Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates

by Jeff J. Peters

The Hunter who’d hit Ruskin handed him the Unicorn Blade, then backed away.

  For a moment, no one stirred.

  A rush of air broke the silence as a thick bolt hit Zacharias in the shoulder, flinging him back a dozen paces or more and pinning him to a tree.

  Good! Serene exclaimed. It was the most excitement Brax had heard her express, and he jumped at the sudden response. Awaken the energy now, child, then wait. Focus on the ones by the horses.

  He called upon the spirit magic, summoning its full strength. It responded instantly, as if lying just beyond his consciousness, awaiting his call. He held the energy, trying to stop its power from releasing, barely able to contain its strength. But he waited.

  The Hunters all faced the trees. There stood the largest man Brax had ever seen. Easily a foot taller than everyone else, with shoulders twice as wide, a broad head, and a flat, square chin. His smooth-rimmed leather hat was pulled down over his long hair, casting a shadow across the man’s face. In one hand he held an enormous crossbow, which Braxton guessed was the source of the bolt that still pinned Zacharias to the tree. His other hand grasped an ax that looked small for the man’s size, but which Braxton imagined would’ve required most of his strength to lift. Standing at the edge of the forest, he watched the Hunters.

  “The mountain man!” one of the sling-wielding men exclaimed, and he and the others in his group backed away, obviously familiar with this newcomer.

  “Hold your ground!” the muscular Hunter barked, stepping forward. But the tanned men ignored him, turned, and fled, disappearing among the rocks. The leader of the Hunters swore, then looked at the big man.

  “You’ve interfered with our business for the last—” he started to say, but stopped short as the ax stuck in his chest, knocking him to the ground.

  The remaining Hunters in the gully surged forward, then halted abruptly as the mountain man dropped his crossbow and drew an enormous sword from across his back, which he held aloft in both hands, ready to strike. The wide-eyed Hunters stared at the massive weapon. Taking quick advantage of their hesitation, their big opponent stepped closer and swung his sword in a low arc, decapitating the man closest to him.

  Now! Serene’s voice echoed in Brax’s mind.

  He turned as best he could and released the full force of the energy on the guards at the horses. The power of the spirit magic broke upon them like a pent-up storm, its thunderous burst flinging the unfortunate Hunters back several yards and causing a loud thunderclap to echo down the ravine, startling the horses. The unexpected sound, along with the sight of the mountain man, their dead leader with the ax still buried in his chest, and their decapitated companion, was too much for the remaining Hunters. They turned and fled, leaving Braxton and his friends alone with the giant man. Their rescuer stepped up to them.

  “I am Sotchek,” he said in a deep, resounding voice. “And I offer you my help.”

  Chapter 18

  Braxton couldn’t thank the big man enough and introduced himself and the others. Sotchek didn’t respond. He drew a hunting knife from his belt and cut their cords.

  “We’re making for Arbor Loren,” Brax continued, rubbing his wrists. “Any help you could provide would be most welcome.”

  Ruskin grumbled at the request, but nodded his agreement.

  Sotchek looked up at the sky. The others followed his gaze and could see a few sparrows and some crows flitting about above the trees, and another bird far overhead, a tiny dot against the azure background. They couldn’t understand what the big man was staring at so intently.

  “We need to go.” Sotchek picked up the Unicorn Blade and falchion, and handed them to Braxton and the dwarf.

  Phinlera bent down next to the decapitated Hunter, swallowing hard at the sight of the man’s body still oozing blood. She peeled back the fingers of his hand and claimed his small curved sword for herself.

  “I hate to steal from the dead.” She stood up quickly and looked at them. “But I need a weapon.”

  Braxton nodded, seeing the uneasy look on her face. His eyes fell unwillingly on the man’s severed form, and he turned away.

  Sotchek walked over to the dead leader and retrieved his ax before rolling him over with a booted foot to lie facedown. He picked up the sack of coins that the man had dropped, tied it to his belt, and strode over to where Zacharias was still pinned to the tree.

