Free Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) by Jeffrey Collyer Page B

people are the Elahish.”
    They now stepped out of the forest and into the camp where Aneh had led them. Michael was reminded of the coloured tents he had seen in the crystal medallion, and intuitively knew that it must have been this place he had seen. There were scores of tents, of varying sizes, all in mixed colours of pale blues, greens, reds, oranges and yellows. They were all round, and domed, and the walls curved into the roof, meaning that there were no edges that could be seen.
    There were also no ropes holding the walls in place, and Michael thought that there must be posts inside the tents that held them up.
    He involuntarily slowed his walk as he stared in wonder at the first tent they came near. The bottom of the tent was covered in light greens as if imitating the adjacent grasses, and as the soft walls rose the colours gradually changed to blues, with rough shapes of a handful of animals and birds in other colours dotted around it. But he could see no stitching; the entire tent appeared to him to be made of a single piece of cloth.
    As he looked around at other tents, he saw some that started with the blue of water at ground level, filled with shapes of fish, then colours changing as the walls rose to form forests of spring, summer or autumn. Others showed mountains and rivers. None seemed to have any seams where the different shapes and colours joined together, and Michael wondered how the effects had been created. If the colours had been bright, they would have looked gaudy. But they weren’t bright, and the softness of the hues made the entire camp feel as though it belonged here; that it was at home with nature.
    “How are these made?” he called to Aneh over his shoulder. “They’re amazing.”
    He thought he could detect a slight smile in her voice as she replied. “They are made by Plant and Cloth Weavers, of course,” she said, as if that should be sufficient explanation. “Some are very old,” she continued, “but some have seen only a few summers.”
    As they continued through the camp, Michael noticed that while the tents were full of colour, the people he saw were all dressed plainly, much as Aneh. Although some of the women and girls wore dresses, most were in trousers, and all clothing colours were variations on browns, creams, and greys.
    They paused at a tent Michael assumed was where Aneh’s mother should have been, but no-one was there and so Aneh led him on to another, outside which stood a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He was dressed no differently to anyone else he had seen, in grey trousers and a dull white shirt, but seemed to be acting as a form of sentry, his expression stern.
    As they stopped in front of him, Aneh spoke, “I must speak with my mother.”
    The man said nothing but disappeared into the tent, at which Aneh turned to Michael, “They will likely only admit me at first, but wait here and I will return for you.”
    “Who are they?” Michael asked.
    “The Lora of our Waylet,” she replied, and then added in an attempt to clarify, “They seek wisdom and guidance for our people.”
    Michael didn’t understand her answer, but assumed they were something like a town council, and so simply accepted Aneh’s answer.
    The sentry shortly returned and, as Aneh had guessed, admitted only her. Soon after, Michael could hear some murmurs of voices coming from within the tent, but could make out nothing distinct, and it was probably ten minutes before the tent flap opened again. A woman with long brilliant red hair and bright blue eyes, in her forties, held the flap. “Enter,” she ordered him.
    Although her tone was not harsh, it carried an expectation of obedience, and caused Michael a degree of trepidation as he stepped into the tent.
    The structure was large, comfortably accommodating the ten or so men and women who were sitting amongst the thick rugs that were scattered throughout. Aneh was still standing to his right, and he found some comfort in