Dream of Legends Read online

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  Copyright © 2010 by Stephen Zimmer

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be copied or transmitted in any form, electronic or otherwise, without express written consent of the publisher or author.

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  Cover art and illustrations: Matthew Perry

  Cover art and illustrations in this book Copyright © 2010 Matthew Perry & Seventh Star Press, LLC.

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  Editor: Karen Leet

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  Published by Seventh Star Press, LLC.

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  ISBN Number 9780983108627

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  Library of Congress Control Number: 2010915946

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  Seventh Star Press

  www.seventhstarpress.com

  [email protected]

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  Publisher’s Note:

  Dream of Legends is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are the product of the author’s imagination, used in fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, places, locales, events, etc.

  are purely coincidental.

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  Printed in the United States of America

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  First Edition

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  DEDICATION

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  To the One Who transcends the boundaries of time and space, without beginning and without end.

  To my mother and father, who always encouraged me to follow the road that my dreams beckoned me toward.

  To each and every individual who is not afraid to dream, and then to act upon those dreams.

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  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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  To my editor on Dream of Legends, Karen Leet: I thank you so much for coming along with me on this literary journey, in accepting the task of becoming my editor on this book and series. Your meticulous analysis and insights really helped me to progress, and saved me from myself more than once. I can’t say enough how much I appreciate all the time and effort that you put in on Dream of Legends, and I really hope that you are proud of the results. Whatever might happen, know that you will always get very last ounce of effort from me to do my best as a writer.

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  Matt Perry: You continue to amaze me, as your artistic wizardry reaches ever greater heights. Thanks for putting up with me and all of my weird realms yet again, and I hope that my literary worlds have offered you a fun place to play and explore with your artwork. This is another step forward, on a long journey, and the body of artwork that you have produced for both of my series is evolving into something unique and special in the realms of fantasy. Hang in there, as the best things in life do not come easy!

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  Mom: I thank you as always for instilling me with a love of fantasy and the courage to go after my dreams. It has been far from smooth or easy, and I know that you have had to endure some difficulties when I’ve stumbled along the way, but I have managed to keep moving forward, and I could not have done any of this without you.

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  My reader-friends: As I have always said, without readers, an author can’t exist, and I am so fortunate to have such a wonderful, growing family of loyal reader-friends. A friend is one who helps someone achieve their dreams, and each and every one of you helps me towards mine, which is why you are not just readers in my eyes, but friends. I will work myself beyond the limits to bring you the best possible books and stories, and I hope that you see that you have chosen an author whose dedication to you, the reader (and friend), is paramount, absolute, and never taken for granted.

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  “Maybe the wildest dreams are but the needful preludes of the truth.”

  -Alfred Lord Tennyson

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  “Courage is found in unlikely places.”

  -J. R. R. Tolkien

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  “Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret?

  There are better things ahead than

  any we leave behind.”

  -C.S. Lewis

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  “Achieving life is not the equivalent

  of avoiding death.”

  -Ayn Rand

  SECTION I

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  AETHELSTAN

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  While a few shreds of clouds scudded across the night sky, there was enough luminescence for the company with Aethelstan to navigate the woods back to their encampment.

  The Saxans had traveled in silence, with the exception of the snorts and steps of the horses themselves, as well as the metallic jingles and clinks from chain mail, and other metal trappings such as buckles, brooches, and elements of harness.

  They returned roughly the same way that they had come, taking advantage of one of the only recognizable trails crossing through the area. Intersecting with the trail just about a league and a half from their encampment, the Saxans were able to pick up their pace.

  At any other time, Aethelstan would have enjoyed the journey itself. The soft moonlight cascading down through the trees, spreading deep shadows and tranquil, bluish light, created a beautiful scene to all sides.

  A silken breeze drifted through the trees, lightly caressing their leaves. Occasionally, the riders heard the sounds of forest animals jostling about the brush deeper within the woods.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Aethelstan neglected to take any pleasure in the peaceable surroundings, remaining alert to them only for any signs of potential danger. As there was no conversation among the riders, he was left to wrestle with his mind all throughout the travel back.

  He regretted that his two young boys, Wyglaf and Wystan, could not be with him to witness the woodland beauty, in a time of peace. Even choked by troubling thoughts, he could still imagine their excited smiles as they trotted beside him, holding their new bows, accompanying their father on a hunting sojourn in the forest.

  It was never the kill of the hunt that mattered during such a time, he realized. Rather, it was the time spent with his boys that was the most important element of all. It did not matter if they returned empty-handed, as long as the bonds between Aethelstan and his sons grew in strength.

  Both of his sons had been given a bit of a reprieve in their fostering with his brother, Aethelhere. Wyglaf and Wystan had been returned back to Bergton the year before, as Aethelhere had been summoned by King Alcuin to aid with the assembling of the Saxan fleet. The honor to Aethelhere in the given task was tremendous, though it had also provided for a welcome, unexpected gift to Aethelstan as well.

