Echoes of the Dream

Bret ZawilskiI’ve been named a thief, a wanderer, a scoundrel, and a murderer.From birth, Fate has woven a treacherous path for my life, one I wouldwish on no other. Exiled from the lands of the Pact before manhood with thetwin sigils of the Roth’Aman seared into the flesh of my hands, I’ve spentyears wandering alone through the desolate plains. In those lands, onelearned survival quickly, else one learned nothing more.I claimed my first life in that chaotic realm, that of a man who wouldhave done me the same favor in an instant. I could have barely witnessed17 spans, but age never mattered to those desperate enough to live as wedid. It certainly never mattered to the man who hunted me. On the darkestnights, I can still feel his warm breath on my face and the icy chill of hisdagger running through the scar spanning my left side.He would have gutted me like an animal and left my corpse to rot inthe brush running alongside the road. It would have been as easy as that,but in that moment the change claimed my soul. I remember little else, butfor the screams that followed, and that night I gained my true name, Kessith,and forsook the last remnants of my old life as the flavor of blood filled myspirit.And yet Fate had such strange ways of repaying its debts. The onlydestiny I felt in my future was an early death at the hands of another manlike me. But I must remind myself that Fate chooses its own course, and twoyears later, on the night I stumbled into Devarre half-starved and crazy, Ifound myself ensnared by its Will.

Chapter One

A Shadow of Purpose

It was nearly autumn. I could feel it in the chill breeze that swept downout of the mountains into the Shield Valley. My hands, even gloved, feltnumb and dead at my sides. It was instinct that drove me forward, morethan any manner of directed will. I could smell something on the wind, and itset my stomach to roaring.Dimly I knew there was a village ahead, a tiny place that I’d glimpsedon occasion as I’d tried to force my way across the barrier and into the Pactlands. That had been years ago, and I hadn’t been this far south since.What was the point? It was dangerous being this close to civilization, butfood had become scarce to the north, and what choice was left to me? Ilived as a hunted creature in those days, scurrying through the woods silentand unseen. I’d already lost count of the number of times my life had beenthreatened. It hardly seemed to matter since I was still alive. That was myplan for each day.I’d lived with an empty stomach in the past, but I could feel newsensations tearing through my stomach. Though it was a bright day, theworld darkened and blurred, the tall trees fading into a murky backgroundwhile all that remained clear was the road beneath my feet. I realized thecold was a blessing. Without it, I doubt I could have found the strength tocarry myself so far.Sounds kept drifting outward from the trees on each side of the road. They were ominous sounds, the kind I always kept alert for. Footsteps,perhaps. Patience, though. Again, a rustle came from the underbrush, but Ifeigned ignorance. Silently I slipped a dagger into my hand, releasing it fromthe sheath hidden within my sleeve. The rustling started again, and I turned, snarling wildly and flinging theknife with all my strength. It sailed off into the murky shadows, but I didn’tpause. Charging off the road, I was determined I would kill the bastard

before he claimed me. It didn’t matter that my vision was blurred and mybalance skewed. Not until my feet caught upon a fallen branch and sent mesprawling onto my stomach in the dirt. Desperately, I scrambled to get backto my feet, but my legs refused.I was helpless and alone, and the fear took me. I didn’t want to die.On all fours, I crawled back toward the road and toward the sunlight where Icould at least somewhat see. Each second I feared I would feel a knife sliceinto my back, but it never came. When I reached the road, I turned and sat,expecting to see a grinning face greeting me. But all I saw was the murkyoutline of the trees.“Ho, traveler!” The unfamiliar voice startled me enough that I slipped lose my secondand final dagger. I almost blindly threw it toward the sound, but some lastvestiges of sanity made me look first.“Are you alright?” The man was dressed in a dirt-stained brown tunicand carried a fishing rod across one shoulder. For a moment I was horriblysuspicious. I’d been fooled before by strangers who acted as friends.“Fine,” I growled. But after another attempt to regain my feet, I had toadmit that I was far from fine.“Let me help,” he walked over quickly. It spooked me, but there wasno apprehension in his movements. If this man was truly hunting me, thenhe would certainly be slightly more cautious.He came behind me and lifted me by the waist with almost no effort.Could I have wasted away that much already? “You look pretty rough. Whathappened?”I gave no answer. Nothing my addled mind could create would havesufficed.“Are you headed to Devarre?” he asked.“Devarre?”“I figured you were one of the travelers to see the pilgrimage off.”