Braxton.
He sat up quickly, expecting to see his mother’s smiling face and bright blue eyes looking back at him, recovered from her wound. But her features remained unchanged, and she was deathly pale. Had he imagined her speaking? Was his desire to have her back so desperate that he was creating voices in his mind?
Braxton, can you hear me? Her call was louder than before but still inside him.
“Mom . . . is that you?” He stared at her face, trying to understand where her voice was coming from.
Yes, Brax, it’s me. Oh, I was so worried you wouldn’t hear my call, especially after the attack on the Gate. Listen to me, Braxton. I don’t have much time, and I need your help. The only chance for my survival is to take my essence back to Arbor Glen. Please, Brax, you must do this! Take off my pendant and return it to my tree. Do you understand?
“What tree? Where’s Arbor Glen? What essence? Mom, I don’t understand!” He started to panic at the desperation in her voice.
Your dad will explain it to you, but you must hurry. You need to arrive in nine days, before the start of a new cycle. Remember, Arbor Glen. Find Bendarren. I love you. Good luck.
“Mom, wait—where’s Arbor Glen? Who’s Bendarren?”
There was no answer.
“Mom!” he called frantically, willing her to respond, his face mere inches from hers.
His eyes filled with tears. “Tell me what to do.” But other than the sound of the crackling fireplace, the room was silent.
“Braxton,” his dad said quietly.
He looked back. His dad and Ruskin stood behind him.
“Tell me what she said, son.”
“I . . . I don’t know,” he stammered. “Something about taking her essence, or her pendant, to a tree in Arbor Glen. That she needs my help, that I have to find someone named . . . Bendarren. But I’m not sure. It all happened so quickly, and she spoke faster than normal. Dad, I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
His father didn’t respond. He walked over to the table and poured himself a drink, took a long, slow draught followed by a deep breath, and then sat down in a chair by the fire.
“Listen to me very carefully. I need to tell you something that may be difficult for you to hear.” His dad’s face was serious now. “Your mom is an elfling.” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “They’re a small, reclusive race who live in Arbor Glen, a hidden glade deep within the greater Arbor Loren forest. We met, as you know, in the elven city of Almon-Sen, more than nineteen years ago this spring. But what we’ve never told you is that she’s one of their race, who left her people to live with me and bear human children.”
“What!” Brax stood up, feeling dizzy. “How can that be?”
“I know it’s hard to accept,” his dad replied. “She worried you’d feel ashamed if you knew, considering how the mixed races are treated. We planned to tell you when you were older, but it doesn’t matter now. She’s still your mother, and she needs your help. If I understand correctly from what you’ve said—and what I heard you say back to her—she’s transferred her essence, or her life force, into her rose pendant. You need to carry it back to Arbor Glen. I should really be the one to go, but my old leg won’t make the journey.” He forced a weak smile. “With Pen away in Amberdeen, you must do this Brax.”
“Me?”
“There’s no one else,” his dad said.
Brax glanced at Rusk.
“Ha!” Ruskin responded. “The elves won’t let a dwarf into their kingdom. Not now.”
His dad took another deep breath. “If you don’t go, Brax, your mother will die.”
These last words hung in the air like a thick fog, palpable and real. Brax ran his hands through his hair. He paced the room and shook his head, trying to grasp that his mom wasn’t human but some sort of elven subrace, and that she might not survive. Frustrated, he stared down at her, wrestling with his emotions. His whole life had been suddenly turned upside down. It was all so unreal. Regardless of her background, though, he knew what she meant to him—and that losing her would be unbearable. He promised himself that, no matter what else happened, he’d find a way to bring her back.
Chapter 4
Braxton spent a restless night tossing about in the loft he shared with his brother. Visions of his mom’s wound haunted him, and his self-doubt constantly threatened to crush his weak resolve. He cried repeatedly at the thought of losing her, despite her recent words. It was a few hours before dawn when he finally slept, exhausted from the day’s events and his previous night’s lack of sleep. His dreams provided little comfort, though, each one a new variation on some failed attempt to carry his mom’s essence to Arbor Glen and ending with a look of anguish on his dad’s face, his eyes telling Braxton that he knew he would fail, and that he should have sent Penton instead.
