“Let it go,” Penton repeated, as if understanding Brax’s internal struggle. “We should go inside and talk with mom.” He started toward the door.
“Pen!”
His brother turned back to look at him.
“Thanks,” Brax said.
Penton smiled. “Come on, little brother.”
Hello, Brax! His mom’s voice burst into his mind as they approached the tree, feeling her warming presence wrap around him. I’m so relieved to see you and Pen, returning safely together.
“Mom!” he cried, and Penton jumped.
I love you both and am so very grateful for all you’ve done to help me, the elves, and Andorah. Thank you, she said.
So much has happened since we left. Brax connected with her. He took a deep breath and finally let go.
I know. She warmed him in her essence. We’ve been watching from afar. Both you and Pen have learned and lost much through this horrible war—things I would not have wished for either of you, but which a mother can no longer protect you from. They will stay with you for a long, long time, these experiences. Now come inside. She grew more cheerful. Come and share with us.
Hopeful that his mom meant Phinlera, Braxton ran to the door and pushed it open.
“Dad!” he said. His father stood in the small room. The house resembled their cottage back home, but with a spiral staircase disappearing up in the center of the tree. Bear trotted past them to the opposite end, wagging his tail as if looking for food.
“Hello, boys!” their dad said, beaming at his sons’ safe return. “It’s good to see you both so well.” Leaning heavily on his cane, he walked over and hugged them together.
Our family is reunited, their mom added.
“This is your home then?” Penton asked when they’d separated. “In Mom’s tree.” He stepped back and looked around. “I knew there had to be a reason for it being here.” He glanced at Brax, who looked away, ashamed.
“It is,” their dad replied. “I’ve decided to live here with Mom, where we can be together in this beautiful place within the forest. My time in Oak Haven has ended. This is where I belong now and will live out my days.”
Pen saw their dad’s emotional reaction and changed the subject. “When did you arrive? Why didn’t we see you before?”
“The elves said I missed you by three days. You both departed Arbor Loren on separate paths but thankfully have returned together. I’ve been here with Mom ever since, and we’ve been watching your journey—well, your mom’s been doing the watching and tells me what she sees from her connection with the elves. We’re very proud of both of you.”
Braxton avoided his dad’s eyes, still embarrassed by his earlier anger at seeing the house in his mom’s tree. He looked around at the wooden table and few chairs, one of which had a footstool in front to it. Their dark polished oak matched the floor, walls, and ceiling, and silk pillows of forest greens covered the chairs. Although sparsely furnished, he recognized a few items from Oak Haven, helping to give the home a welcoming feeling.
“I’m leaving the forge to you,” their dad said to Penton. “The family business is yours now. You know it well and have learned much. Oak Haven will be lucky to have you as its smith.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll make you proud,” Pen joked.
“You already have,” Thadeus replied. “And you, Brax.” He turned to face him, leaning on his cane. “We’re leaving the cottage to you . . . and Phinlera. We hope you’ll be happy there together.”
“Phin!” Braxton exclaimed. “Where is she?”
He saw a movement out the corner of his eye, near the central staircase that divided his dad’s bedroom with a small kitchen farther back in the tree. Phinlera stood there with Bear, who was wagging his tail.
“You’re alive!” He ran over and embraced her warmly, lifting her off her feet.
She cringed. “Careful, Brax, I’m not yet healed.” She pulled away and held her side. “But it’s really great to see you.” She leaned forward and kissed him fully on the mouth. “I missed you,” she added more quietly, so the others couldn’t hear.
“Me too, Phin, more than you know.”
They spent the remainder of the day talking and enjoying the time together, sharing their respective stories. Brax and Pen did most of the talking, retelling their view of the war in the Breaker Dunes, fighting the Mins, and the final confrontation between Sotchek and Morgaroth.
Phinlera wept softly when Penton mentioned Gavin. Brax held her close and swallowed hard, trying to be strong.
“I’m sorry about Sotchek,” she said, when the conversation moved on. “I wish I could’ve been there to help.”
“I should’ve done more for him.” Brax shook his head and looked down at the table. “But it all happened so fast. One minute I thought Sotchek was going to win, and the next he was gone. I didn’t even have time to react. Morgaroth tricked me, and Sotchek paid the price for my stupidity.”
“Don’t be se hard on yerself, lad!” Brax looked up and saw Ruskin standing in the doorway. “Ya’ve done better than ya give yourself credit fer.” He took the pipe from his mouth and entered the room. “Good to see you, Thadeus.” He shook their dad’s hand. “So this is where you ended up, eh? A bit sparse, ain’t it?” The dwarf dropped down into the chair with the footstool, put his feet up, and kicked off his boots. “Any chance for a bit of ale and some of Jen’s sausages? Muffins would be nice too. The food here is made for birds and mules—all seeds and grasses. I need some real meat!” He took a puff on his dying pipe then looked at it curiously, turned it upside down, and whacked it a few times against the side of his chair. Ashes fell onto the clean floor.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Thadeus got up and limped toward the kitchen. “Always a pleasure, Ruskin.”
