Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates
Page 33
“I love you, Dad,” Braxton said. His father’s dark eyes filled with tears. “You too, Mom,” he added, turning toward her tree.
We love you, his mom replied. And are very proud of you, and Penton, of all you’ve done and will still accomplish.
“Always remember that,” their dad emphasized.
Phinlera stepped over and hugged Brax’s father, holding him tight for a while.
“Thanks,” she said softly, “for everything you’ve done for us.” Then she placed her head on the tree, as Brax and Pen had done. “Thank you for welcoming me into your family. I promise to take care of Braxton all my life.” She wiped her face somewhat sheepishly, then picked up her pack and began fidgeting with the straps.
Following her lead, Brax shouldered his own pack, adjusting the weight of their gifts and provisions inside, before strapping on the Unicorn Blade.
“Bye,” he said simply, raising both hands toward his parents and looking at them for a moment. Then he took Phinlera’s palm, squeezed it gently, and called to Bear. They followed Bendarren out of Arbor Glen, Penton riding atop Cinnamon and leading Obsidian. Stopping at the crest of the hill for a final wave back, they turned and disappeared into the forest.
Chapter 48
Braxton and Phinlera stood by the Walking Gate in the heart of Almon-Fey, preparing to travel to Falderon, Oak Haven’s Gate still having not yet reopened. They said their goodbyes to Laefin and the elves, promising to return in the spring.
“I will forever be in your debt,” Brax said to Bendarren. “For all you’ve done for me, for Phinlera, and for my mom and my family. Thank you so very much.” He shook the elf’s hand in both of his.
“No, Braxton, my friend,” Bendarren replied. “It is I who am eternally grateful for all you have done to save my people, our nation, and this forest. Know that you will always be welcome here, and I shall forever seek to repay your kindness in whatever way I can.”
Phinlera hugged the elf, kissing him on the cheek and adding her sentiments as well. He smiled back at the gesture, placing a hand on the spot she’d touched, and inclining his head.
Brax embraced his brother, thinking of all the experiences they’d endured together and the bond between them that no spoken words could explain.
“Be careful,” Phin said, leaning up on her toes to hug Pen. “Be safe, and go fast.”
Saying their final farewells, Brax and Phinlera turned and, together with Bear, stepped through the Walking Gate.
The sudden hustle and bustle of a new, chilly market day in Falderon burst upon them, an unexpected and dramatic change from the calm of the elves. They looked at each other quickly, already missing Arbor Loren.
“You there,” a heavyset official yelled over to them, sitting behind a table, a half-dozen mail-clad guards standing nearby. “No animals allowed.” He pointed to Bear on the platform. “Pay your fine.”
“Move along,” another guard added closer by, urging them forward with all the other travelers arriving through the Gate.
“Sorry,” Phinlera replied, flashing the man a quick smile.
They walked over to the guard at the table—who had a thick mop of unruly black hair, an unshaven chin, and smelled heavily of alcohol and dried sweat—and paid the outrageous four-silver fee. Brax jostled their money pouch in his hand for a moment, feeling its lightened weight, then retied it to his belt.
“We’d best find Zambini’s soon,” he said to Phin, leading her and Bear off the platform.
They wound their way to the inn, where their surprised host welcomed them and insisted that they take a hot bath. After soaking in the waters for a while, they followed Zambini across the courtyard to his whitewashed home. A delighted Brennah overwhelmed them with meat pies and a few glasses of trill, which Brax particularly enjoyed. They spent the day with their friends, sharing the stories of all they’d endured since leaving Falderon. Their two boys, Kudu and Bendwhalie, had grown considerably and were even more rambunctious than before, wrestling and running around the house, often bumping into the furniture. Zambini listened intently to their long tale, considering each event and asking questions whenever he thought additional clarification was needed—in the process gaining much-needed information that his spy network had missed.
“Oh, you poor dears,” Brennah exclaimed whenever they described a particular dangerous event. While she continually refilled their mugs, the light in her eyes exposed a much greater intelligence than would have been expected of an innkeeper’s wife. Her occasional well-worded questions—especially when Braxton tried to hide his connection with Serene or the spirit magic—revealed a perceptive mind that often recognized when something was missing. Eventually, they got through their story with sufficient detail to satisfy their hosts, and Brennah stopped asking questions, although Zambini could have gone on forever. Thankfully, Brennah came to their aid, recognizing that they preferred to keep some things private, and she sent her husband back to the inn.
