Chapter Five
The group of friends gathered around the burgeoning sapling in the clearing just outside of the Noban gates on the banks of the River of Tears. The sound of the rushing water played harmoniously upon the breezes, and the air smelled of spring and new life. Each of the travelers was possessed by his or her own thoughts, inspired by the moment, as their respective gazes and minds settled upon the objects and images that called out to their own individual hearts. A sorrowful sigh escaped the pale lips of Filaree Par D’Avalain as she contemplated the spot where her beloved friend Cameron fell only two months ago. Prince Elion held her arm tightly and comforted her as best as he could. His thoughts flickered from the sad memories of the recent past to those of Seramour and the unconscious boy under his parent’’s protection.
Baladar, Lord of Pardatha, admired with pride the newly polished gates and quiet strength of his city, a place that had provided refuge and sustenance to a population driven with fear only a short while ago, and a satisfied melancholy took hold of his soul at the thought of all that had been won and all that had been lost.
Cairn and Preston sat beside the young tree, staring at a wooden gaming board covered with lifelike carvings that were moving slowly around and around, their eyes locked upon the activity before them, hoping to discern the patterns in the weave. Fifteen paces to the north, Calyx, the giant Moulant, stood with his snout in the air and his brilliant fur flashed silver and golden in the morning sun while he searched for a sign upon the calm winds of the pale dawn. Only the eyes of the Chosen, Robyn dar Tamarand were directed southwards and the look upon his face, though concealed from the others, was circumspect and restless, darkened by something unseen and unheard.
Tomas stood with his hand upon the fragile trunk of the tree and with the tenderness and respect that a young Lalas deserved, he closed his eyes and fed upon the energy that flowed within. The youthful tree responded to his caress, its leaves fluttered and spread themselves wider, its branches stretched and upraised and its color darkened and grew healthier and more vibrant. Tomas had previously planted the seeds on the spot that Cameron fell after Colton dar Agonthea was forced back to Sedahar and Calista, the Lady of the Island, gave her life to save Pardatha. Ormachon, his own tree, had bestowed them upon him with the simple instructions to sow them where and when his spirit moved him to do so.
This was the first Lalas to sprout anew in many, many tiels and its growth was a continual source of hope for everyone who saw it or heard about it. The people of the land were sadly growing accustomed to the idea that the Lalas were a dying breed and despite the unhappiness and sorrow that their demise was causing, they were all trying to reconcile themselves to the tragic losses. But now, miraculously, a new tree had sprouted. It was more than anyone could have hoped for during these dark and trying times. And despite the recent victories, the land still suffered and they all knew that the battle had only just begun. A young Lalas in their midst was a beacon of hope, a pure and piercing white light in a vast cavern of formerly impenetrable darkness.
As the glowing orb of the new sun rose to a point fully above the horizon, Tomas abruptly retracted his hands from the tree. He turned sharply to the south and with his beautiful green eyes partially closed, he settled into a trance-like state. Robyn too continued to stare with empty eyes in the same direction, motionless and barely even breathing. The others noticed their friends’ poses after a short while and soon realized that they were not simply admiring the brand-new morning. Something was amiss.
Calyx bounded to Cairn’s side and nuzzled him with his broad snout. The scholar was so enraptured in his endeavor that he barely noticed the big animal’s persistence. Finally, Calyx nearly lifted him from under his arm in order to get his attention, at which point Cairn hastily recognized the great cat’s concern. He too turned his eyes upon the southern sky and a new and disturbing awareness immediately overtook him.
Baladar had hoped to spend a relaxing final morning with his companions before they set off for Seramour. Earlier, he had tired himself out somewhat by removing the spell from Davmiran that he had set upon the young boy’s arrival in Pardatha. It mattered little while he was harbored in Seramour with the elves. But when the others arrived, they would need to be able to see him in order to assist him. He recalled vividly how upset he had been when Davmiran disappeared and he thought that he might die alone and bereft of human help due to the fact that no human could visibly detect him. But as luck or fate would have it, Elion came upon him and rescued him. When he cast the spell in order to protect him, he never thought to conceal him from the other races too. That oversight turned out to be the luckiest mistake he had ever made.