  “He’s alive,” he said, a broad hand pressed against Zacharias’ neck.

  Ruskin checked him as well. “Barely. His breath is weak. We should just take his head and be done with it.”

  “No!” Braxton stepped closer, the thought of more killing bothering him. “Let him go.”

  Sotchek pulled the thick, spear-like bolt from Zacharias’ shoulder and walked back to the forest, leaving Zacharias in a crumpled heap.

  “There are more Hunters coming. We should go. Now.” He picked up his crossbow and disappeared among the trees. Braxton, Ruskin, and Phinlera stood looking at one another, trying to decide whether to follow their rescuer or make their own way north. A second later, they ran after the mountain man.

  They found him waiting for them, a large pack strapped to his back, the crossbow secured to it, and the throwing ax hanging loosely in his belt.

  “This way,” he said, then faded away into the forest.

  * * *

  For the remainder of the day and into the night, they followed their new guide, running periodically to keep up with the man’s long strides. He changed direction often, leading them through groups of pines, down gullies, and up the small streams that dotted the foothills of the Calindurin, all the while moving northeasterly. They occasionally stopped to catch their breath or to drink from the waterskin Sotchek carried. Each time they paused, their giant friend studied the sky, as if inspecting a detailed map.

  “They’re still following,” he said, during one such break late in the day. He looked at Braxton. “You carry a large price on your head. Or perhaps, like me, it’s your half-blood they fear.” Without waiting, he turned and led them on.

  It was approaching midnight before they finally stopped, finding shelter in a small cave that Sotchek had obviously frequented before. He moved aside some thick brush to reveal an opening in the rock.

  “We’ll rest till dawn. I’ll keep watch.” He handed Ruskin a small pack, along with the waterskin. “Get some rest. We have a long walk tomorrow.”

  He slipped away into the dark, leaving them alone in the cavern. Ruskin got a small fire going near the back wall, lighting their evening home and bringing much-needed warmth to the night.

  “Talkative fellow,” the dwarf said sarcastically, handing out some bread and cheese he found in the sack. “But I’m glad he happened upon us when he did, or we’d be near the Ridge by now.”

  Braxton furrowed his brow. “There’s something about him, though, that doesn’t make sense, as if he’s not quite comfortable in our presence.”

  “I noticed it too,” Phinlera agreed. “He’s obviously spent a lot of time alone, but he seems friendly enough—for now at least.”

  “I couldn’t care about his manners.” Ruskin chuckled. “If he can get us to Arbor Loren without any more delays, I’m happy to have him lead us.”

  The two nodded and consumed their cold meal. They settled in next to the fire after they’d finished and soon heard the dwarf’s snoring echoing in the cave.

  Phinlera rustled around on the hard stone floor, trying to get comfortable. “I want to ask you something.”

  Brax looked at her from where he lay. “What is it?”

  He could see the light dancing off her features, accentuating her cheekbones and reflecting in her bright eyes. He smiled, admiring how beautiful she looked. She responded warmly, causing his heart to leap.

  “I want to know about the sword,” she said more seriously.

  He didn’t respond right away. “I’ve been wondering if you’d ask me.”

  “I’m just not quite sure I’m ready.”

 
; “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve known you for a long time, Braxton Prinn. But lately you’ve done things I’ve never seen before, or even imagined could be done, and that scares me.”

  “It scared me too, at first,” he said quickly, “but I’m getting used to it now, and I think you should know.”

  She rolled onto her back and stared up at the smooth rock overhead, watching the firelight dance around on the ceiling, remaining quiet for a while.

  “I want to know,” she said at last. “I want to know how this has changed you.”

  Braxton looked at her. “I want to tell you,” he said. “I need to tell someone, and I want it to be you. Not here, not now. Maybe when we get to Arbor Loren.”

  She nodded. “I just don’t know how it will change things—our friendship, I mean, and that’s what scares me.”

  He sat up. “It doesn’t have to change anything.”

  “Maybe,” she said softly, “but you can’t be sure.”

