Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates

by Jeff J. Peters

  “What happened to them?” Braxton asked, captivated by the story.

  Bendarren smiled and ate some of the fruit, drinking from his water goblet and leaving Ruskin to finish the ale. When he’d paused long enough, he continued.

  “Unfortunately, although the human race grew rapidly, they looked to the Elhunarie to solve all their problems, to provide for them, and to correct every hardship that mankind endured. In short, they became dependent upon the masters and worshiped them as gods themselves—‘the gods within the four lands,’ they called them. The Elhunarie decided then that in order to allow the human race to continue to grow through its own natural evolution, through its own self-experiences, that they, the descendants of the lesser gods, should depart this world. And so the Elhunarie left the earth, leaving the races to fend for themselves.

  “Before going, however, they too pulled from deep within the forms they’d used to traverse this world, as guided by the One, and placed parts of their own essence into twelve relics. These are the spirit swords, Braxton, of which you carry the Unicorn Blade. These they gave to the leaders of men to help counsel the human race and to maintain a connection to the masters, through which guidance could still be given.”

  “I thought there were only nine swords,” Braxton said.

  “No, there are twelve.” Bendarren took another drink from his goblet. “The number is significant, as it represents the twelve original Children that came from the One, the twelve lesser gods that divided from them, and the twelve Elhunarie who came to the earth. The last two of these are sometimes referred to as the Greater Council of Twelve and the Lesser Council of Twelve. The reason mankind believes there are only nine blades is because three of them are actually not swords. These were given to different races of the world, remaining unseen by the land of men even today. In truth they should be called the spirit weapons rather than the spirit swords, but that is not important.”

  Braxton wasn’t sure he understood everything Bendarren had said, but he nodded anyway, and the elf smiled kindly.

  “And who is this Dark Child?” Phinlera asked. “And the Witch Sisters?”

  “The Dark Child is an elf,” Bendarren said simply, seeing their surprised faces. “Born of Arbor Loren.

  “Understand that elves do not experience any of the negative emotions carried by many of the other races of the world. We have no hatred or jealousy. Our strong do not victimize our weak, and greed and power are nonexistent within the woodland realm. To keep this purity and our immortality, one child is born to us every few hundred years who carries all the negative emotions of our entire race. All these traits that would destroy other nations are born within this one child, this Dark Child, and they come to us with these emotions intact.

  “To keep the elven race pure, the Dark Child is sacrificed at birth, given back to the One so we may flourish as a people.”

  “He’s killed?” Phinlera exclaimed. “That’s barbaric!” Brax too was surprised that the elves, a nation known for its compassion and enlightened thinking, would commit such an atrocity upon one of their own.

  “He or she is sacrificed for the good of the elven people, yes,” Bendarren clarified.

  “Then how could the Dark Child be the cause of the Min attacks on the west?” Brax was confused.

  “A little less than a century ago, a male child was born to us with this trait. As is our custom, we prepared to return him at the moment of birth. Unfortunately”—Bendarren took a deep breath—“we failed.

  “There was an attack on the ritual ceremony by two very evil creatures, the Witch Sisters of Dahgmor, ancient and magical beings of tremendous power. All but two of us in attendance that night were killed, and the Dark Child was taken by the Witch Sisters and raised in shadow. It is they, I suspect, who are the real instigators of the Min invasion.

  “As the Dark Child has approached manhood,” Bendarren continued, “all the evil emotions of hatred, fear, and power have begun to creep back into our people. I think your experience with Kael today, Brax, is an example of this. But you must not judge our Blademaster too harshly, for he is battling a much greater war within himself than you can possibly imagine. You see, Braxton, Kael was the only other elf to survive the attack from the Witch Sisters that night, and it was his charge to ensure our safety and thus the destruction of the Dark Child. Kael therefore carries not only the burden of failing to protect us, but also the knowledge that he has allowed the evil emotions that could destroy our nation to creep back into the elven people.”

  Brax and Phin both let out a deep breath, understanding now the reason behind Kael’s initial attack and the weight of failure he must carry.

  “Our Blademaster,” Bendarren said, “has sworn an oath to find and kill the Dark Child. However, we’ve never been able to locate him. Now, it seems, Kael may get his chance at last.”

  Chapter 24

  Awaken, child, Serene said, pulling Brax from his dreams.

  He got up, tired from the lack of sleep and events of the night before. The elves, he’d discovered, had created a feast in his honor, a festival for the coming of an Elhunarie back into their forest. Despite their focus on preparing for war, they still found time to create a banquet for all to enjoy. Many had attended, arriving in periodic waves throughout the night, staying awhile to celebrate, and welcoming Braxton into their woodland realm before continuing with their night’s duties. The event went on until late into the early morning hours, including much singing and dancing in which Braxton was obliged to participate. Even King Eilandoran had attended, staying just long enough for Bendarren to introduce him.

  “We are honored by your coming,” the king said before departing, surrounded by a group of attendants.