Suddenly as if stricken, he spun around sharply and focused all of his attention southward, toward Sedahar and Colton, his calm soul chilled to the bone.
What is happening? he wondered.
Filaree and Elion by now had joined the others as well, and they too stared blindly down the River of Tears toward the Dark Lord’s domain. The warrior Princess and the elf stood side by side, the lady’s hand atop the shoulder of her companion, and without words they shared their new concerns, unsure as yet of just what was transpiring.
Calyx was the first to respond to the faint sound that eventually reached everyone’s ears. He raised his broad snout to the sky and howled in response. His sorrowful wail echoed up and down the valley. Neither Tomas nor Robyn moved a muscle in reaction, but undoubtedly everyone shortly heard the disturbing noise emanating from the southern reaches. Preston instinctively ran to his young friend and stood as close to him as he could, intuitively seeking his protection and the comfort that being by his side afforded him. Soon they had all gathered closely together, forming a semicircle with Tomas and Robyn in the middle.
The wail did not grow in volume, but it shortly pierced the souls of all who were present that morning. It reminded them all, by virtue of its intensity and mordant intonation, of why they were together and what they needed to do. Without any words being spoken between them, the sound alone reinforced the ties that bound them all. It solidified them in purpose, despite the cold and deadly chill that it aroused within each traveler. Not one of the eight would cease his or her efforts until Colton was no longer a danger to anyone. It was imperative and never more obvious than at that moment, with all of them standing around the new tree, the youngling, the youngest wonder, while listening to the cry of the harbinger of death and dissolution. The contrast was stark and revealing. A new fount of hope flourished before them, while demise and decimation beckoned from the south.
“His reach extends beyond his own realm,” Robyn remarked, eyes suddenly black as pitch while staring at the ground before him.
“The path of the dead grows longer,” Tomas echoed. “He has destroyed all that was his own.”
“I sense the struggle upon the boundaries. Life gives way,” the Chosen from Tamarand said entranced.
The others stood motionless and watched and listened. They could not see the same things that Tomas and Robyn did, but they felt them nonetheless. They only required the Chosen and Tomas to give verbal shape to their own frightening and incoherent perceptions. The sensations became clear once the words were uttered.
“We must make haste. Time is no longer a commodity we can squander,” Cairn commented.
“It never was, scholar,” Filaree responded without malice, her hand resting warily upon the hilt of her sword.
“Let us gather our belongings and prepare for our journey,” Robyn concluded, averting his head away from the direction in which they must eventually turn.
The group began to gather itself together and make its way stoically to the gates. Tomas remained rigid still and unmoving.
“Will you not join us? The sun will be strong anon and we should tarry no longer,” Elion observed gently.
“He longs for the First,” Tomas whispered. “The struggle is causing him great pain,” he continued as if to himself.
The others
turned to him one by one upon hearing those words.
“He longs to destroy the First, I think you mean,” Preston said defiantly.
“No, my friend. It is not hate he feels. He may need to destroy the First in order to be free of his suffering, but it is disjoining what little still remains of his humanity from his tortured soul to contemplate that,” the young boy conveyed, calm and steady. “He will have no peace until his task is accomplished. The conflict is tearing him apart. The First is in grave danger even now.”
Filaree stood up straight. “It will never be accomplished. We will find the First and liberate the Gem once more from whatever prevents it from shining through. He must be precluded from going north.”
“You are very confident, as usual, my Lady,” Elion replied. “Are you so certain that the First abides in the northern reaches? Besides, is not your commission to educate and prepare the heir? Is there also time to quest for the Gem and stop Colton in his tracks?”
