Fallen Dreams by Elaine Brown (best english books to read TXT) 📕

next thing I remember after the shock that the sudden cold had placed on me was being flopped, choking and shivering, onto the deck of a small fishing boat. By the time I had recovered, we were already a mile out from the shore. Although I scramble for the side of the boat, trying to fight my way back, to help somehow, a strong hand pulls me back. I had already forgotten that someone else must be on the vessel alongside me. I am barely able to muster enough strength to spin around and face him. As my strength fails and I begin to slump, the strong hand is back, holding me up; the rush from the day has left me with nothing.
A voice, gentle but strong, is hard against my mind as my eyelids become heavier and heavier; “Do not fear me; I am here not to bear arms against thee, but with thee. Sleep now, child, foretold bearer of the Blade. I will let no more sorrow befall you this night.”

A soft light against my lids wakes me. My eyes, slowly opening, take in the full moon, bright against the storm clouds that soon envelope it. As I roll onto my stomach, feeling the soft grass of shore against my cheek, my drying clothes molded against my body, I take in the pain of what I now witness. In front of my wide eyes, the village has been reduced to embers. Not a building stands tall against the sky save for the evil Towers, miles out into the countryside, safe from the wicked reaches of the flames. For every charred blade of grass, every wreckage of a home, all of the rubble that singes my bare feet, my heart grows darker and all the more shattered. I can barely stay on my feet as nausea settles in my head and my gut; all the people I had known, all the people that I had loved… they are all gone. Nathanial, Lorelei… I would never read with them again on a hot summer day, I would never again cry with them, laugh with them... They were so young, why now?

Why at all?

My hand slowly comes to touch my cheek, and I can feel the torrent of tears streaming down them, even through the numbness that I feel inside and out; I feel… hollow. I find myself scaling the hill sluggishly, resorting to crawling on hands and knees when I fall. Clinging to the oak for support, I pull myself up and the nausea— the pain—grows worse and worse. Hugging the tree to stay standing, I tilt my face to the sky as it begins the heavy release of rain.
The rain is cold against my skin, the small droplets pounding lightly against my face and arms and wherever I am exposed. It washes part of the grime and ash away, but it fails to cleanse my sorrow. Strange how such a beautiful, sunny day could have gone so horribly wrong. The sky isn’t even visible now, through the mass of grey storm clouds. I am glad for the rain pelting down on me, soaking me through and through, allowing me to feel as though even my soul is drenched in tears. The salty tears streaming down my cheeks and dripping off my chin are mixing with the pure water of the sky. The sky… is it crying for me?
A strong, gentle hand drops softly onto my shoulder, but I don’t even try to turn around. The touch is slightly familiar, but not comforting; I know the hand only faintly, from the fishing boat. “Who are you?”
“A friend. We have not much time, Ombrishad. You have much to learn, but for now I can only give you this: I am a Guardian; I am here to protect you so that you may fulfill what has been set out before you. We must get you away from this place quickly, before it is too late; please, let me help you.”
The tears stream even faster down my face as I shake my head slightly, shivering against the drenched clothes that are pasted to my body. “I can’t leave them.”
The voice, already so gentle, takes on a sorrowful tone. “This place holds nothing more for you; all that is here is pain. We all must try to put one foot forward after we fall, even if we must resort to crawling, as long as we are moving forward. Take a step, young one; do not let the rain defeat your heart.”
Slowly, not able to go any faster, I turn to him. I stumble, unable to keep myself upright without the tree for support, and tumble down the hill. Feeling utterly defeated, I lie at the bottom of the hill and feel the mud slide down my skin as if it were blood. Strong arms pick me up; the same arms hold me against a broad chest, encased in a warm cloak.
“I thought you said to crawl?”
“Everyone needs to be carried once in a while.”
With every long stride, I feel slightly stronger, but the ease with which he carries me makes me wonder at who he must be. What would a Guardian be, and why was one with me? So many questions, and what was he talking about in the boat? Something about a blade?
I sigh against the cold; “Why did you call me an Ombrishad? What does it mean?”
A hand lightly smoothes my hair, and I feel the rocking as he steps into the boat once more. My back aches as he lays me on the hard wood floor, and I feel the vessel push off from the shore. “Ombrishad is a very old word, one of the only words my people remember from our native language. It is part of the prophecy of long ago; the Ombrishad would come to deliver the world from the Lamrinata with the Blade in hand. Ombrishad and Lamrinata are forever intertwined in the fates, foretold long ago by the earliest peoples, here before the world was even completely formed.”
I blink and sit up slightly, watching his silvery hair blow in the wind as he watches the horizon, holding the tiller steady. His face is young and strong, wide jaw and strong chin strange against the silvery locks about his face. “What are you talking about? What does this have to do with me?”
His eyes shift to me for a moment and he smiles kindly, letting his gaze drift once more. “You will soon learn, brave one. You have been fighting this war for many generations, only now the Blade has made itself known. This could be the end.”
Sighing again, my heart suddenly weighs heavily upon me. The bits and pieces that are left feel as if they are breaking again, and the sorrow engulfs me once more, paralyzing me. The weight of a thick wool blanket envelopes me and I press my tearstained face into the rough fabric, feeling as if my whole being is about to collapse from the chaos that is raging within me.