  He thought about it for a long time as they lay in their little cave out in the Calindurin. Had the sword changed him that much? Was he no longer the boy who’d left Oak Haven a week ago? He knew he’d grown. He knew he’d taken on an experience he could never have imagined, and carried with him a greater responsibility now. But had it changed who he was inside? His feelings for Phinlera or the life he hoped they’d create together? He lay thinking about it in the dark, until, a few hours before dawn, sleep beckoned with its warm embrace, and he drifted.

  * * *

  Braxton awoke to the cool feeling of morning air blowing into the cave as Sotchek roused them. The fire was burning brightly, with a pot of meaty broth bubbling above it, wafting an enticing aroma throughout their otherwise cold, dark home. Their new guide handed each of them a small wooden bowl and they took turns helping themselves to portions of the food. The hot breakfast was a welcome treat—a mixture of vegetables, wild mushrooms, and small pieces of meat Brax hadn’t tasted before. It satisfied their stomachs with a warm, soothing sensation, strengthening their bodies and banishing their sleep.

  “I was able to direct the Hunters west,” Sotchek explained as they ate. “Today’s walk should be easier and will gain you much ground.”

  “Thank you,” Braxton replied, looking up from his bowl. “You’ve helped us so much. We’re in your debt.”

  The other two nodded, consuming their meal.

  “You said last night,” Brax added after blowing on his food, “that I, like you, am a half-breed. I’m uncertain what you meant.” He’d been thinking about it since wakening and wanted to know more about their large friend.

  Sotchek scrutinized him from his deep-set eyes hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. It made Braxton feel uncomfortable, as if the bigger man was looking right through him. He turned toward the fire, using the food as an excuse to look away.

  “You have elven blood,” Sotchek said at last.

  “Why . . . do you say that?”

  “You may look human, but your breath is from the forest.”

  No one spoke; they all stared at Sotchek.

  Brax nodded. “Yes. My mother is elvish.”

  “Are you going to Arbor Loren to see her?”

  “No. To save her. She was injured in an attack by the Mins, and I need to get to the forest to find help.”

  Sotchek stirred the stew in silence.

  “You said you were a half-breed,” Braxton pressed, “but I imagine you’re not elven.”

  Even as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d gone too far. The mountain man looked at him sharply, sending a sinking feeling down into Brax’s stomach.

  Be careful. Serene warned. Do not insult this one, for he is quick to anger, and we need him as an ally, not an enemy.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the camp as Sotchek stared at him. Braxton tried to act naturally, as if his question was normal, but his hands shook when he lifted his bowl. He quickly set it back down on his lap, hoping the big man hadn’t noticed. Ruskin lit his pipe and puffed on it calmly, helping to ease the tension.

  “This stew’s excellent,” Phinlera said, trying to help. “The meat’s pheasant, right?”

  Sotchek didn’t respond or even acknowledge her question. He just continued staring at Braxton, unmoving, as if even his breath had stopped and his large form had become part of the surrounding rock. Brax felt his skin crawl, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled in warning. He knew the other man could strike him from where he sat, and he’d be helpless to defend himself.

  Serene, he called out nervously. Help me. I never meant to insult him!

  Wait, she replied. Do not speak further. Let him respond first.

  Braxton took a breath to calm his nerves, and even managed to drink some of the broth without shaking too much.

  “It’s grouse,” Sotchek said, glancing at Phinlera, and causing Brax to jump and spill his stew down his shirt. The giant man’s face lightened, and the crease in his brow subsided.

  “I am part ogre,” he continued, watching their reaction. “My mother, like yours, wasn’t human.”

  “Oh,” Braxton choked out, trying to act natural, but he knew his response sounded strained.

  “My father was a trapper from Kharnus. He was attacked by a shale bear on the Ridge while hunting.”

  “Shale bears are vicious creatures,” Ruskin interjected, taking the pipe from his mouth pointedly and shaking his head. “My clansmen encounter them often in the Spine. We know better than to wrestle with ’em.”

  Sotchek turned toward the dwarf. “I think it was the first time my father had met one. It took him by surprise.”