The first rays of sunlight touched the rooftops when his dad woke him.
“Time to set out,” he said, shaking Braxton awake.
Brax got up, thankful to be rid of his dreams, and dressed. He stuffed some clothes into his travel pack, grabbed his hunting bow and remaining arrows, and headed downstairs. His dad and Ruskin were at the table, talking quietly. A steady fire showed they’d been up for several hours, or perhaps hadn’t slept at all.
Brax dumped his pack at the base of the stone steps and walked over to his mom’s bed. Ignoring the conversation of the two men, he knelt down beside her and felt her hand. Removing the towel from her forehead, he rinsed it in the basin on the floor and gently placed it back on her brow.
“I love you, Mom,” he said quietly and kissed her cheek. “I won’t fail you.”
“Go and get something to eat,” his dad encouraged. “You’re going to need your strength.”
He returned a few minutes later with a cold breakfast—a small wedge of cheese, a piece of sausage, and some of his mom’s day-old muffins—and dropped down beside her, eating mechanically, forcing the food down.
“We’ve laid out the most direct route to Almon-Sen,” his dad said as he and Ruskin walked over. “Rusk will be traveling with you. I need to stay here with Mom.”
Braxton could see the disappointment in his dad’s face at not being able to travel.
“If anyone can tell us about the Mins—or the reason for this suicidal attack,” Ruskin added, “it’s the elves. They live right on their doorstep and watch them closely.”
“What do you mean, suicidal?” Brax asked.
“Well, killing the Gate Keepers meant closing the Gate, and they must’ve known we’d never just let them walk out of town alive.” Ruskin smiled grimly. “It was a one-way journey, my lad, and the Mins would’ve known that before they began.”
Brax realized that the dwarf was right. The Mins had no way of escaping once the Gate was closed.
“We won’t get any answers until you reach Almon-Sen,” his dad said. “It’s a four-day walk to Falderon and another three-day’s ride to Arbor Loren. The weather shouldn’t be a problem, so with any luck, and if you travel fast, you should get there in plenty of time.”
“Why don’t we just ride from here and get there even sooner?”
His dad nodded. “That would’ve been ideal, but Rusk needs a horse. There aren’t many in our village, and with the Gate closed, everyone will have to travel now to get supplies, which puts horses in high demand. We’ve been checking all night, and no one’s even willing to sell us a mule. Besides, I don’t think our townspeople are going to be too pleased to discover your mom’s an elf. Not after all these years of living beside them as a human, so they’re not exactly going to jump at the chance to help us. Anyway, Rusk knows someone in Falderon who’ll give him a horse. You can ride Obsidian together until then. He’s big enough to carry both of you that far at least, if you don’t push him.”
“Getting to the elves isn’t a problem,” the dwarf commented. “Getting into their city . . . now that’s going to be a challenge.”
“Why do you say that?” Brax asked.
>
Ruskin took a bite from a chunk of bread he was holding. “If the attack on the Keepers was more widespread than just Oak Haven, which I’m guessing it was, the elves have probably closed Almon-Sen. They know how to protect themselves, and it starts with preventing outsiders from entering their kingdom. Letting in a dwarf and a human boy is going to require some careful persuading.”
“We’ll get in,” Brax said, determined not to fail. “If I explain that my mom needs help.”
“Maybe. We’ll just have to see what the mood is when we arrive. Anyway, we need to get there first, and that means leaving soon.”
“I have something that might be of use to you, Brax, if you can learn to use it.” His dad limped over to the table, motioning for him to follow. He unwrapped the leather ties of a deerskin bundle and separated the skins, revealing the most exquisite sword Braxton had ever seen.
The golden cross-guard was made of a metal he didn’t recognize and tapered away from the dark wooden grip, cut in relief, with a deep-red strapping spiraling down to a rounded pommel. But it was the blade itself that captured Brax’s attention. A beautiful unicorn’s head was engraved near the hilt, its horn extending down the center and its long flowing mane continuing over the guard in strands of white chain.