“We cannot just allow him to begin his own quest while we take the time to train an inexperienced and unprepared young boy. We must do something,” she responded in her usual, obstinate manner.
“The fabric weaves of its own will, Lady Filaree. In educating Davmiran, are we not questing in our own way?” Cairn inquired.
“You are wise to look at it in that way,” Robyn interjected. “We do what we must when we must. Without our help, the boy asleep in Seramour will never reach his potential. If we fail to teach him all that he needs know, then we aid the Dark Lord more than if we ignored his threat altogether. Do not underestimate the importance of the Twins, my Lady,” he rejoined gently.
“Alas, sometimes we tread a path other than the one we might choose to if we were unconstrained. But your primary purpose is to awaken Davmiran and prepare him for that which we cannot achieve alone,” Baladar said, speaking for the first time since Colton’s disfigured power once again manifested itself before the gates of Pardatha. “It is so written my friends, and you cannot allow anything to distract you from your task. You were summoned for one reason, and although you have boldly and courageously realized so much else already, the one which called you initially has not yet been addressed.”
Tomas listened to all that was said with one eye upon the direction from whence the harrowing sound came and the other upon his companions.
“He speaks truly. As long as my brother remains ineffectual, we cannot hope to defeat Colton. Each moment you tarry brings Colton closer to finding him unprepared. You cannot allow that to happen,” Tomas said.
Robyn dar Tamarand looked quizzically upon the young boy’s solemn face, searching for something beneath the surface and behind the words he had just spoken. He sensed something strange in his voice, yet he could not decipher it. Tomas caught his eye and smiled for just an instance, putting him at ease, yet a nagging feeling that the boy was withholding something pressed upon his senses.
“Come, let us prepare swiftly now. Tomas is right. We must leave immediately,” Robyn commented, scrutinizing the boy’s face again for a sign that would explain his own consternation, though he was once more unrequited in his endeavor.
The boy smiled such a beautiful and heart-warming smile, alleviating his concern temporarily, and Robyn hastened the group forward allowing his trepidation to recede.
“The horses have been readied and the supplies that you will need have been prepared and stowed. Shall I call for them now?” Baladar inquired.
“Yes, it is time,” Robyn answered for them all without consultation, though none disagreed as if they were of one mind.
Baladar turned and walked toward the Noban gates, steady and determined, yet his heart was heavy with the thought of the leave taking. He believed that his decision to remain in Pardatha was the correct one, nonetheless. In a short time he had grown accustomed to the company of this portentous group, and he had developed a fondness for his new friends the likes of which he had not experienced since the passing of his wife, Briland. It was discomforting to see them go.
He turned his head briefly to gaze upon them as a group once more before they prepared to depart. Tomas, his wispy, blonde hair blowing in the morning breeze, appeared fragile to the eye, yet he exuded an uncommon strength and sense of well-being. He was as deep as a well and never ceased to surprise them all with his intuitiveness and insight. He matured by the minute. Cairn with Calyx by his side, the serious schoolmaster, careful and concerned, was the picture of no nonsense and determination, a rock amidst the shifting sands of life. Filaree Par D’Avalain was fierce and beautiful all at once, sure of herself, headstrong, yet sensitive and intelligent. Her very presence was a formidable obstacle to anyone with evil intentions, always ready, always hopeful. Preston the too-tall dwarf, was still a puzzle to Baladar in his sheer simplicity. His role was yet to be clarified, but he had grown not just in stature during his brief stay in Pardatha. His casual and comfortable relationship with Tomas belied an understanding between the two that Baladar was confident would affect the weave in its own time. Elion, Prince of the southern elves, had developed well beyond the tired and flustered traveler that he was when he first arrived to convey his ‘apologies’ for spiriting Davmiran away to what turned out to be the safest place he could have taken him. He was a gallant elf and a tenacious fighter, honest beyond a doubt, a combination that would serve him well in the coming tiels. And finally, Robyn dar Tamarand, the enigma of the group, the handsome Chosen whose power could not be concealed or ignored. His sensibilities were far more acute than anyone who had abided in Pardatha heretofore, and despite his reclusive behavior, he exhibited a natural ability to lead without engendering animosity in those who were called upon to follow.