  Brax, however, found the whole event uncomfortable. Unaccustomed to attention back home, he’d been suddenly thrust into a distinguished position within elven society, recognized now as the Chosen of Serene. It was an unexpected experience, and one he hoped not to repeat. While the dancing, music, and endless fare for which the elves were renowned awed him, he would’ve preferred to attend as just one of many rather than the honored guest.

  It was well past midnight when he finally went to sleep. Bendarren had shown them to separate rooms at different heights in a guest oak adorned with silver leaves. Ruskin, however, had flatly refused to ascend the tree, settling instead for a makeshift bed on the floor of the ground level.

  Brax admired the predawn light on the forest, standing now by the half wall in his room that seemed customary in the elven homes. He wondered if it would be the same wherever he went—if he’d have to endure a life of constant focus from those around him rather than the quiet anonymity he’d previously enjoyed.

  Will home ever be the same again? He sighed heavily at how dramatically his life had changed. But it was worth it, he thought, for his connection with Serene.

  He descended the wooden stairs inside the tree, listening to Ruskin’s snoring growing louder as he approached the dim light emanating from below.

  “Good morning,” Bendarren said, as Brax entered the room. Kael stood beside him, the red cloth of Balen-Tar visible above his shirt.

  The Blademaster inclined his head. “Are you ready to begin?”

  It took Braxton a moment to realize what the elf meant, but then he remembered the training Serene had required of the Blademaster.

  “I am,” he said, trying to sound prepared, even though he still felt sleepy.

  “Then I take you into my charge,” Kael spoke proudly, turning toward the door and indicating for Braxton to go.

  He guided Brax to a clearing outside the capital city just as morning’s light broke through the trees. Braxton liked the place the elf had chosen—quiet and away from everyone else. He felt he’d met half the elven nation last night and was grateful to be alone with the Blademaster.

  “Eat first,” Kael suggested, handing him a wrapped cloth containing some small vegetable cakes and a few clusters of nuts and other forest grains.
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br />   The clumps were held together by a flavorful honey that energized him, clearing his mind and awakening him fully. Kael watched Brax consume the meal and drink from a waterskin the Blademaster handed him. When he was done, Braxton drew the Unicorn Blade, ready to begin.

  “No, Brax,” Kael said gently, raising a hand. “Put it aside for the moment.”

  He looked at the elf, then sheathed his weapon, unstrapped it from his back, and set it down.

  “Take some deep breaths and fill your body with the morning air.”

  Brax breathed in the forest’s crisp scent as Kael walked around him. Then he placed a hand on Braxton’s stomach.

  “Breathe so you push my hand away.”

  The Blademaster showed him how long to hold his breath, what to do with his chest and stomach, and how to fill his lungs completely. Brax felt as if he was learning to breathe all over again, as if he’d been doing it wrong his entire life.

  Patiently Kael guided him through the movements, placing his hand against various parts of Brax’s upper body, checking the rise and fall of his efforts.

  “Good,” he said at last. “Now, stand with your feet apart and place your right foot ahead of your left, like this.”

  For the remainder of the morning, the Blademaster taught him how to stand, how far to bend his knees, where to place his arms, and how to rest his weight on the front of his feet. All the while, he instructed Braxton on his breathing, clarifying the actions that needed correcting.

  They stopped briefly at midday for another meal of forest berries, fruits, and cheese. Already fatigued, Brax drank liberally from Kael’s waterskin. When he was done, the Blademaster showed him how to move forward and back on his feet, when to shift his weight, and how to feel his connection with the ground beneath him. He had Braxton turn left and right, got him to step up quickly onto a fallen tree by the clearing’s edge, and then just as quickly drop back down. He taught him how to pivot in place more fluidly and how to recognize when his body was weakening.

  Late in the afternoon, Kael pulled the log into the center of the glade and had Brax move forward and back across its length, balancing on the narrow trunk. He stopped Braxton at times to hold his weight first on one foot, then the other. The Blademaster touched parts of Brax’s legs, pushed here and there on his muscles to show him where his weaknesses were, repositioned his feet, and instructed him on how to strengthen his posture, constantly reminding him to breathe.

  When evening came, he tied a cloth around Brax’s eyes and had him repeat some of the exercises blindfolded. Braxton found it much more difficult without the benefit of his sight or the confidence of knowing his surroundings. Kael, though, was an excellent instructor and taught him how to trust his body and his intuition, encouraging him at every turn. He helped Brax rely on other senses besides his sight and showed him how to gain awareness with his entire body.

  By the time they stopped and Kael led him back to the guest oak, Brax was totally exhausted. Even though he hadn’t swung the Unicorn Blade even once, his entire body felt drained. Every muscle ached from the intensity of the exercises, and yet he was sure the Blademaster had barely scratched the surface of what he knew. For a moment, he wondered if he was up to the challenge, but he thanked Kael nonetheless when they arrived and promised to continue in the morning. Seeing no one else around, Braxton crossed the empty hall, ascended the staircase to his room, and collapsed on his bed.

  * * *

  The following day, he returned with Kael to the clearing. Brax’s muscles ached from the previous day’s exercises, but he didn’t complain. He knew he needed to learn to fight properly with the Unicorn Blade, and that time was not on their side. They repeated the actions from the day before, stopping at midmorning.

