The Light and the Shadow

By James Twerell

In book one of the Domatarious Chronicles, I Am Adam, the power of supernatural understanding is given to the new creation called humans. The growth of early mankind is guided by the mystical figure Domatarious, a messenger of God sent to instruct and watch over the new creation. In the second book of the series, human kind has evolved into the medieval ages and struggles with the powers of the shadow. The main characters are Sir James and Lady Fleur, two young and adventurous individuals who discover a love for each other and for the creation itself. Domatarious guides them through pleasure and difficulty as they realize the deep truths of the Power of Love and Light. While it is a fictional account, the reality of the lessons taught will impact the reader’s daily life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Twerell
• Release date: Jan 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458076670

James Twerell

Dr. J.T.Twerell is an award winning author as well as a practicing Psychotherapist in Manhattan NY. His works are a cross-section of fiction and non-fiction including “Signal 30” which won the Readers View Novel of the Year in 2011. "Catch and Release" was a top winner at London Book Festival, Los Angeles Book Show and Beach Book Show in 2013. For more information go to www.JTTWERELL.com.

Book preview

The Light and the Shadow

A novel by

James Shipman Twerell

The Light and the Shadow

Living Word Publications, Inc.

7 Dey Street

Suite 207

New York, NY 10007

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third party websites or their content.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN 978-1-936517-00-8

Living Word Publications, Inc published by arrangement with James Terry Shipman Twerell

Copyright©2008 by Living Word Publications

Dedicated to my Beloved Fleur, who is my eternal partner and source of Light. Thank you for being in this part of my journey as you have been in all the others.

Preface

The recording of the information presented in this book took place well over 900 years ago and was preserved by my family until now. I am simply a delivery person. My father handed me this manuscript at his death instructing me to read it, and if I felt it was time to share, then distribute accordingly. If I felt it was not time, then pass it to my eldest child with the same instructions. Having read and held the story for 20 years, I now know it is time to share this information.

For some, it may be difficult to understand this is an account of three different people who lived long ago and yet, in many aspects, still live today. Although they were my ancestors, during the last twenty years they transformed into friends who I came to know intimately. Reading their story and following the truths they shared, transformed my life in a fashion I never imagined.

Therefore, I present you this gift, from the God-of-All-Good-Things, who loves all of us and generously provides the balance and security in life enabling us to be content.

At the close of this story, I will share some thoughts to provide an understanding of how my family maintained this information over the years. Not all who read will understand, but the shadow is dying and Light is eternal.

J. S. Twerell

August 2010

Chapter 1

James

As I rode the trail, my mind was as misty as the morning sunrise. A fog hung in the air filling the road and woods as a soft blanket of fine wool. This setting provided a moment of tranquility in a world knowing little peace. How long I traveled across this land, I neither knew nor cared. Zoë, my stable and trusty mount, trod the path with no complaint or hesitation, not knowing the pointless direction I sought as she obeyed my foolish and empty thoughts.

My journey hadn’t always been as unfilled as this. In the earlier times, believing in the honor of serving my King and country, I found glory in protecting the land from forces of darkness. Those days brought abundance of life to me and my companions. In all we pursued, the value of honor was our existence. We rode to battle confident of victory and we loved each other as much as we loved our King, knowing we would never see failure.

The glory of that precious time is now but a memory, for when the King died, a sleep of fear took over the hearts of the people. How naive we must have appeared to the destiny makers watching our foolish games. How they must have laughed and scorned our dreams and vision.

I began to sense the gentle warmth of the summer sun and knew it was time to provide Zoë a rest. My body ached from the weight of the iron suit I wore and my back longed to be free from the confines of metal and brass protecting my weary body. Looking at my gloved hands, I realized these weapons of war hadn’t moved in hours. Instead of wielding sword and shield, they clung to reins with no direction or purpose.

Zoë pulled the reins to direct my eyes toward a small stream ahead. I gave in to her desires, for they clearly transcended any of my own. Stopping by the stream, she drank the cool waters running near her tired hoofs. Lifting her head, she looked around as an encouragement for my own movement. She sighed as I lifted the heavy load from her back and set my feet upon the ground. I removed the helmet that seemed part of my own body and felt the cool morning breeze across my neck and face. How many years had I worn this burdensome load of iron in order to protect King and country. Now, in the same way Zoë carried her burden, my armor was a heavy encumbrance carried out of habit.

