Dawn

Darkness wrapped delicately around the earth,
Protecting its every secret,
A whisper of dreams upon the air,
This is our place to be safe and free.

Before long the sun will rise,
Its aura filling our souls,
Strengthening our hearts,
Extinguishing the world of dreams.

A gentle glistening of rays,
Caress the dew soaked leaves,
Birds combine their chorus,
Trees stir from their slumber.

Blinding emissions of light,
Burst forth from the Heavens,
Flooding over mountain tops,
Embraced by hopeful eyes.

The essence of flawless beauty,
Awes even your creator,
A marvel surpassing all others,
Dearest dawn, forever. 

—Rudi McDowell

Prologue – Stranger

Night fell and the world stood still, as though a mysterious force had frozen the flow of time and energy to create a barren vacuum. There was no wind, no moon, no motion. The streets of Andremar, which were generally filled with the activity of many lives being lived, many stories being written, had been ravaged and destroyed by two weeks of constant fighting – a pointless brawl between two differences of lifestyle: one forced, one chosen. This was not a peaceful nothing, as it may have appeared to the casual observer, but nothingness created through tension, through suspense, through fear.

Actually, that was not entirely true. There was one source of movement in the eerie town. A man, perhaps in his early forties, was creeping his way from shadow to shadow through the decrepit streets, relishing the cover that the darkness brought. As he passed a flickering roadside lamp, his figure was momentarily bathed in light.

His face was gaunt and pale, though he had dark shadows beneath his eyes. His long grey-tinged hair was matted and his facial hair unkempt. His travelling coat was smeared with dirt and torn in several places, and the soles of his shoes were worn down to the thinnest remains of rubber. This was not a man who had been treated to the riches of life. His appearance however did nothing to mask the determination in the man’s eyes as he silently slithered his way through the town, like a snake through long blades of grass.

An owl hooted in the distance, causing the stranger to spring quickly back into the shadow’s caress. He found himself in a narrow alleyway between two tall dishevelled buildings. The brick around their bases was chipped and crumbling, leaving a pile of fragments and dust around their foundations. The nearby dumpster had also seen far better days, with many bangs and gashes that told the tale of a life of suffering. In fact, this was true of most of the stranger’s surroundings. The light above a nearby doorway was smashed, leaving the element exposed and sparking intermittently. The stranger sighed, apparently relieved, for he quickly recommenced his journey.

As he neared the street corner, a yell pierced the night air. It may well have come from a kilometre away but there was no other noise to mask it, making it seem a lot closer and infinitely more chilling. The stranger looked around again; though, instead of sinking back into the darkness he began to speed up. He was not sure exactly what he was looking for, but seemed convinced that he was getting closer.

He must have been nearing the centre of town because he noticed that the buildings and general surroundings were becoming grander and in far less disrepair, though they too bore the scars of battle. He frowned as he ran past a once splendid two-storey house, with its chipped brick fence and its overgrown lawn. The lights were off inside though there was no calm about the dwelling, similar to the countless others he had passed along the way.

He soon arrived at what appeared to be the town square, which lay at the foot of an enormous stone building that could have housed a hundred folk easily. Its twin marble pillars were the foundation of a vast balcony that overlooked the square. The roof’s peak displayed a symbol that closely resembled a trident.

The stranger closed his eyes momentarily and muttered something under his breath before continuing on, but he took extra care to be silent because he felt he was not alone. This feeling of unease increased as he stopped at the base of the next multi-storey structure. His eyes scanned the square before he ducked into another alley, though this time he knew that he had company.

Before he could mount any kind of defence, he was grabbed from behind and thrown roughly to the ground where he landed on several small shards of shattered brick, causing a storm of dust to cloud the air. His head hit the pavement hard, though he was not badly hurt.

Blinking frantically to reorientate himself, he jumped back to his feet and launched himself at his attacker. His shoulder struck the assailant in the ribs and he felt the body collapse. His eyes finally readjusted and he squinted through the airborne particles to see a lady sprawled on the cracked pavement. She was slightly younger than he, and dressed in an official-looking black uniform with bronze lining. Her dark skin glistened with sweat and her hair had been ruffled in the fall.