“Yours or mine?” He stuck his thumb into the pipe and turned it a few times to clean it. More dead embers fell, and he licked his finger. “There’s a council tomorrow,” Ruskin said, still looking at his pipe. “We’re all supposed to attend—guests of honor or something equally stupid. Anyway, ya’d better be ready for fanfare and boring speeches, the elves are known for it. No ’fense, Jen.” He raised his hand toward the ceiling, acknowledging their mom.
None taken, Braxton heard her reply. Never from you, old friend. Never from you.
Chapter 45
Braxton jumped, hearing something that seemed out of place in the forest. It alerted his senses and brought him quickly awake, scattering the dream he could now no longer remember. He lay in the dark of his little room, high up in the boughs of his mom’s tree, a tiny space barely large enough for a single bed. They’d gone to bed late and the strain of exhaustion pulled at him, his body pleading for more rest. But he forced himself to stay up, listening for the sound to come again. He could hear the solitary tune of some nearby songbird and the occasional distant hoot of an owl echoing in the forest, but nothing unusual. He knew that call, he thought. What was it?
Then he remembered. The sound flooded back into his memory as if hearing it for the first time, and a cold shiver ran down his skin. The scream of the wyvern. Stunned, he didn’t move. How could it possibly be in Arbor Loren? Had he really heard it, or had it been just another dream? He strained to listen, waiting to see if it repeated, hoping it wasn’t real.
What is it? His mom’s quiet voice entered his mind, surprising Brax.
Nothing, he said. I just heard something I didn’t expect.
What was it?
Nothing important. I’m sorry to have woken you.
She laughed quietly. I no longer sleep. Not the way you think of it, anyway, at least not until winter.
He nodded.
I don’t sense anything unusual, she added after a moment. Perhaps you were just dreaming?
Probably.
He got up and pulled on his long shirt to ward off the breeze blowing in from the open end of his room. It was not yet dawn, and he looked out over the forest’s canopy, thick with summertime leaves.
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br /> I need to tell you something, he said, reaching out again to connect with his mom. What happened to me during the fight with Morgaroth.
I am here.
When I stood up and faced it, when I first stood my ground and the spirit magic assaulted it from within me, I connected with Morgaroth as though I was a part of it, and it a part of me. As if we were one. In that moment, our energy seemed to join, and I could feel its hatred and its desire for power and to hurt or enslave everyone around it. It was a terrible experience.
That is a foul creature, his mom replied, as if preferring not to speak of it. And I am sorry, Braxton, that you had to face it. That you had to feel its negativity, that you were asked to do this for us, for me, for the elves.
I’m not, he said quickly. I’m glad to have helped, Mom. What’s bothering me is that I saw in it what I could become. As if Morgaroth was a reflection of all the dark parts of myself. Then when I first saw Dad’s house built into your tree, I wanted to attack whoever did that to you. I wanted to inflict . . . pain. He shut his eyes tightly and sat back on his bed, ashamed.
His mom was quiet for a while before responding.
Understand, Braxton, that your life is interwoven now with the spirit magic, and that there are many others like you, connected to it, although it exhibits itself through them in different ways. What you need to know is that what you do with the energy is a choice you have to make. Some will choose to use it for good, to help and to heal themselves and others, to build and create, and to better all life around them. Others, like Morgaroth—she said the name as if it pained her—choose to use it for power and to control those who have yet to awaken. That, Braxton, is the only thing that separates the two of you, the only difference between light and dark—a simple choice of how you choose to use your energy. It is that choice, given to you freely by the One, that defines your actions and will ultimately determine who and what you’ll become.
“Then I choose to be light,” he said aloud.
That is an easy choice to make here and now in the calm and safety of my tree. But will you make that same decision when faced with the opportunity to control the lives of many, or to stop the death of someone you love, or to save our village back home? Would you make that choice, not to hurt or control another and to only use your power for good, if Phinlera’s life lay in the balance? That, Braxton, will be your greatest test. Not facing a creature like Morgaroth, but facing yourself.
When she finished speaking, she withdrew.
For a long time, Brax thought about what she’d said—about facing his own dark emotions and overcoming them in the face of the power to influence the lives of many or of the one he loved. Perhaps that was the inevitable test to awakening the spirit magic within him, proving himself worthy. He lifted his shirt and ran his fingers over the Chosen Cross. Those two small interconnected circles burned into his chest had irrevocably changed his life—for better, he knew. Of that there could be no doubt. But to truly master the Unicorn Blade and to become a Wielder like those of old, he would have to do more. He’d need to maintain self-control and mental discipline. He’d have to keep his emotions in check in the power of the spirit magic that had intertwined itself so completely now with the very fabric of his life. He was no longer just a blacksmith’s son in some faraway village no one cared about. He’d been given a gift, an opportunity to go beyond what he might otherwise have become, to do more than what was normally expected from everyday life. This energy, this spirit magic that had awakened him, as his mom described it, was dependent upon him making the right choices every day and using its power for the betterment of many. It would take time to master, he knew, and it would be challenging, but the alternative was to become like Morgaroth.
“I can’t do this alone,” he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I need help.” He needed Serene, he realized. He desperately needed her guidance to teach him how to stay calm and in control of his emotions, to help him recognize the consequences of his actions. To be a moral compass by which to measure his life.
