you’re always so tired when you walk by here! Come in and rest! Look at you! Bags under your eyes, lips bloody and chapped—you’re not young enough to be doing this to yourself!” She started pulling him toward her inn.

“No, I…I can’t. I have to get back.”

“Get back where? You can’t make it through Tarawa Pass at this late hour. Dearie, please, just come in and rest by the fire at least.”

Hyrestl pulled his arm away. He stumbled backward.

“No, I have to get back.”

She called after him, but he quickly shuffled away into the crowd. He passed under a large stone arch. Leaning against it was a giant, twice as tall as the people around him.

Hyrestl blinked, and the giant was gone.

He shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes. He glanced behind him. People were all around. They had lighter complexions and were only a handspan taller than him. Giants didn’t walk these lands. Not like home.

An owl swooped silently over the crowd before flying up into the darkness again.

The hairs of his neck stood on end. He slowed in his step and scanned the crowd. Performers danced and sang to the delight of passersby. Shoppers with baskets on their arms looked at every kind of ware from the far corners of the world. Crystal lamps shone brightly, warding off every shadow.

His attention was caught by a woman and child making their way home, smiling. They came toward him, and as the little girl caught sight of Hyrestl, she waved.

Hyrestl smiled, and his weariness faded from his limbs.

The town around him faded into darkness as he drifted into unconsciousness, and sharp, mottled green mountains rose to take its place. The morning sun shone brightly. Terraces ran up the side of one of the mountains. On top was a small village comprising stone and thatch dwellings.

A little girl laughed and rushed toward him, arms outstretched. Hyrestl caught her and swung her up above his head before settling her in the crook of his arm. She hugged his neck and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Daddy.”

He kissed her cheek. “I love you too, sweetie.”

A woman laughed, and she pecked his cheek. “I made lemon cakes this morning,” she said. She hefted a young boy up onto her hip before he could run away.

Hyrestl returned her kiss and followed her up the steps of the terrace and into the village. The smell of morning baking was carried to them by a humid morning breeze.

They passed through the village and into their home. They all sat down at the table, said their prayers and ate. The little girl bounced up and down as she ate her lemon cake. Suddenly, she dropped it and it fell to the floor. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Hyrestl stopped eating. “I’ve told you to stop bouncing while you eat. Now, pick it up.”

“But…but…” she sobbed.

Hyrestl set his cake down and put her in his lap. He gave her his half-eaten cake, and she looked up at him with teary, red eyes.

“It’s okay. Eat it.”

She took a bite and smiled up at him. Hyrestl brushed away her tears as she bounced on his leg.

He smiled across the table at his wife as she began talking about what needed to be done that day. Her soft voice mixed gently with the calls of birds outside.

After breakfast, he took his little boy out to the terraced fields. They walked together, the little boy holding onto his thumb and he holding the boy’s soft, little hand.

“Outa my way!”

Hyrestl snapped his head up out of his dreaming stupor. The warm green mountains disappeared and were replaced by the bustling town of Tayra again.

A man shoved past him, and Hyrestl stumbled to regain his balance. His eyelids and limbs felt heavy.

He shuffled over to a horse’s trough and splashed his face. He shook his head, trying to clear the drowsiness from his eyes. The cold water revived him a little, and he jogged a little to get his blood pumping.

“Hey! Drunkard!” someone yelled from the crowd. “Ya running to see your mistress?”

The crowd laughed.

Hyrestl only glanced at them and continued on.

The weariness pressed down on him. His pace slowed. Soon, he couldn’t move much faster than a shuffle. He remembered something then and reached into his pocket and pulled out a pin. He pricked himself with it and felt the weariness recede a little. He picked up his pace to a quick walk. His body ached with each step.

He could see the entrance of Tarawa Pass now. The tunnel towered above the town. Angular designs were etched into the smoothed stone around the great doorway.

He scratched at his unshaven face as he looked at it. Someone bumped into him.

“Watch where you’re going!” Hyrestl snapped.

The offender kept walking.

Hyrestl passed by a side street, then stopped, backtracked and looked into it. The street meandered up the hill straight to the Tarawa entrance. A shortcut.

He hurried up its dark, cobblestone steps. This street didn’t have merry dancers or singers. The shop fronts were cast in dim torchlight, and a sickly sweet smell affronted his nose. The shrill warbling of a Kaso passed above on the rooftops. Hyrestl glanced up, but it had already flown away. The dark street intercepted the busy thoroughfare again and Hyrestl had to fight across the current of the crowd.

“Return,” a voice whispered.

Hyrestl’s breath caught. He looked wildly around.

There, standing among the crowd was a cloaked form as black as the darkest shadow. Silvery threads wove across it like spun moonlight. The threads came from all edges of the cloak to gather at the back of the hood, where they twisted together with the shadow to create a long, slender braid. It coiled at the figure’s waist like a whip.

No one paid the dark figure any heed. It was a half handspan shorter than most men in the crowd, and they walked through it as if it were made of mist.

The form reached out a smooth slender hand toward Hyrestl.

“Come.”

Hyrestl gave a cry and bolted through the crowd, pushing people out of his way and ran into the side street again. He ran until he was out of breath and exhausted. He slumped with his shoulder against a wall in the street’s shadow and panted heavily.

Dark figures detached themselves from shadows close by.

“Ibrah, you take the right. Eis, left. Everyone else, block the street.”

Hyrestl blinked as they approached him.

“Heh, heh! Looks like he’s drunk or something.” The man kicked Hyrestl in the belly, and he crumpled to the ground.

One of the muggers chuckled. “This is too easy.” He reached into the victim’s pocket.

