Provenance: Dream Walker: Origins, #1

By Michelle Miles

Dream Walker: Origins is an origin story to enrich your reading experience for Call of the Dark, Book 1 in the Dream Walker series.

 

In 1147 England, John of Yorkshire is ushered to his mother's side as she lay dying. When she tells him the secret she's harbored his entire life, it alters his destiny forever. He sails for the Holy Land on a quest to find his absent father. But the ship is pushed off course due to bad weather forcing them to port in Lisbon, Portugal. There, he reluctantly enters a fight to return the city to Christian rule only to discover something more divine awaits him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dusty Tome Publishing
• Release date: Jun 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393602033

Michelle Miles

Michelle Miles believes in fairy tales, true love and magic. She writes heart-stopping urban fantasy, epic fantasy and paranormal romance with an action/adventure twist that will leave you breathless. She is the author of numerous series that includes everything from angels and demons to fairies, dragons and elves. She is married with one son and a black cat named Sir Dexter. A native Texan, in her spare time she loves reading, listening to music, watching movies, cross-stitching, drinking wine and taking pictures of her cat. She can be found online at Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and Goodreads. Your Adventure Awaits

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Provenance

Dream Walker: Origins

IN 1147 ENGLAND, JOHN of Yorkshire is ushered to his mother’s side as she lay dying. When she tells him the secret she’s harbored his entire life, it alters his destiny forever. He sails for the Holy Land on a quest to find his absent father. But the ship is pushed off course due to bad weather forcing them to port in Lisbon, Portugal. There, he reluctantly enters a fight to return the city to Christian rule only to discover something more divine awaits him.

Chapter 1

NORTH YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND, January 1147 A.D.

John Northton dreamed of his mother the way she looked when he was but a boy. With her golden hair plaited and wrapped around her head and her striking purple eyes smiling. Her lilting laugh was light and easy. Her cheeks always had a rosiness to them. In his dream, she placed her cool hand against his roughened cheek.

I’m dying, my son, she whispered. And there is much I need to tell you before I go. Come to me.

He snapped awake seconds later, his heart racing. He dressed, saddled his horse and took off in the middle of the night without another thought. A cold, bone-chilling rain pounded his head as he rode hard and fast through the night. He arrived, soaked to the bone, at the abbey at dawn. The rain turned to nothing but an icy, dreary mist when he rang the bell.

Minutes later, one of the nuns answered.

Can I help ye?

I need to see my mother, Agnes.

She stared at him a long moment contemplating. Wait here. Then she closed the door.

He waited in the chilly wet weather until the door opened again. The abbess ushered him inside. His soggy clothes dripped all over the stone.

You must be Sister Agnes’ son, John. She gave him a faint smile. You favor her.

I am. He gave a nod.

She’s been ill for quite some time, the abbess said.

I know. It’s why I’m here.

Surprise flickered through her eyes. I will take you to her, then. Come this way.

She showed him to the drafty dormitory room where his mother resided. She slept on a narrow straw mattress covered in a thick layer of scratchy woolen blankets.

She’s had a high fever and called out for you a few times. I merely thought it was her fever induced dreams, the abbess said, her voice low. If she thought it odd he suddenly appeared on her doorstep, she didn’t say. But John could sense it. She’ll be glad you came. I’ll leave you alone, then.

The woman backed out of the room, closing the heavy oak door. John knelt by his mother’s bedside. A coughing fit woke her from her slumber. She turned to her side, a kerchief in her hand as she coughed into the cloth, leaving it splattered with blood.

Mother?

When she realized he was there, her eyes fluttered open. She smiled, the relief evident on her pale face. A breath shuddered out of her as she closed her eyes again, the smile remaining.

My dear sweet boy. I saw you in my dreams.

I saw you too, Mother. That’s why I came.

She wiped her mouth with the soiled kerchief. With her other hand, she reached for him. He took her bone-cold hand in his and held it. Her skin was paper thin and so pale it was nearly translucent. He could feel every bone in her hand sticking through the skin.

There is something I must tell you before I die. She had said as much in the dream. That dream haunted him the whole ride here. I’m ready, too. My soul is prepared.

Mother—

"Hush,