They stayed in Falderon for a few days. Brax, Phin, and Bear wandered among the busy plazas, visiting the stalls and little shops, finding trinkets and other small additions for their cottage back home. Life in the mountain city seemed largely restored, with commerce and trade resuming at its normal pace. Visitors, livestock, and makeshift accommodations no longer filled every road, back alley, or open space. Braxton and Phinlera found they enjoyed the city now, moving about more freely, though they quickly grew tired of the always-noisy streets and cramped bazaars, appreciating the full value of the elves’ more tranquil lifestyle. Eventually, they began to miss the simpler life in Oak Haven.
One clear morning, Brax found himself walking hand in hand with Phinlera, heading down the road that led west toward home. Farmers busily worked their fields, trying to catch up from time spent in the city while cows grazed on late summer grasses, fattening up for the coming winter. They stopped often to talk with travelers and spent their evenings sleeping in farmsteads or cottages that dotted the countryside, often talking with their families late into the morning hours.
It gave Braxton a wonderful sense of fulfillment to see the farms working again and to pass merchants on the road pushing carts or leading pack mules laden with goods. He breathed in deeply the scent of hay from the nearby barns and the sweet smell of baked pies or other home cooking that permeated the air. Mostly, though, he loved having Phinlera by his side. It was a drastic contrast to the last time he’d traveled this road with Ruskin and Gavin. There were no dead chickens lying in broken pens or wolf-ravaged livestock decaying in the sun. No unkempt fields or ransacked barnyards. And Phinlera’s pleasant company was so much more enjoyable than the prevailing mood of his previous companions.
On the morning of their fourth day, they stood on the west road thanking a farmer’s wife for lodging for the night and a warm breakfast in exchange for some chores, when a long line of wagons came rolling by. They stood aside to allow the procession to pass, watching them moving slowly toward their village, and waved at their drivers. Most were workmen moving stores of various kinds or traveling to the local farms. A few, with closed beds, belonged to families who lolled inside or carried possessions after returning home from some easterly travels. The rest were filled with freshly cut hay, with the very last wagon lagging a bit behind the others. Driven by an old man in a broad-brimmed straw hat that filtered light down onto his tanned face, he smiled kindly at Brax and Phin as he passed, and wished them a good morning.
Braxton had an idea. “Wait here,” he told Phin. He ran off down the road, calling for the man to stop. A few minutes later, he returned out of breath. “He’s delivering hay to Saddler’s farm. It took a little persuading, but he agreed to take on a couple of passengers and their dog. For a few coppers, that is.” He grinned.
They rode the rest of the morning in the back of the old man’s hay wagon, lying together on the soft bedding, talking and looking up at the clear sky, enjoying the summer sun and listening to birds flying overhead. Bear fell asleep as soon
as they were moving, taking full advantage of the rest from the previous day’s travels. An hour past midday, the wagon train stopped to water the horses by a little brook that ran through a clump of willows. Braxton and Phin sat together with their driver, enjoying a cold lunch. The man shared some fresh fruits and vegetables from a wicker basket he kept under his seat, and they reciprocated with their bread and cheese.
They set off again a little after the last wagon had departed, following a mile or so behind the rest of the procession. The old man removed his hat and wiped his brow with a spotted red handkerchief from his pocket, then mounted up again. He had pure white hair that shone in the afternoon sun but that covered only the sides of his otherwise bald head. His kind face was heavily lined from the passage of time and the years spent outdoors. Brax and Phin smiled at each other at seeing his aged look and offered him a drink from their elven waterskins. He drank deeply before thanking them and setting off again.
It was past sundown when they stopped outside Oak Haven and their driver let them off. They thanked him for his kindness and gladly paid the promised fare, waving as he pulled away toward Saddler’s farm.
“What a nice old man,” Phinlera said when he’d passed out of earshot. Brax had to agree. He hoisted his pack up onto his shoulders and watched the wagon as it turned down a small lane before veering out of sight.
They walked together through the few back roads of their village, with Bear running alongside or disappearing ahead, only to return a few moments later from a different direction. Turning onto the alleyway that led to the cobblestone street fronting their cottage, they finally came upon the old, familiar sight of Braxton’s home and stopped outside the little gate.
“It’s good to be back,” he said, taking a deep breath and smelling the evening air. He looked into Phin’s beautiful eyes, admiring the way the light of the moon enhanced her exquisite features. “I’m glad you’re with me.”
“Me too.” She hugged him, then stood on her toes and kissed him fully. They embraced for a long time before Phin pulled away.
“Come on,” she said, “let’s get inside. You start a fire, and I’ll get some stew going.”
Braxton unlatched the gate, and let her in after the excited Bear. He looked back at their village for a moment before stepping off the street and into their little yard. Home at last.