Hyrestl stabbed him with the pin he’d been carrying, and the man jerked his hand away and cursed.

“Hey!” The other man kicked Hyrestl in the ribs so that he gasped.

Soon they were all around him, kicking him. He covered his head and scrunched into a ball.

The light from the torches winked in and out as they jostled around him.

Hyrestl yelled. Again everything faded. This time the town was replaced with rain in a forest at night. Lightning forked among the branches, and men screamed. His pulse throbbed in his head as he swung his sword.

He gave out commands to his squad to flee. Metal struck metal in the inky blackness.

Hyrestl felt his neck prickle even before the lightning struck. He leaped away, falling to the ground, and lightning flashed where he had been standing.

He stood and tasted iron. He was bleeding.

An enemy rushed at him from out of the darkness. He cut the man down and turned, looking around himself. Lightning flashed again and revealed a shadowy form standing among the tree trunks. The lightning was reflected in silvery threads across its outline. A stab of fear lanced through Hyrestl’s heart.

“Sae!” a man screamed.

Hyrestl whipped around toward the shout.

“It’s a Sae! Retrea–” Lightning forked through the trees. Everything appeared to freeze in the sudden light—the drops of rain, the trees swaying in the wind.

Hyrestl caught a glimpse of a knight in full plate armor, lightning forking from his hand. It pierced through the dim figure of a man running in midstride. Then there was darkness and silence.

A war cry sounded from behind Hyrestl, and he spun. There was only the darkness of night and the pattering of rain. Water dripped from his hair into his face.

The sky flashed again. The Sae knight stood still with Hyrestl’s men scattered about the ground. The darkness descended again, and Hyrestl trembled.

The lightning crackled and flamed, arching over the pale faces of his comrades and their blades. The bolts didn’t immediately dissipate but rather lingered upon the forms of his dead men. The arcs of light illuminated their forms as they stood shakily and turned toward him, their weapons leveled at him. Among them stood the Sae in his gleaming armor, his arm upraised with lightning as if he had pulled Hyrestl’s men from the ground himself.

The lightning receded, and they were immersed in darkness.

Hyrestl screamed and flung himself at them. He ducked by instinct as lightning forked from the Sae’s hand, and the storm flashed all around them.

The forms of his comrades were revealed for only a moment, so Hyrestl moved with the rhythm of the light and timed his blows to strike in the moments of darkness. In a world of confusion, his sword struck iron, flesh, bone, and heart. The world alternated from jittery to still images. His heart was torn with each stroke of his sword.

A blow struck his weapon from his hands, and his arms dropped to his sides. Rain dripped from his fingertips in the darkness.

A mighty roar greater than thunder shook the ground. A gout of fire consumed the sky and trees. Hyrestl’s skin blistered from the heat as the flames evaporated the rain in an instant. The smell of ash and hot iron was immediate.

Something large struck him and picked him up into the air. Massive claws encircled his torso.

He passed a treetop in his flight. Upon it stood the form darker than shadow. Reddish-orange fire was reflected by silvery threads in the shadow upon one side, and the other side reflected the cold blue of lightning.

Hyrestl screamed and flailed his arms. His hand struck a wall and he blinked, waking suddenly from his dream.

The town surrounded him again. At his feet lay six bloodied men. In his hand he held a bloodied knife.

He looked around to see shopkeepers with mouths agape in horror. A crowd had gathered at the street’s entrance. Among them stood the shadowy form.

He ran, ran toward the Tarawa Pass with everything he had. When he reached the top of the hill, his strength gave way, and he stumbled to a shuffle. He could see the gate in front of him, open wide and inviting.

The two guards stationed at the door pointed at him and advanced. They were saying something, but he couldn’t make it out. They had spears hefted over their shoulders like they weren’t worried.

He stopped. His feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. His eyes slowly blinked. He stood, swaying a little. It was all he could do to keep his eyelids from drooping.

He could see his wife and children coming toward him from the tunnel. His little girl pointed excitedly and started running. His wife smiled and waved.

“I…I have to get back home…” he mumbled and took one more step.

Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. A tear streaked down his cheek.

The guards reached him, and one crouched down and looked at Hyrestl’s sagging head. “He fell asleep with his eyes open again, poor drunkard.”

The other shrugged. “Ol’ Bumble-dum was overdue to show up again sometime. Hey, you owe me! I bet he’d turn up on the twenty-second, and here he is on the twenty-third.”

The other guard got up and grumped. “Fine, here’s your two rani.”

“Two? You bet me three rani, you lyin’ cheater!”

The other guard shrugged. “Worth a try… Hey,” he pointed to Hyrestl’s cuff “is that blood?”

The first bettor leaned forward. “Sure ’nuff! Hey, look at poor Bumble-dum’s face. Looks like he took a beating.”

“Eh, isn’t the first time. His wounds don’t look too serious. Now, I’m going to bet he doesn’t start sleepwalking this time. I’ll go get Miss Wida—”

“Now, hold on! You gotta give him a chance! Here, your three rani I just won. I’ll bet he does start walkin’ in the next five minutes.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

They leaned on their spears and waited.

It was nearly five minutes later when a tremble went through Hyrestl’s limbs.

“O-ho! You owe me six rani now!”

“Ah, shucks.” The loser of the bet dug in his pocket and fished out the silver coins and handed them over.

“Come on, let’s get back to our posts before the captain yells at us.”

The two men returned to the gate as Hyrestl heaved himself up and, with one heavy step after another, turned and starting walking with a deep slouch and hung head.

His breaths came slow and shallow. His face was slack, and his eyes stared at nothing. He dreamed of only one thing. He walked down a cobble road with a shadow leading him at his side. Darkness was all around, and his home was behind him.