She too recovered quickly and seemed ready to mount another assault before the stranger stepped backwards and lowered his arms in surrender. The lady looked confused, and rightfully so, the stranger could have killed her had he wanted to while she was down and defenceless. She surveyed his face for a long time before deciding that he was no longer a threat to her.

“You’re not like the others, are you?” she eventually whispered after quickly checking their surroundings. She too seemed conscious of the amount of noise that they had made during the scuffle.

“Nor are you,” the man replied simply in a rough, gravely voice.

“What is your business in this area?” she demanded, realising that she was now the one in charge of the situation.

“I am not yet sure,” he said honestly, “but I know my presence tonight in this town has a purpose.”

“It’s not safe for a Streeter to be wandering around in the current conditions,” she continued. “I would advise you to seek shelter immediately.”

“So you say I’m not like the others, yet you label me with the same tag,” he growled, ignoring her order.

“Whatever you call yourself, you need to find shelter now. I cannot go into details but as you undoubtedly know it is not safe to be out at night, not with the mayhem that is tearing Andremar apart.”

She looked desperate to make him understand without divulging too much information. Instead of replying, the man once again closed his eyes and whispered under his breath.

“What did you just say? In the name of the State I demand to know what you’re talking about!” she commanded.

“The State? That explains your uniform.”

He examined her determined face and decided it was better to make it seem like he was heeding her warning.

“I will leave you for now, but this is not the last we will be seeing of each other,” he rasped. “I bid you good luck, lady of the State. May Fate watch over you on this night.”

Without a backwards glance he left the alleyway, knowing that she would not follow. He kept to the shadows for another few blocks before briefly stopping to rest. His head had begun to ache from where it had hit the pavement in his tussle with the State representative and he found that his lungs were quite short of oxygen. The humidity of the night wasn’t helping either, as it was making the air heavy and harder to breathe. At least now he knew part of why he had come back to the town he so despised, but he couldn’t help but feel there was another purpose he had to fulfil.

He did not have time for more thought though, as the sound of rapid footsteps in a nearby street came closer and closer to his position. At first he thought that the woman had indeed followed him, much to his confusion, but dismissed this notion when he realised there was more than one person. There were perhaps even more than ten. Even though he did not know what, he could tell something big was about to unfold, something that the lady of the State had tried to warn him about.

The quicker I can fulfil my purpose and escape safely, the better, he concluded, as he stood upright once more, still huffing slightly. He had begun to perspire, not from the humidity, but from the pressure he was now feeling to discover why Fate had taunted him for the last few months, finally bringing him back to this war-torn town.

He pressed himself close to the nearest building and waited for the footsteps to fade away, assuring him of his safety. Moments later, however, another shout rang out through the darkness. It was not like the cry he had heard earlier; this sounded like a battle cry. The stranger darted out from the shadows and ran in the direction of the disturbance, which was coming from near the square through which he had walked earlier. He rounded the final bend and was completely taken by surprise at what he saw.

There were forty or more people, all dressed in similar shabby clothing and holding knives, timber and flaming torches. Across the square from them was a much larger group that appeared infinitely better armed and organised. Some held flags aloft bearing the same symbol that stood on the peak of the overlooking town hall; a trident, chosen for its ability to strike fear into the town’s enemies so that they would feel like they had lost before a battle even began. They were also all wearing some form of navy blue apparel – from vests to bandanas to armbands – so that they could distinguish themselves from their enemy.

The time for talking was well and truly behind them and the groups charged at each other without so much as an exchange of words. Yells of adrenaline, anger and pain ensued, barely drowned out by the haunting sound of gunfire. Without waiting to see the carnage, the stranger quickly took refuge behind the town hall, where the battle had not yet reached. The cries of the combatants stabbed through the night as though trying to rip the very fabric of existence apart. He could feel the energy of dozens of tortured souls fighting for their own agenda, whatever that may be.

They were soon to be joined, it would seem, by the State organisation to which his lady assailant belonged and served. He could see a small group of them weaving silently through the buildings as they quickly closed the distance between themselves and the combatants. There was one however, who did not follow the line of the others but instead crept his way around the back of the hall, where the stranger was hiding. His wild hair covered his face and he wore a uniform of black and silver, indicating that he was of a higher rank than that of the lady.