The sun breaking through the trees brought warmth to my haggard soul as the stream beckoned to heal the wounds of body and spirit. I removed the breastplate, my loyal protector in many a gallant challenge, and studied the nicks and dents, which spoke of valiant opponents who previously sought to terminate my feeble life. They believed in their own noble cause to which I appeared the enemy. Was this simple plate of armor the thing protecting me from premature death, or was there a benefactor who watched my every move? One more question escaped my ability to reason.

In confusion and exhaustion, I sat my reliable protector on the bank and proceeded to strip. Wading into the stream, I felt the coolness wash over my weariness and bring refreshing. I must have remained in this place some time for when I returned to the bank of the river, Zoë had moved on to tall grass, which offered her sustenance for whatever was ahead. I walked to her with a sense of peace I hadn’t felt for many a month. Unfurling the blanket from her saddle, I reclined on the ground and drifted into a sleep that provided a temporary refuge for my tormented soul.

I awoke some time later feeling I was being watched. Reaching for the sword, I rose and cried out Who goes there? The natural quiet of the day responded with no words, just a sensation of the existence of another. I realized how foolish I must appear, standing with my sword in hand, prepared to vanquish all foes, and as naked as the day I was born. This new reality overshadowed the alarm, and I fetched my undergarments and suit of chainmail. Looking about I saw no person or beast, however I still perceived I wasn’t alone. My peripheral vision caught a movement to the left, yet I held my place and avoided the impulse to turn and charge. I lowered my sword and pretended to move toward the retrieval of my armor. It was at that moment the stillness of the woods gave way to the sound of a snapping branch, and I knew the figment had become reality.

I turned and in three strides was upon the site of this perceived activity. Jumping into the low bushes surrounding me, I raised my sword to bring a quick death to whatever person or beast lurked in hiding. The sudden shriek of a small voice arrested my attack in mid flight and my sword crashed far to the right of the sound.

Show you as friend or die as a foe, I shouted to the bushes around. Battle honed the instinct of survival, and I began the second move of the sword toward the place of concentrated focus.

I be friend, I hope. Came the high-pitched voice, Hurt me not for I intend no harm to you or your steed. The shrill voice became a small boy, or perhaps a man, it was difficult to determine at that moment. His outward appearance was of a mature individual yet half the appropriate proportion of a normal man.

Who are you and what’s your purpose spying on me? What do you seek and do not make a quick move, or it will be your last? Step forward and show yourself. Where are you from and do you represent any in the land?

My Lord, you ask me much, and I don't know which to answer or how to move. I fear that if I do either in the wrong way, I shall never have a second chance to try again. I am Troy, and I am frightened. He moved with hesitation and held his hands before him as one who would bring me a gift but had lost it in transit. He was a man, but about four stones high. His legs and arms appeared as muscle prepared to defend his honor well, but his stature betrayed his vulnerability.

I come, my Lord, as one who allowed his curiosity to be his downfall. I mean no harm, as I honor seeing one of your obvious nobility lodged in our woods. I beseech you, please forgive my intrusion, and I will disappear from your sight as though I never existed. Let me be a passing vision and we will both be at peace today, especially me.

No foe, I ordered with a calmer voice, Stay your ground till I’m sure of your particular purpose in these woods. Do you live here alone or are you serf to a local noble?

With caution he lowered his hands and said, No, my Lord, I am a free man and have been since birth. I have lived in these woods with my people since the great sickness. We have now become few, but wander the woods with complete freedom bringing harm to none. I protect and serve as observer for no one, and I have nobody to whom I report. I am not here by any order, I have no place to go to tell of your being here, no one will find this of interest, and they will not come to see what I have seen. I am alone, my Lord.

I laughed at the denial that hid truth I’d best unravel if I was to know the risk at hand. This no one who you speak of, is he King or robber?

He is not a he, my Lord. Oh, I mean, he does not exist, no I mean she does not exist. Oh, would to God I did not exist. At which he commenced to tremble and cry. Take my life my Lord, for I have failed my mistress in my task. Falling to the ground, he bent his neck to prepare for the blow of my sword.

What a strange creature. Prepared to die and yet not even knowing why I was here. In addition, who was the mistress he’d failed? For that particular matter, where had Zoë and I wandered in our meandering?