  Aethelstan had felt great relief over the turn of fate. The powerful thane had always envied the fact that the villagers and commoners of the land could enjoy watching their sons grow into men without interruption. Greater thanes, reeves, ealdormen, and kings were not afforded all of the treasures found in the world, he somberly realized, and regarded the unexpected truncating of his sons’ fostering period as a tacit blessing from the All-Father.

  He wondered how his two sons were faring in their first days adapting to life as the men of the household. His heart lightened, and a grin came to his face, as he imagined them conspiring with one of their bondservants, a big lad named Gyric, as they maneuvered to go fishing for eels under the pretext of helping him manage the swine herd in the forest.

  They would proba
bly concoct anything to get away from their uncle’s eight-year-old son, Wynoth, who Aethelstan now had the joys of fostering. Little Wynoth, even Aethelstan had to admit, was indeed a bit of an annoyance. The young fellow was insatiable in his curiosity, asking questions about virtually everything. No topic was off limits, no matter how embarrassing, irreverent, or plainly boring.

  It was not necessarily a bad trait, but could be a bit cumbersome at times. Even Father Wilfrid, who was always pleased to see a young and enthusiastic intellect, laughingly admitted that he had finally met his match.

  Aethelhere, with a mirthful smile, had warned Aethelstan of it. Sibling pranks continued into later life, Aethelstan mused with a broader grin as he thought of his brother’s look on the day that he had delivered Wynoth into his care.

  Aethelstan laughed to himself, thinking of his brother and all the years that they had shared. Aethelhere had always been tenacious when the two brothers had grown up together, but now he was getting far more subtle and clever in his harassments of Aethelstan, working even through youthful surrogates that were the blood of his blood.

  The reflections upon his two boys led to thoughts of his daughter, Wynflaed and his wife Gisela, and the sheer happiness that he felt whenever he returned to their hall at the end of a long day. Their warm affection was enough to erase the fatigue of even the most trying of times, his cares and troubles in administering a large burh vanishing in their hugs and smiles.

  The weaving of tapestries was a subject that normally would bore him to the point of tears, yet he could not help remembering one particular moment a couple of months back.

  His family had been gathered in the hall for the evening meal, taking a delight in a rich repast, complete with a recently-hunted wild boar. After a little conversation, Gisela had brought up how Wynflaed was showing a particular aptitude for working with gold and silver threads.

  The genuine thrill in Wynflaed’s cherubic face, as Gisela commended her growing skill, negated the dull aspects of tapestry weaving in Aethelstan’s eyes. Aethelstan had then remarked how he looked forward to having one of her works hanging in the longhall, for all guests of honor to see. The little girl had beamed joyously in the recognition, matching the radiance of the sun in the pure gleam in her eyes. That look of genuinely pure happiness was a beacon to his spirit, to be remembered whenever he felt himself sinking too low.

  If there was anything that he missed most of all, it was the satisfied feeling that came over him as he drifted off to sleep in Gisela’s arms, within their private partition at the end of the hall.

  He savored the thoughts of those restful nights with his wife in his own bedding, his three healthy children sleeping nearby in the hall, just past the tapestry that was hung at night to afford some privacy. Beyond them, his throng of unmarried household warriors and retainers slumbered along the sides of the main body of the hall. It was a most pleasant state of being, with his family and trusted warriors all together, under one roof.

  Being separated, especially in light of the dark times that were sweeping over the land, only served to magnify the worries that he felt for all the members of his family.

  He came out of his silent reverie with the sounds of sentries abruptly calling out, “Halt, and identify yourselves!”

  Riding close to Aethelstan, Cenferth called back, “Sons of Saxany, may the blood be strong once again.”

  A couple of figures bearing lances moved out from the trees in front of the detachment of riders, with visibly relaxed postures in response to the utterance of correct passage words.

  “I trust that you have had few disturbances?” Cenferth asked them.

  “No, no disturbances. Did your travels go well?” one of the sentries asked politely.

  “All are safe,” Cenferth replied.

  “I give thanks to the All-Father. ‘Tis a blessed word you bring,” the sentry responded, giving a slight bow to them.

  “Good man, has anyone arrived since we departed,” Aethelstan queried, bringing his horse up alongside Cenferth’s.

  The sentry nodded. “Yes, my lord. Some have indeed arrived back to camp since I was posted. They say we have sky steeds in the camp now, though I have not seen them yet with my own eyes. I would not leave my charge here, of course.”

  “And that is why Saxan blood will indeed be strong again,” Aethelstan complimented the man, smiling, and already feeling hopeful at the tidings from the sentry. He remarked to Cenferth, loud enough for the guard to hear clearly, “Our guard’s words were chosen with a prophet’s vision, I believe.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” the sentry replied in gratitude, giving another bow as Aethelstan spurred his horse forward.