Making the quick decision that he did not want to remain at his current position any longer, the stranger dropped to the ground and crawled through the surrounding shrubs, away from the advancing figure. He waited several moments before peeking through the bushes to see whether it was safe for him to escape back into the jungle of stone and brick that would hide him so effectively.

He could no longer see anybody, though he could still hear the battle in the distance. It sounded as though the fighters were moving towards the dilapidated part of town. He seized this opportunity to dart from his hiding place and once again take shelter amongst the shadows of the nearby buildings. For the third time that night, he closed his eyes and muttered the same phrase under his breath.

This time he moved as though he knew exactly where he was going. He weaved quickly and silently through streets in the same direction as the rioters. He was positive he was headed the right way because the unmistakable sounds of life being taken became louder and more unnerving. The stranger shivered as he ran. He could sympathise with the Streeters and their plight, but he knew this was not the solution to their problem, and never would be.

Gradually his surroundings began to look familiar and he realised he was once again in the poor district. He almost had to force himself to stay there – it did not bring him any good memories. As he prepared to find cover in another alleyway, he saw a sight that chilled him to the very core.

Three thugs dressed in a range of navy-coloured clothing, were advancing on a young boy and a cowering child of no more than four years of age. The eldest was sheltering the younger with his body while the attackers slowly approached. The stranger knew instantly what he had to do.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself in front of the children, taking the attackers by surprise. They had not heard him approach even though his movements seemed bound to make noise. Recovering quickly from the shock, the closest man swung his fist at the stranger’s head, though he easily ducked it and followed through with a blow to the thug’s chin. This was no ordinary attack however – his hand was glowing and the assailant was knocked instantly unconscious.

As the first attacker crashed to the broken pavement and clouds of dust rose into the air, the other two launched themselves at him, though the outcome was the same. They fell backwards, also unconscious, while the stranger turned to the children, who were cowering beneath him.

“Are you alright?” the stranger wheezed, mentally and physically fatigued from the night’s activities.

The eldest nodded. He said nothing, but abruptly broke down in tears.

“They’ve killed them!” he yelled, unable to retain his tough facade.

“Who?” the stranger asked.

“Our p-p-p-parents,” he spluttered. “They tried to stop the arguing several days ago, and they k-k-k-killed them! I don’t know what to do!”

The stranger did not know what to say, though as he looked down upon the eldest child he felt a connection that he had not felt in years, perhaps ever, and knew why Fate had brought him there that night. However, before he could comfort the children, he heard movement behind him and turned just in time to be dealt a hard blow to the face.

A fourth attacker had emerged from the shadows and was intent on avenging her fallen comrades. Her long silvery-grey hair was untidy and knotted, accentuating her rough features, and her dark eyes were filled with an intense hatred. For the second time that night the stranger hit the pavement hard, though this time his recovery was not as fast.

“So, you like these children do you? You want to save them?” she snarled, relishing her position. “What would you say if I killed this one?”

She batted the eldest child aside and snatched the crying boy from the ground.

“No, you can’t kill him!” the eldest yelled as he jumped up and hit the attacker’s arm repeatedly. “He’s my brother, you can’t hurt him!”

“Shut up, kid,” she spat as she knocked him back to the ground. “I know a couple of people who would love to do away with a filthy Streeter before he grows up. Plaartz will be very pleased to be delivered a fresh victim.”

She turned and ran with the child struggling in her arms, leaving the elder boy with the stranger who had tried to save their lives, but who now lay stunned on the ground.

“Wake up!” he shrieked, grabbing the stranger’s coat and shaking him violently. “They’ve taken him! They’ve taken my brother! You’ve got to wake up!”

The stranger groaned and half opened his eyes. When he saw the desperation on the child’s face, he once again became aware of his surroundings and what must have happened.

“Which way?” he grunted, still shaken from the fall.

The child grabbed his sleeve and led the way through the cramped, derelict streets and back into the open where they were both fully exposed to the horrifying scene. Bodies lay scattered across the ground, both Streeter and Andremaran, as the three sides continued to wage battle. The uniformed peacekeepers of the State had taken some control, but were still greatly outnumbered as they tried desperately to restore order to the ravaged town.