  “Now,” Kael said, “unsheathe the spirit sword.”

  Braxton felt a sense of exhilaration at his words, as if he’d finally earned the right to draw Serene’s weapon. He grabbed the wooden handle and pulled it free.

  Kael inspected his grip. Then one by one he started repositioning each of Braxton’s fingers.

  “You need to place your hands here and here,” the Blademaster said, moving them apart. “This gives you strength, these fingers add agility, and placing your palm here adds balance.”

  For over an hour, he instructed Brax on just how to hold the weapon, what to do with his hands based upon the type of strike he intended, and which part of his palm to use. Finally, he showed Braxton how to swing the Unicorn Blade. When he did so, the movement flowed easily, as if the sword almost swung itself.

  “You see, Brax, learning the basics is the key to becoming a master.”

  For several hours Braxton maneuvered the sword under Kael’s direction. His body ached, but he didn’t complain. The Blademaster had him swing the weapon in the same arc over and over until Braxton’s muscles strained. All the while, he adjusted Brax’s posture, kneeling down at times to move his feet or standing next to him and lifting his arms. Sometimes he stood behind Brax, adjusting his shoulders or aligning his hips. Occasionally he’d wrap his hands over Braxton’s and perform the movements with him, guiding his actions, allowing him to feel the perfect swing. Throughout the motions, the Blademaster’s primary instruction remained the same. “Breathe.”

  “Now,” Kael said in the late afternoon when Brax stopped for a drink. “I want you to summon the spirit magic.”

  Braxton stared at him in surprise. He had no idea the Blademaster knew anything about spirit magic.

  “If time was not an issue for us,” the elf continued, “I’d have you practice for another month before proceeding, but that’s not a luxury we have.”

  “What . . . do you want me to do?”

  “Within your heart’s center, bring up the energy that your sword’s master has given you. Let it flow into every part of your body, every muscle, every thought, throughout your very essence and into the weapon. Feel the blade becoming a part of yourself, and allow the spirit magic to bind you.”

  Braxton stared at him.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I . . . I just didn’t realize you knew about the spirit magic.”

  Kael chuckled. “That energy is part of everyone and everything we are, Brax. It lives inside all of us. The sword, for you, is a catalyst—a doorway for finding what naturally exists in all beings. You are fortunate to have such a tool that has awoken its abilities in you. For most of us, it takes years to find.”

  Braxton nodded, not quite understanding. He closed his eyes and summoned the spirit magic. Instantly it responded, intensified by his recent exercises, and it coursed through him, bringing with it that same uplifting feeling. Enjoying the sensation, he directed the energy as Kael had instructed, guiding it into his limbs, pumping the energy outward throughout his body, strengthening his form. Then he sent the energy into the Unicorn Blade, connecting it through his hands. The sword reacted, lightening to his grip, intensifying the vibration, and extending an invisible tendril back from the pommel to the Chosen Cross on his chest, increasing the euphoric feeling.

  “Good,” Kael said. “Very good. You’ve used the energy before, I see. Your connection to it and the sword are stronger than I’d expected. Now repeat what we practiced.”

  Opening his eyes, Braxton replayed the actions, feeling the fluidity of his movements and the weapon. For a brief moment, he seemed to glide along the forest floor—almost as if moving without intention.

  When he stopped, he looked back at Kael, waiting for further instruction.

  “You’ve done well, Brax, better than I’d hoped for.” The Blademaster nodded his approval. “We’ll stop here for today and continue again in the morning. And tomorrow, we’ll duel.”

  Chapter 25

  When Braxton arrived at the guest oak, he was energized from the day’s experience and the remaining spirit magic still flowing through him. Unlike the night before, he felt exhilarated, as if he’d drunk from some wondrous spring of life that gave him unlimited energy. Even his
aching muscles felt better. He understood now how the elves could go for days without tiring.

  Entering the familiar wooden building that had become his elven home, he was surprised to see Penton and Gavin laughing with Phinlera. His brother got up as soon as he saw him.

  “There you are!” He walked over and hugged Brax.

  “Pen!” Brax exclaimed, returning the warm embrace. “When’d you arrive?”

  “Oh, we made it to Almon-Sen yesterday morning, but it took us a while to convince the elves to let us in and even longer to find out where you were staying. We only got here an hour ago.”

  “Good to see you,” Gavin added, extending his hand after the brothers had parted. Braxton shook his grip, then bent down to scratch Bear, the elkhound trotting over from under the table to nuzzle him.

  Ruskin puffed away on his pipe, a mug of ale in one hand.

  “They were just telling us about their journey,” Phinlera explained. “Come, sit and listen. Have you eaten?”

  “No, I’m starved. Kael’s been working me hard.” He turned to introduce the Blademaster, but the elf was gone.

  “Come on, Brax,” Phin called again.

  He stared at the door, disappointed at not being able to introduce Kael or thank him for the lesson. He joined the others and helped himself to some stew and bread that had been laid out.

  “I saw Mom today,” his brother said as Braxton began eating. “We spent a long time together, and she told me what you’d done. You saved her life, you know.”