He thought about all he’d done, all he’d experienced since leaving Oak Haven—seemingly a lifetime ago. Descending the spiral staircase, he paused outside Phinlera’s room and considered waking her, but left her to rest. He needed time to think. He was calmer now, knowing she was safe. He continued down, listening to Ruskin’s familiar drone filling the lower boughs of his mom’s tree. When he reached the bottom, Brax smiled at the sight of the dwarf still fast asleep in his dad’s chair, lying exactly where he’d sat the night before, his face slumped and buried in his thick beard. Bear lifted his head from the rug he was laying on as Brax crossed to the door and watched him go.
Stepping out into the early morning, he found a light mist had settled on the forest. He breathed it in, enjoying its refreshing sensation. Brax always loved early mornings and the calmness they brought. Regardless of what had happened the day before, mornings always offered another chance, a new opportunity to start again. Perhaps this was his opportunity, his chance to start his life again as a Wielder, aware now of his emotions and the need to keep them in balance. To keep his mind at peace.
He wandered among the trees of Arbor Glen, seeing a few attendants moving about the gargantuan oaks in the otherwise seemingly deserted forest. Finding himself moving toward Almon-Fey, he turned away from that path, not wishing to interact with the more numerous elves. Their gratitude and endless offerings wherever he went were becoming overwhelming, and he just wanted some time alone to think. The elves seemed to recognize his need for solitude and kept their distance, some even going so far as to step onto other trails whenever they found themselves approaching along the same path. Braxton was grateful for their understanding. It allowed his mind the freedom to wander, to recall again the fight between Morgaroth and Sotchek. He thought about how the creature had tricked him, breaking his concentration long enough to allow it time to escape. He was past chiding himself for his lack of attention to Morgaroth’s ploy, but was not yet ready to be rid of the guilt he felt for not having done more to protect his big friend—someone who’d saved his life on numerous occasions. He carried the weight of that knowledge with him like a tangible backpack.
It was late morning when he returned, watching the light dance among the tree’s darkening summer leaves and numerous flowers on the forest floor. He marveled at his mom’s exquisite form and the abundant pink roses interspersed among her branches. Several lay at her feet or on the roof of the house, and he was reminded that time was passing. Sooner rather than later, they’d have to make the journey home to Oak Haven. Brax sighed heavily at the thought.
Phinlera came out of the cottage, and his spirits rose as she smiled and waved at him. He jogged down the small rise to where she stood on the porch and kissed her. Embracing, they enjoyed the wonderful sensation of their shared feelings for each other. She flinched when he tried to hug her too tightly, and pulled away, touching her side.
“I need to show you something.” She stepped off the porch, drawing his attention away from her wound. “Something you need to know.”
“What is it?” He followed her to one side of his mom’s tree. Phin moved slower than normal, but he didn’t ask about her wound. He knew she was reluctant to talk about it, and he was just happy to be with her again. She looked so pretty in the late morning light. Her lush black hair had been pulled back in an elven ribbon of leaves, a few wisps falling gently to touch her brow, accentuating her beautiful eyes. She led him to the back of the tree, then stopped and pointed up.
Her smile faded.
It is nothing. Pay it no heed, his mom said as she connected with him. Don’t worry yourself over trivial concerns.
“What is it? I don’t see anything.” Brax looked up at the oak.
Phinlera pulled him closer, to the very opposite side of where his dad’s house was built into the trunk, almost hidden from view.
“Look,” she said sadly, pointing to a branch about a dozen feet up.
A dead limb extended from his mom’s otherwise life-laden form. The entire branch, as thick as his arm and three times his length, hung limp and brittle. Its leaves, once lush and abundant, were withered and dry, and a black, pitch-like growth covered the branch, spreading out toward its neighbors.
“Mom, what is that?” he called out in alarm. “What’s happening to you?”
“Braxton,” Phinlera said calmly beside him. “Look at me.” She took his face in both hands, her smooth, soft skin touching the sides of his unshaven chin. Slowly she forced him to look into her exquisite brown eyes, droplets forming in their corners.
“It was your mom who healed me.” A single perfect tear trickled down her cheek and fell onto her breast. “She was the only one who could.” Phin placed a finger on his lips before he could reply. “She drew the wyvern’s venom from my body and into her own form, burying it deep within the forest floor, dispersing it through her extensive root system and out into the earth, diluting its strength. Yes, Braxton, your mom saved my life. But . . . at a terrible price.” She let go of him and glanced away for a moment, ashamed. Then, determined to go on, she looked back into his surprised face.
“Some of the venom remained in her body and seeped into her branches, and . . . they died.” She said it simply, as if telling him the end of something he had not wanted to hear, like closing the book on a chapter in his life.
“Mom!” he yelled, pulling away from Phinlera and looking up into the tree.
It is all right, Braxton. He heard her calm voice. I knew the risks when I offered to help. It was my choice, and mine alone to make. You and Phinlera have a lifetime ahead of you, and she deserves to be whole and strong. In time, her wound will heal, and it will be but a distant memory that occasionally reminds you of an old experience you once had, long ago.
Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates Page 30