Stand up Troy and stop cowering before me. I will not take your life or harm you unless you refuse to answer my questions with truth. Your tongue had best speak truth or I may have to relieve you of its presence! Whose territory is this and who is this mistress you appear to serve this day?

He rose and with great care moved into my shadow, as if the sunlight was blinding him. Thank you my Lord. May God have mercy and grace on all you do for showing mercy on one who deserves to die; on one whose presence is signature of a life misspent; on one who is less than dirt, on one...

Enough Troy, you have humbled yourself enough to please God and man, now talk of the explanations I seek, and do it without further games! My patience with this small man had worn thin, and I still wasn’t sure of the potential vulnerability into which I may have fallen. I knew from accumulated experience, if one person existed in an empty place, others were also around. Caution increased the concern for responses, and I stepped closer to this boy/man and reached out for his shirtfront. In an instant, I found myself in the air and flying over the boy/man's head. I landed on my shoulder and lost the grip from my sword. I rolled to my feet and planned to lunge at whatever rouge had slipped up on me. Nevertheless, no one was about, only the man/boy who now held my sword. It was as large as he was tall, but he lifted it with no effort and flung it at the nearest tree. As the blade buried into the tree and the shaft swayed from the significant power of the impact, I realized I had misjudged this man/boy known as Troy.

As my mistress would say, my Lord, what you have sown will often bring a rapid harvest. I will show you no harm as you showed me none. Nevertheless, I too would appreciate some answers as to how a noble as you finds his way into our quiet wood. I also am curious to know if you are a friend or foe. With that, he started to laugh and hold his belly as if he would burst. My Lord, forgive me for my indiscretion, he said between bouts of laughter, but the look on your face as you flew over my humble head was one I shall never forget. I hope I laugh with you and not at you, my Lord, for picture in your head what my eyes beheld, and you will know the cause of my unpardonable joy.

My immediate anger at his mocking turned to a quieter discontent as I mentally pictured the exchange he proposed. Here was the battle-hewn warrior overcome by one who was a third my size. I knew my expression had to be one of pure astonishment and confusion. A begrudging smile worked its way to my lips, and with a small shake of my head acknowledged my change of attitude.

Troy, I too ask for your forgiveness for underestimating my opponent. Long ago, I learned from a great King that the heart of a man knows no boundary or limit. I trust your heart is large and strong, protecting all you honor. I entreat you to permit me to begin again, not from strength, but from respect. I also trust you will show me how you accomplished this great defense in the midst of a sure defeat.

Come my lord, sit here in the shade for the sunlight hurts my eyes. We will talk as strangers who seek to be friends. With that, he turned and pulled my sword from the tree, handed it to me and proceeded to walk to a quiet green space among the trees. Amazed at his boldness, I followed and reclined against a stout tree across from the stump he had chosen to make his chair.

It is one of the difficulties my people suffer since the great sickness. The sun causes our vision to blur and produces great pain in our head. In the shade and dark, we are as the owls that see all, but in sun, we seem as bats, moving in the shadows as though blind. Now, my Lord, tell me of yourself and your quest, and I shall answer all you ask to the best of my humble ability.

Smiling, I responded, I shall not underestimate your humble ability ever again my friend. My name is Sir James, and I come from the court of the King of all England. I serve and have served his honor and grace for over ten years. My King died over a year ago, and while the physicians and wizards say it was because of many battle wounds, I know it was of a heart badly broken. My King had a Queen who was of great beauty and honor. Together they ruled with absolute truth and mercy, and the land prospered in all they did. Nevertheless, my Queen's heart turned to another, and she and her lover fled the Kingdom in shame. My King did pursue them and defeated the knight and his rebel soldiers. Nevertheless, he allowed my Queen to escape. She died in France several months later. My King grieved for her and lost his ability to rule with truth. Others took advantage of his weakness and commenced to divide the Kingdom into pieces to fit their pleasure. As the Kings' pledged protectors, we remained loyal until his death. Since that time we have wandered our separate paths in search of answers to save the dream of our King.

He pondered my words as if memorizing the lines I spoke. My Lord, if I may be bold enough to ask, what is this you seek, and how will it save the Kingdom?