  “Mmm.” Ruskin puffed on his pipe and nodded. “They do that in the Spine too.”

  “My mother’s village was nearby. She came across him lying in a ravine after the attack and nursed him back to health.”

  “I thought your people preferred not to associate with the lesser races.”

  “That is true,” Sotchek agreed, “but she took pity at seeing his broken form, all mangled and bleeding, and was cast out for doing so.”

  The dwarf nodded thoughtfully, as if fully understanding. Brax and Phin, however, kept quiet, unwilling to risk insulting Sotchek further on topics they knew nothing about.

  “We’d better go.” The big man got up.

  They stood quickly, doused the fire, and gathered their belongings. Within minutes, they were on their way again, their new guide leading them toward Almon-Sen. Ruskin grabbed Braxton’s arm as they left.

  “That was foolish, lad.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult him.”

  Rusk smiled at the pained expression on Braxton’s face. “No harm then,” he said, letting him go. “Just choose your words more carefully. We need this big fellow’s help.” He followed after Sotchek, leaving Brax and Phin to trail behind.

  The day passed uneventfully, and they saw no sign of the Hunters or any other travelers out on the central plains. They stopped late again to shelter in a small group of valley pines, enjoying another stew of Sotchek’s making. Braxton lay on a bed of fallen pine needles, worrying about the number of days that had passed since leaving home and wondering if his mom’s essence was still with him. He reached out to Serene for some answers, but she didn’t respond, and her silence only refueled his fears.

  Sotchek woke them early the following morning, well before sunrise.

  “This is where I leave you,” he said, towering above them as they lay on their makeshift beds, his pack already secured and the camp cleaned. “Continue north until you reach the great road crossing the plains. Turn east, and it will lead you to the elves.”

  “Thank you for everything,” Brax said, rising to his feet and extending his hand.

  Sotchek looked at him for a minute, brusquely shook his hand, then turned and walked away. Brax watched him go, saddened by the sudden departure. He was about to return to the camp when Sotchek raised his left elbow, and a small sparrow hawk swooped down to l
and on his outstretched arm. A moment later they were gone.

  They ate a cold breakfast from the sack Sotchek had left, then set out in the direction he’d indicated. By midday, they found the broad cobblestone “great road” winding through the plains, connecting Amberdeen to Almon-Sen. They turned east and walked for a few hours, eventually topping a small knoll that provided a panoramic view of their surroundings. In the distance stood the deep emerald forest of Arbor Loren. The trees extended for miles in either direction, from the far-off Dragon’s Spine in the north to the tips of Tail Ridge Peaks in the south.

  Braxton smiled at the sight, relieved, as if coming home—a home he’d never seen before but always knew existed. He let out a deep sigh, a breath he’d been holding since Oak Haven. It had taken them longer than expected to get there, and at times, he’d wondered if they’d ever make it, but now at last Arbor Loren was in sight.

  “Hold on, Mom,” he said quietly to himself. “Just a little longer. Hold on.”

  Chapter 19

  A mile from the elven forest, Ruskin stopped and turned to Braxton and Phinlera.

  “Do you see ’em yet?” he asked, jerking his head toward Arbor Loren.

  “See what?” Brax scanned the trees.

  “The elves! Do you see anyone in those damn woods?”

  Ruskin had been growing more and more agitated as they approached the elven kingdom, his obvious dislike for entering their woodland realm becoming increasingly apparent.

  Braxton strained his eyes, searching. Accustomed to finding deer, birds, and other woodland creatures back home, he was sure he’d see the elves if they were there. But nothing moved—only the continual swaying of the trees as the afternoon sun cast a golden light upon the canopy.

  “I don’t see anyone—just the trees.”

  The dwarf grunted in acknowledgment. “They’ve seen us by now,” he said, almost to himself, then started walking.

  “Do you see anything?” Brax asked Phin.

  “No people, but it looks like there’s some kind of netting running between the larger trunks a few layers in. Do you see it?” She pointed to the left of the road.