Yes, Baladar thought to himself contentedly, I have chosen well. They will do what they must.
He glanced upward toward the battlements wherefrom the three noble fighters jumped not too long ago, defying the odds that fateful day and turning the tide of the battle. He let his vision wander to the hillock from whence Robyn first descended upon the city, remembering poignantly his steady gaze and somber ride to the gates. A fleeting image of his initial encounter with the disheveled and exhausted elfin Prince crossed his mind’s eye and caused him to smile slightly. He looked once more upon Tomas’ serene face, superimposing his brother, Davmiran’s image upon his in his mind’s eye.
When what was one will become two, he repeated to himself meaningfully. It seems that the fabric has woven its own threads in the midst of mine. The entire cloth has been strengthened no doubt, he thought confidently as he crossed the threshold of the city to gather the mounts for their departure. It is time to say goodbye.
Chapter Six
“Who is it that you say approaches, Lord Markal? Can you make out the design upon the standards that they bear?” Queen Esta inquired of her captain as she peered out the leaded windows of her sitting room.
“Yes, your Highness. I can see the patterns but they are not ones that I recognize.”
He too was craning his long neck in order to peer over the shoulder of his Queen.
“Have they sent an advance guard with a message for me?” she asked calmly.
“They have not, my Queen.”
“Well then, we must send our own to greet them and determine their purpose in coming here unannounced. Prepare to meet them before the gates, Captain.”
“As you wish, your highness,” he responded at once and then he bowed his way respectfully from the large, ornate room.
Once he had departed, Queen Esta Par D’Avalain forgave her imperious and calm demeanor and rushed to the broad leaded windows that overlooked the courtyard. She shielded her eyes from the streaming sun and scrutinized the contingent through a slim but powerful looking glass, as it commenced its entry into the sweeping clearing before the towers guarding the city’s gates. An imposing Knight upon a white horse stood at the forefront of the group. He was clothed fully in armor with his visor up, and she could discern a pattern upon his chest plate. As h
e drew nearer, Queen Esta realized that the design was that of a tree, green and abundant. The standards his guards carried also bore the likenesses of trees, similar to the one on the chest of their leader. The others in his party were all clothed in green suede tunics with silver swords tucked into their belts, the hilts of which were also green and shimmering in the morning sunlight. The Knight’s face was shadowed and difficult to see clearly from her perspective.
I do not recognize these markings, she thought. What manner of Knight approaches a city so well armed as ours, without announcing himself?
The Queen was not concerned for safety’s sake, as her guards were well trained and attentive. And when it came to sheer numbers, the group of strangers was outmatched five hundred to one.
She watched as Lord Markal let the drawbridge down and cantered out into the clearing with a small contingent of well-armed attendants. The guards upon the battlements watched closely and heedfully, prepared to defend their Captain should the need arise.
Lord Markal removed his gauntlet and raised his hand in salute to the Knight before him.
“Hail, stranger. Who be you and what brings you to our fair city?” he inquired.
The Knight removed his helm and revealed a handsome face, strong featured and serious. His long black hair fell to his shoulders and was thick and wavy above a broad forehead. He too removed his gauntlet and then raised his right hand in salute.
“I come from the east, my Lord, from Talamar. I am but one of many who have joined the battle against that which was and that which yet wants to be,” he bellowed in a deep, solemn voice. The others surrounding him behaved not in the manner of soldiers at all at this comment, but rather like supplicants. They raised their hands to their chests and with their fingers spread wide, they held them tightly against the images of the trees emblazoned thereupon. They reiterated in unison, chanting repeatedly, “That which was and that which yet wants to be.”
The Awakening Page 4