Before my King died, he called us together and told us he knew his time was over. A great magician, who’d been with him almost all of his life, came to him and informed him to prepare for his end. The great magic man told him his love had failed the Kingdom , and now it would be restored by another who would hold the honor of the dream above all things in this world. The Kingdom was to be a pure reflection of the heart of God himself. It would be a place of peace and joy in which people had respect for each other as though God himself lived in them. The one who would fulfill that which my King had not accomplished lived in the land of England. It was our duty to find this person and bring them to the throne to rule. We all left on the day our King died and went into all parts of the land searching. Soon after we left, his honor, Duke Prindle, acceded to the throne. Upon hearing of our quest, he sent out warriors in secret to persuade us from our search, for he feared the old magician would cause betrayal to his reign. He ordered the troops to persuade us to stop our search or, if we refused, then kill us. Last I was able to find out, two of us remained, Sir Thomas and myself. All others died at the hands of Duke Prindle's army. I’ve wandered for many months in search, but I fear it may all have been a lost cause, as I have found nothing to support this quest.

Therefore, Troy replied, your quest brought you to our woods and stream. Weary of your pursuit, you rested here were I discovered you.

That is the tale I bring to you, Troy, humble servant with strong arms. I answered, And now to your part.

This forest in which you rest belongs to Lady Fleur. Her father held the land and before that, his father, and before that, his father and before ... I imagine his father, but I cannot say as I ever thought back that far. My people settled here long ago and have worked in the field and forest as good friends of the Lord of the land. A great sickness came upon my people some time ago, and we lost all but a handful. I am the second generation after the sickness, and we continue to recover from our loss. While we are small of stature, we have learned from the ancients the art of arm fighting. I am able to throw men five times my weight, and my brother Jerrod once threw a large bull that attacked him. While we are a peaceful people, we fear little that comes toward us.

I definitely found myself in awe of this little man, for he spoke with confidence that even our bravest knights would find challenging. Tell me of your Lady, and what she brings to these woods you seek to guard.

"Lady Fleur is our protector. She is the light that shines in our heart even in the darkest moments. Her mother was from another land, and our Lord brought Lady Fleur here after her mother died. As she grew, it was obvious she had a love and kindness able to win the heart of even the wicked in the land. Upon her father's death, she accepted full responsibility, and has given us great peace and prosperity. She has been kind to our people, and given some of us a position of great honor by making us keepers of the night. Our task is to guard the land within the shadows and keep watch in the night. No intruder slips by us, for we see all in the dark. It was my duty to find out about you and your particular purpose in order to tell my Lady. In this, I have succeeded, now I must report.

It appears you were captured in your seeking, friend Troy. I did find you as you sought to hide from me.

He pondered this for a moment and replied, Perhaps this is true, perhaps not. Cast your eyes on the trees behind you and tell me what you see.

Behind me was a group of trees, which appeared similar to all the others. I perceive nothing different in this group as in any... Returning my eyes to his position, I found it vacant. In the moment I looked away, he’d transferred himself into the air and I hadn’t heard a noise or sensed any movement. He’d vanished from sight.

Sitting in that shade covered spot in the mystical woods, I began to believe it was not I who captured Troy, but he who had apprehended me.

Chapter 2

James

The time with this powerful man/boy left me uneasy. It wasn’t a deep fear, but a growing perception of unrest. I stood and walked back to retrieve Zoë and re-suit. My thoughts came to a sudden stop when I realized she was not in sight. I whistled and called her name, but she, much like Troy before, had simply disappeared. I ran to the stream and found still another reason for concern, my armor and blanket had vanished. A man I should have killed had robbed me. I’d foolishly set aside all caution, and now I was paying a great price.

Calm yourself, I demanded of my soul, For there is no wisdom in anger. I commenced to examine my surroundings for any evidence of the path of their retreat. Troy and his band of thieves may be able to disappear, but Zoë had to leave a path. On the far side of the stream, I spied broken grass indicating the passing of something larger than a man. I crossed the stream and began to pursue the path left by my horse. It wandered through the silent woods until the trees parted into a large field of summer ripe wheat. Beyond the field I saw smoke, which might come from campfires of my unfriendly friend. Making my way through the gently moving wheat, I circled left toward a range of trees that provided camouflage. Once there, I was able to see the fire didn’t come from a camp, but from a house chimney. There appeared several houses together and a large grassy field filled with stunning white sheep.