VI

Everything after that happened very quickly. When I woke, the man was carrying me again; the boat, and the lake for that matter, was no where in sight. We were in the forest, on a long, narrow path that wove itself within the space between the trees. I could faintly see light coming through the thickening tree tops, which told me two things; first of all, I had been sleeping a long while because it was nearly midday. Second of all, we were headed for the heart of the forest, the deepest and densest reaches. I feel myself trembling, and then I feel the pale gaze of his eyes on me. Slowly halting, he sets me down gingerly. With the faint light I can finally see his features more clearly; he has a strong face, wide jaw and strong chin, with startlingly pale blue eyes. His hair, which I’d thought silvery in the moonlight of the night before, was actually a pale, whitish blond. He was not young, but not old; he was well toned, evidence of intense training easily seen even to an untrained eye. Though his features were intimidating, his gentle smile showed him to be a kind man. Leisurely, he bowed his head to me and motioned that we should continue. I wondered at why he did not speak, but somehow the silence was comforting. After what had just happened, no doubt I was still in shock and I don’t think I could have trusted myself to speak.
In no time at all it seemed, though it must have been quite a long trek, we came across a clearing, probably near the center of the woods; like the eye in the storm of all the trees and plant life. The meadow was rather large, but most of the space was taken up by huge, white tents. The light fabric rippled gently in the cool breeze, but the cold made my bare skin hurt as I crossed my arms tightly across my chest. My hair, a mess from being submerged in the icy lake and the rainwater, hung in strings across my face and neck. Out of one of the tents to my left emerged a tall, beautiful woman of golden hair and skin, garbed in a loose chainmail dress with a knife tied at her belt. Her eyes lit as her gaze fell upon the man beside me. Without a sound, she sprinted to his side and threw her arms around him, chainmail clinking softly against his leather and bronze plate body. I took in the powerful emotions that were being shared by the two, and I began to hurt anew. My eyes fell, and the woman suddenly seemed to understand; she fell away from the man and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pushing the hair back from my face and giving me a sympathetic look. Gently, she led me back to the tent, the man following silently behind us.
The interior of the structure was impressive, seeming even bigger than the outside. Throw rugs and pillows were piled in the center of the grassy floor, making a giant lounging area. A makeshift cushion for sleeping was piled separately in the back of the tent, a water basin in the corner, and a low table filled with fruit, vegetables, and dried meat. Dozing on one of the pillows was a boy, about my age or a little older, dressed in the same fashion as the man; leather tunic with bronze enforcements, thick wool trousers, and golden bracers circling his wrists. At the faint rustling of the fabric as we entered, he was on his feet, so clear eyed that it would seem he had not been sleeping at all. His gaze fell upon me with a strange force and his eyes widened; he quickly sheathed his knife and bowed his head. This action surprised me—reminding me even more of the man—and I realized that I must look terrible, shoulders hunched and hollow eyed. I took his features in as he straightened; like the other two I had already met, the boy had blonde hair, though it was yet another different shade. His hair was similar to the woman’s golden locks, but it was a bit duller. His eyes, like the man’s, were a pale blue, but they had a bit more life and vigor in them. His face was a mix of the man and the woman’s; he had the woman’s high cheek bones and delicate chin, while he had the man’s strong mouth and high brow.

They must be a family…

His hair had a bit of wave to it, and it lightly brushed his cheeks and he tilted his head to the side; the