“It’s called the Unicorn Blade,” his dad said, lifting the sword from the skins and holding it aloft. The long silver shaft glistened in the firelight, reflecting its sharpened edge. “It belonged to my father.”
“A spirit sword!” Ruskin sounded surprised. “I never knew Tyrrideon was a Wielder.”
“Grandpa Ty?” Brax asked. He knew his grandfather had served the Empire and could remember listening to stories of his adventures whenever he’d returned to their village.
His dad nodded. “He gave it to me before he died. And he was more than a Wielder, he was their captain for seven years.”
“What’s a Wielder?”
“An elite group of swordsmen who serve the king,” the dwarf said dismissively.
“They’re his own personal unit,” his dad explained. “Responsible for carrying out the king’s orders at the highest level, and with the greatest secrecy.”
He placed the weapon back on the table. “There were nine swords originally, but only six remain. Five are carried by the current King’s Squires—which is their official name—who serve young King Balan in Amberdeen. The sixth, however, is right here.” He placed the weapon back on the table.
Ruskin leaned over the Unicorn Blade. “This is amazing craftsmanship.” He picked it up and continued to admire the sword, turning it over and running his fingers down the side. “It’s much heavier than I expected. Unnaturally so. There’s some magic at work here.” Holding the blade in his bare hand, he turned the hilt toward Brax and offered him the weapon.
Braxton looked at the dwarf. Then he reached out and gripped the handle.
Ruskin’s deep-set eyes watched him, his face expressionless. He let go and the full weight of the sword fell upon Brax’s forearm, causing the tip of the weapon to drop down and hit the floor.
Ruskin laughed, and his dad smiled too. Feeling a bit embarrassed at his lack of strength, Brax grasped the sword in both hands and raised the end of the blade, his arms straining with the effort.
“We’ll have to work on that while we travel,” the dwarf said, heading to the door. “I need to refill my ale skins and get some pipeweed. Shouldn’t take long.” He left the cottage, leaving Braxton alone with his dad.
His father turned to him. “While you’re gone, remember to trust in your instincts, and in what you feel. Don’t follow anyone too blindly. Ruskin is a good guide, but you carry your mom’s essence with you now, and the Unicorn Blade. Let those guide you.”
Brax nodded, not quite sure he understood.
“Take this,” his dad said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small deerskin purse. “It’s not much, but it should help. Spend wisely, and be careful.”
“I will, Dad, and I won’t let you down—or Mom.”
“I know. Just do what you can, and we’ll live with the outcome.”
Brax nodded again, not wanting to think about what failure might mean to him or his family.
“Now, go pack some food,” his dad suggested. “You leave in an hour.”
Chapter 5
The sun was still climbing toward midmorning when they heard the galloping horse behind them. Braxton rode atop Obsidian, the large black draft horse his dad used to turn the forge, and Ruskin sat behind him, grumbling about preferring to walk.
They stopped and watched as the approaching rider grew closer, the sounds of his horse’s hooves announcing him long before he could be seen.
At a couple hundred yards away, Braxton recognized the horse as Cinnamon, the auburn mare belonging to Gavin Reed. Having grown up without a father, Gavin had spent much of his youth with Brax and Penton, often accompanying them on hunting trips and other outdoor expeditions.
He drew up alongside them, a cloud of dust settling in around him. His curly, sandy-brown hair was unkempt, and his face was strained and pale, his eyes bloodshot and red, evidence of the grief he’d suffered at losing his mom in the attack.
“I’m going with you,” he stated firmly. “I want to find whomever is behind this and repay them personally.”
“We’re not pursuing them,” Brax replied. “We’re heading to Arbor Loren to save my mom and to see if the elves can tell us why the Mins attacked.”
“But you know where they are.” Gavin looked at Ruskin, holding his jaw tight and clenching his teeth.