  Aethelstan’s hopes rose even further as he heard the distinctive whines and grunts of the stout Himmerosen. A number of campfires were lit around the campsite, and many Saxans rose up to cheerfully greet the returning party.

  Aethelstan could see the exuberance at his party’s return, and knew that the men in the camp had been harboring great worries over them since they had first set out.

  He paused for a moment to give some instructions to Cenferth, to convey the word of what they had seen during their journey to the other thanes. His body was tired and sore from the foray, but his spirit was buoyed by the notion that Edmund had finally arrived into the camp.

  As he neared his own bell-shaped tent, he saw the outlines of the large sky steeds. He had always thought they resembled a leaner version of a war dog in their physical look. Though not quite as broad in proportion, they did bear a close likeness in the shape of their their heads and proportions.

  Each time that Aethelstan saw the Himmerosen, he remembered the thrill of flying through the air while astride the wondrous creatures. He was no sky warrior, but, in the past, Edmund had guided him up above on a small number of airborne sojourns.

  The sensation of flight was incredible, and there were times that he could not help but envy the trained sky riders such as Edmund. The feeling of freedom and the perception of a much more magical, broader world was indelible in the act of soaring across the heavens.

  For such truly formidable creatures, the trained Himmerosen tended to have rather gentle dispositions, and were not dangerous at all to work with, or be around. Simply riding them was not much different from riding a horse, though mastering the skills of a sky rider, and the use of weapons while in flight, required considerable training.

  A couple of the creatures turned and whined playfully at Aethelstan as he walked towards them, not entirely unlike his large dogs that ran all about the grounds within Bergton.

  “They are a bit too tired for a ride this evening,” commented a friendly, and quite familiar, voice.

  Aethelstan glanced to the left. A man of about his own age was striding toward him. His head was uncovered, and his dark hair tossed about in the crisp wind. He was clad simply in a cloak, tunic, and trousers, bearing only a sword that was sheathed at his waist.

  “Edmund, Edmund. You took your time, did you not?” Aethelstan quipped, a grin sprouting upon his face, as his former trepidations at his friend’s long absence fled.

  A warm smile spread across Edmund’s face as he drew closer. He had a thick moustache underneath his sharp nose, and his eyes sparkled with a merry glitter.

  “Still not used to the beard,” Edmund teased, as he stepped forward and gave a fervent embrace to Aethelstan.

  “It does take some getting used to, that I confess,” Aethelstan replied, laughing, reaching up and rubbing the growth that had been there for only a small portion of his life span, covering cheeks, chin, and around his mouth. “And I am far too used to your bare chin, but admittedly it is still good to see you. I was growing very worried.”

  “You sound like a parent. Though I know that you are a good one,” Edmund replied, chuckling. “Worried about me? I cannot wait until I make Wystan or Wyglaf a sky rider. Then we will see about worry.”

  “You will make me grow old before my time, I fear,” Aet
helstan said, laughing again. His face then grew more serious. “But I really was a bit worried.”

  “We traveled here safely enough,” Edmund replied, his own expression turning more somber. “You probably already know of enemy sky warriors appearing far too often over our land.”

  “Yes, I have heard of them,” Aethelstan said. “And we have found where the enemy force is likely to come through. If the enemy tries a more difficult route, we could defend against them with ease. I have just returned from scouting these areas myself.”

  “You should leave it to your friends in the sky,” Edmund remarked, an edge underlying his words.

  Edmund’s expression reflected some agitation, and Aethelstan knew that his friend was not thrilled about him having scouted the terrain in person. Aethelstan was the thane of greatest rank in the forces defending the borders of Wessachia, in addition to the deep, abiding frienship that he had with Edmund.

  “If you were ever around,” Aethelstan retorted.

  “We had a muster point to reach with Aldric. He takes over six hundred sky riders to the defense on the plains, maybe seven hundred,” Edmund informed him. “We were making certain of our forces, as well as our equipment and plans.”

  “So how many have come with you?” Aethelstan asked.

  “We have around fifty here, and that is much better than I expected. Sky warriors are badly wanted at the plains, and I did not expect Aldric to spare so many for the defenses here,” Edmund said.

  “Then caution is to be advised, with smaller numbers,” Aethelstan replied evenly.

  Edmund grinned. “Caution?”

  “I fear you will never cease to be a little wayward and reckless in your methods, Edmund. But heed me closely in this,” Aethelstan said, his countenance becoming stern, and his voice growing firmer. “We have grown up together, and fought together. Yet we have never faced anything like the times that are upon us now. Nothing like it, ever. We have to be very, very careful.”

  Edmund’s grin dimmed, and his face reflected his friend’s grave countenance. “I need no explanation. I knew what we are facing, the moment that I saw the look upon Aldric’s face. He is like the rock of a mountain … and has the presence of one too. But I know without a doubt that I saw a flicker of fear within his eyes, as he related the word that has come to us of the approaching enemy forces.”