The Might of Evil Dreams (A Novel of the Elemental Chronicles)

One - A Stranger From the Storm

^^Above: Irish actor Aidan Turner (pictured here as Ross Poldark from the BBC series of the same name) as Captain Thomas Haywood.^^

Somerset, England, 1783

Thomas

My dearest Son,

Our angel Francis has departed this life. He was quite despondent the last time we saw him alive, telling us he had seen a man with wings and a great golden sword in his dreams. It must have been a sign, but we did not see it at the time, and is my greatest regret. He used the pistol you gifted to him when he turned sixteen, do you remember, dear Tom? None of us could have known he would do this. Your Father has taken ill, and is not long for this world. It happened soon after Francis's death, and I regret that I did not tell you sooner. You must come home to us, Tom. You are our last hope. —Mother.

That letter was eight months old. My brother was already buried, and both my parents had one foot in the grave as well. Still, I kept it in my fist as the carriage rattled over the path. Every crack of the whip sounded like the gunshots out of that fateful battlefield in Virginia. I shut my eyes tight, trying to rid myself of the memory of John, bleeding to death right in front of me. But it was one that has never left me, not for one day of my life since it happened.

The carriage lurched to a stop, jerking us forward. A knock from outside alerted me, and the two other occupants. We'd arrived somewhere, but I hardly recognised the rolling green fields outside.

"Dorchester Manor, Cap'n 'Aywood," said the driver.

I watched the carriage until it disappeared back over the rise of the hill. Then I turned in the drive, towards the double metal gates bearing my family's seal. The metal was covered with rust, and they squealed infernally as I pushed them open. No one was oiling them, which meant my parents were in an even worse state than I'd predicted.

"Captain Haywood, sir." My parents' butler, Lucian, bowed to me as he answered the door. "Welcome home.'"

"Hello, Lucian." I dropped my kitbag, the only possessions left to me after the war's end. A stark change from my boyhood, where I'd had everything I'd wanted simply with the ring of a bell. Then I shed my hat and cloak, which he took readily. "How do my parents fare"'

"Very badly, sir, after Master Francis's death." Lucian's deep green Earth-Elemental eyes were solemn. "They'll be happy to see you, I must say."

"Yes, I suppose." They probably thought I was dead, especially when my letters stopped. But every time my mother had written me, they'd been filled with meaningless prattling about aristocratic ladies with their eye on the Dorchester estate. My father hadn't bothered to write. And Francis only wrote me once the entire time I was away, asking if I'd killed any demons. Being out of touch with my family had proved to be disastrous on all counts.

My mother's room was dark, the curtains drawn. A single candle burned on the stand beside her bed, and the only thing visible of her was her white bonnet.

"Mother?" I lowered myself to a knee by her side, taking one of her frail hands in mine. Her skin felt papery-thin and delicate. "Are you awake?"

She startled, her hold tightening. "Francis? Is that you?"

"No, Mother, it's me. It's Tom."

"Tom?" Her voice came out weak and hoarse. "Are you a ghost?"

I kissed her knuckles gently. "I'm alive, Mother. And whole. I've returned."

"Tom..." She pulled me close, so now I saw her milky eyes shining in the candlelight. "We thought you were dead...buried..."

"I know, Mother. I'm sorry." I bent to kiss her forehead, taking care that my gorget didn't swing forward and hit her as I did. "But I'm here to stay now. For good."