Ruskin took a deep breath. “Revenge is a terrible thing to live with. It’s a beast that consumes you. Besides, you’re a militia guard now. You swore an oath to protect Oak Haven, and you’ve a duty to its people.”
“I’ve a greater duty to avenge my mother,” Gavin snapped, leaning in closer toward the dwarf. “I don’t care about the militia, or Oak Haven, for that matter. I’m going after them, whether I ride with you, follow from behind, or go on my own. You can’t stop me. Nobody can. And they can lock me up for deserting if I ever come back.”
Ruskin eyed Gavin, weighing him up, then nudged Brax. “What do you think? This is your trip. You decide.”
Braxton understood the anguish his friend must be feeling—the same pain he’d felt when he thought his mother was dead. It was something he wondered if the dwarf could ever understand.
“Let him come with us. He’s as much right to know who’s behind this as I do. Besides, we may need the extra help.”
Ruskin made a hmph sound and kicked the side of Obsidian to get him walking again, shaking his head and muttering something about harboring a criminal.
“I want to make it to Falderon quickly—assuming no more interruptions,” the dwarf commented, emphasizing his disapproval of Gavin joining them.
Bear, Gavin’s large elkhound-wolf mix, caught up with them a few minutes later as they continued along the road, panting heavily as he ran up next to Cinnamon. Standing well over three feet tall at the shoulder, he had a thick mop of black, brown, and gray hair and a head resembling that of the forest creatures for which he was named.
Braxton smiled at the elkhound’s appearance. Somehow, having Bear along brought a sense of familiarity to their journey. For a brief moment, he felt as if they were just off on another hunting trip rather than an expedition to save his mother’s life and uncover the reason for the Min attack. But then the enormity of what he was trying to do crashed in on him again. He sniffed and looked away.
They paused briefly in the midafternoon for a lunch of bread, cheese, and some salted and dried meat Braxton had brought with him from the cottage. The path east was surprisingly empty, devoid of the normal traffic of farmers, tradesmen, and merchants who frequented the road between their village and the larger towns. They passed several farms, but no one worked the fields, despite the sunny spring weather. The residents, it appeared, had either deserted their homes entirely or locked themselve
s away tightly inside.
“The attack must’ve been more widespread than just Oak Haven,” Ruskin commented. The dwarf’s rough voice reflected a deepening concern.
At the end of the second day, they stopped by a copse of tall pines next to a creek that meandered down from the Vale Mountains. Yellow wildflowers were visible in the fading light as evening’s shadows crept across the broad fields thick with spring grass.
Gavin started a small fire, cooking something that spread an enticing aroma across the little clearing. Braxton was tying up Obsidian for the night, when Ruskin came over.
“We need to practice with that sword of yours.” He held a thick branch in one hand, smoothing it over with his hunting knife to form a short, debarked staff.
Braxton nodded, found his pack, and unwrapped the Unicorn Blade. Gavin looked up, but didn’t say anything. Brax was grateful that his friend didn’t ask any questions. Carrying the heavy sword to one side of the clearing, he stood facing the dwarf. He knew he needed to learn how to use the weapon, and, although tired and hungry, this was as good a time as any to start practicing.
Ruskin held up the staff, and Brax strained with both hands to lift the blade and cross swords with his dwarf tutor. After holding their position for a moment, Ruskin flicked his wrist down and sent a stinging pain searing across Brax’s left thigh.
“What was that for?” he yelled out, rubbing his leg.
Ruskin chuckled. “Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention. Now, let’s try again.”
They practiced for the better part of an hour. Brax’s movements were slow and uncoordinated with the heavy blade. He could barely stand from the strain of wielding the sword, and the numerous hits from Ruskin’s staff were still stinging his arms and legs, when the dwarf finally called a halt.
“That’ll do.” He stepped back and tossed his staff to the ground. “I’m getting hungry.”
Braxton collapsed next to the fire, his body aching. His stomach rumbled from the lack of food, encouraged by the scent of Gavin’s cooking. His friend handed him a bowl of stew, which he gulped down, before noticing a weak smile on Gavin’s face for the first time since joining them.
Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates Page 3