I cautiously moved closer and saw the small houses gave way to more and at last, a whole village materialized. I watched women moving in the open area, going about their daily chores without concern. Unlike many in the land who walked with head bowed for fear of unseen danger, these maneuvered about their task with an aura of joy and peace. They all were of normal size, unlike my small robber. I dashed to the cover of woods nearer the village where I saw a larger home that was pure white and actually glowed in the summer sun. Around it, several men worked at tasks of tanning hide, pottery wheels, smithy, and a carpenter, but with tools I’d never seen. All appeared a natural height, and I began to wonder if I’d stumbled on the wrong village and had now lost

Reviews for The Light and the Shadow

[lynnb_64 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is the story of George Webb, failed police officer turned private detective. His life has been turned around by one case: the murder of Mr. Nash by his wife. Mrs. Nash hired George to follow her husband, who was cheating on her. George was drawn to her, and two years later, is still totally wrapped up in her life. Graham Swift has done an outstanding job of painting a picture of George: his personality, hopes, fears and longings. The book takes place over a single day, but with flashbacks to cover George's life. The writing is fast-paced, even though this is primarily a character study. It definitely made me want to read more by this author.

[samsheep_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I gave this four stars because....I was engaged, I liked it, I kept reading, some beautiful turns of phrase, some interesting characters. It had the quality feel to it. BUT sometimes it dragged - he really spun it out a bit too much, the pacing not quite what it could be. Also a silly small thing that really grated on me - the way that he used "sweetheart" a lot when speaking to her in prison. Somehow jarred with the rest of it.

[adrianburke_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

No. I cannot get on with this. Reading it is like listening to two radio stations at the same time. Two much cross interference. And really I feel the complication is all to do with the method of telling rather than anything else. One long fragmented flashback is intercut into a boring car trip. Did not finish. Life being too short.

[coyote99_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

What an awful book. Mesmerized by his own words, Swift manages to spin ever slower circles around events we already know happen with needless jumps forward and backward. Early on he decides that his tale has so little merit that his only chance is to make his narrative so confusing that the reader may mistake obfuscation for brilliance. A complete waste of time.

[booklistener · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I have mixed feelings on this book. Author painted a very convincing picture and the imagery sticks with me. On the other hand, it did seem the story moved excruciatingly slowly at times. He would dwell for a long time on the mood of a scene and then, almost in passing, mention key plot details.

[sanddancer_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Amazing! It plays with the conventions of the detective story and romance. We find out almost immediately who committed the crime, and the rest of the book is about piecing together the events that led up to it, all seen from the point of view of a detective, who has fallen in love with the murderer. That summary doesn't really do it justice. It is about relationships, secrets and love - all big themes, but it is beautifully written and griping.

[gocam_4 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Moderately more engaging than watching a slow paint dry, the book nonetheless explodes very occasionally with flashes of incendiary writing. 'Light of Day' indulges for most of its length in endless, insistent, circular, inevitable, here-again/there-again repetition surrounding a violent act that puzzles and initially intrigues and the back story detailing how our private detective protagonist ended up 'the man he is' - using a series of flash-back and -forward sequences we are led through a life that collides in a conclusion that should satisfy but rather stultifies . The form does tend to pull Webb's plight and life arc into tight focus, but honestly neither make for particularly engaging reading. As a treatment of a slow-burning drift into insular obsession the novel succeeds in generating a modicum of sympathy, but little more. Swift can write tremendously compelling almost poetic sequences (particularly when detailing the relationship with his daughter, and a cop whom he faces as nemesis then acquaintance), but they are buried deep in far too many words describing far too slight of a narrative where, frankly, there is little to care about. In reading this book I found myself at one point reminded of the power of selective repitition in Edwin Morgan's "In the Snack Bar" - a poem that achieves more in a few hundred words than this novel does in its entirety. Disappointing as I had high expectations after a punchy opening chapter, and having enjoyed "Last Orders".

[cliffagogo · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Ex-cop and private detective George Webb reflects on his past and revisits his old relationships, to find meaning in recent tragic events. The author’s knack for readable, believable dialogue makes for a compelling, addictive novel that pleases from start to finish. This, mixed with an incredible sense of structure and atmosphere, places Swift head and shoulders above the competition.

[piefuchs · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A good book that failed to live up to the high expectation I had developed for this author based upon Last Orders.