“This way!” the child yelled as he pulled the stranger’s sleeve in a different direction, away from the devastation.

Before they could go further, a brilliant beam of light shone overhead prior to a violent blast that ripped across the battlefield with enough force to knock them both to the ground.

“They’re using Essence attacks now,” the stranger warned as he jumped back to his feet. “This place is no longer safe for us.”

“But, my brother!”

“May Fate deliver your brother from the horrors of this battle so that you may one day see him again,” he said, before he picked up the boy in his arms and fled the battlefield, intent on finding safety once again in the darkness of the night.

As he ran past a levelled section of building, he heard a final scream, one that made him freeze.

“Somebody, help!”

The stranger knew that it was a call he must answer; his final purpose that night.

“Wait here,” he said to the boy, who cast him a panic-stricken look. “Don’t worry. Just stay out of sight, there’s one more thing I must do tonight.”

He once again sank into the shadows of the surrounding rubble and cautiously approached the direction of the scream. He slipped around the side of a surviving building and saw her again.

The lady of the State, his unwitting attacker, was on the ground and crawling frantically backwards, away from another brute in navy blue. A deep gash ran the length of her forehead and blood was running down her delicate facial features. She screamed again as her attacker cockily strutted over to her, as though daring her to defend herself against his might.

Just as he had done earlier with the children, the stranger launched himself in front of the fallen woman and quickly dispatched the thug, who hit the grass with a dull thud, eyes rolling back in his head.

“He’s not dead,” he whispered to her as he saw the look of horror on her face.

“Did you… did you come back for me?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes.

She looked traumatised.

“I came back to this awful town tonight not knowing what I would find,” he replied, “but it seems that I had a purpose here after all. Fate works in mysterious ways.”

“My partner, did you see my partner?” she pressed on. “We were supposed to be together the whole night but I lost track of him, now I don’t know what might have happened.”

“I do not know of whom you speak, but there seem to be many sons and daughters of the State still fighting.”

“I knew you weren’t like the rest of them,” she said, looking him in the eye, tears streaming. “You… you’ve protected me tonight, when the rest just want to cause misery and despair.”

“You’re right, I’m not like them, but who is to say I’m better than they?” he replied.

“No, you’re like my guardian angel or something. I called and you came back. I saw you run past with a child as I fell. You could have escaped but you came back…”

She stood up again and did not remove her gaze from the stranger’s face.

“I have dispatched of some others tonight who were more than willing to spill the blood of the innocent,” the stranger wheezed. “If you follow this road back for three blocks and turn right, down the alleyway you will find them. Take credit for this when you are reporting to the State—”

“But—”

“And make sure you speak nothing of me to them. I must go, but we will meet again. Fate brought me here tonight and I have met you; ours futures are entwined.”

For the second time that night he turned his back on her, though this time she called after him.

“But, can you at least tell me your name?”

He did not smile, nor did he answer as he gave her a final parting glance before returning to the boy, still safe and hiding where he had been left. The fighting seemed to be dying down and only a few faint yells could be heard in the distance. For the first time since he had arrived back in Andremar, the stranger allowed himself the pleasure of feeling the brisk night air flow past his face, refreshing his spirit. His purpose that night had been fulfilled.

“Come,” he said to the boy, who was crying quietly to himself and hugging his knees tightly. “I know a place where you can rest and recover. You will be alright; I will make sure of that.”

He again picked up the boy in his arms, turned his back on the carnage and ran past the last of the rundown houses before allowing himself to be swallowed by the darkness of that horrible, fateful night.

About the author

Adam Stiles was born in Brisbane, Queensland on July 21, 1988, but was raised and educated in Ipswich where he attended St Edmund’s College.

He graduated with honours from the University of Queensland in mid-2009 with a Bachelor of Business Management, majoring in Physical Activity, and was employed at Big Dad’s Pies during the entirety of his studies.

Despite being an avid reader and competent writer, it wasn’t until the end of his third year at university that Adam realised that his future goals would be tied to the world of young adult literature.

He used his holiday break to write the first act of his maiden series, The Uniques, and plans to actively pursue careers in both his graduate field and as an author.

Click on the cart below to purchase this book:                 

HOME PAGE