* * *
The old man with the straw hat walked around Oak Haven slowly, stopping here and there to look in on its residents. Having long since dismissed the hay wagon and having thanked the big stallion for his service, he meandered through the little streets unseen by most of its inhabitants. A few noticed his passing, smiling kindly in acknowledgment, some even going so far as to offer him a drink or dinner to ward off the night. Pleased by their politeness, he thanked them but continued on his way.
He liked what he saw in the homes of those where he stopped to look in, stretching out his energy to feel the presence of their occupants, reading the lives they’d chosen. Most were of good heart, strong in mind, and faithful to their families and community. A few he nudged, helping them back on path, redirecting their wanderings or lost direction. Some he cured of ailments—those who’d learned from their experiences and could benefit now from the healing sleep he could provide. Most were given a few extra coins, the old man bending his will to manifest the Andorah tender in a purse here or a pocket there. The economy of Oak Haven had suffered much since the closing of their Gate, and he knew their residents could use a little extra help.
He stopped at their Walking Gate and stepped up onto the platform, unnoticed by the two guards standing only a few feet away, and reached out with his mind to feel the power within the portal. Summoning the spirit magic, he reenergized it, cleansing it of the taint from the Mins and the Dark Child. He thought of how the people used the Gates to move about in their little world, still unknowing of their true nature and real potential. Perhaps in time they’d come to realize it.
At last, he came to the Prinn cottage and went into their backyard, passing through the fence without bothering to open the crude gate arrangement. For a long time, he sat on a stump, looking into the home where Braxton and Phinlera lay by the fire. He listened to them talking over all they’d experienced since leaving Oak Haven, pleased with their success. Reaching down, he patted Bear, the elkhound having strolled out of the house to see him. He took a moment to stretch his mind and look at how things might have changed if Penton had been the one to go. He saw where the older brother’s choices might have varied, how events would have unfolded differently, and wondered if the final outcome would’ve been the same.
He focused on the path ahead for this young couple and the direction their new life would take together, all the stronger for their joining. He stopped in places to add refinements, introducing events that would give them opportunities to make choices, to redirect their focus, to test their resolve. He knew what lay ahead and needed their commitment and strength to see things through to the unknown but specific end. The old man looked at those who would join them on their path and set in motion their coming together to help achieve the overall goal. If the shadow of negativity prevailed, it would set back much of what he’d worked for, what he and his brethren had achieved. He knew he couldn’t force the path they desired, for that forcing would be worse than the alternative they all hoped to avoid.
Content at last that he’d done what he could, he checked the young couple again, healing their wounds and giving them much-needed rest. Touching the sword with his mind, he infused the spirit magic deep within its familiar form, assuring himself it was adequately prepared. When he was sure everything was as he’d intended, he took a deep breath, smelled the warm evening air and the sweetness that floated in from some distant orchard, wondering why he’d stayed away for so long. After a few moments of savoring the beautiful night, in which time seemed to have slowed, Cathadeus looked back at the house one final time. Then he focused his mind, changed into his favorite form of the white unicorn Serene, and stepped back into the spirit world.
Book Two
The story continues in Sotchek,
Book Two of The Walking Gates.
Phonetic Pronunciation Guide
Amalasia—am-a-lay-she-ah
Andorah—an-door-ah
Baehrin—bay-rin
Belladora—bell-ah-door-ah
Bellnella—bell-nell-ah
Bendarren—ben-daren
Bendwhalie—ben-dwahl-ee
Braxton—brax-tin
Calindurin—kal-en-dur-rin
Callorin—kal-o-rin
Caryle—car-isle
Cassandra—ka-san-dra
Cathadeus—kath-a-day-iss
Dahgmor—dag-mor
Dûrak-Thûhn—do-rack-thuhn
Dynekee—die-nee-key
Eilandoran—ell-en-door-rin
Elestera—el-es-tare-ah
Elhunarie—el-who-nar-ree
Falderon—fal-dah-ron
Gaelen—gay-lin
Gavin—gav-in
Iban—eye-bin
Illian—ill-ee-in
Janson—jan-sin
Jenleah—jen-lay-ah
Jenlyrindien—jen-lah-rin-dee-in
Jenphinlin—jen-fin-lin
Jenterra—jen-tare-ah
Kalendra—ka-len-dra
Karas—ka-rus
Kudu—koo-do
Laefin—lay-ah-fin
Leylandon—lay-lan-din
Malicine—mal-a-scene
Morgaroth—mor-ga-roth
Neah—nay-ah
Penton—pen-tin
Phinlera—fin-lair-ah
Ragi—ra-jee
Ruskin—rus-kin
Shelindûhin—shell-en-doo-in
Sotchek—so-check
Tayloren—tay-lore-en
Tentalis—ten-tell-es
Thadeus—thad-ee-us
Tharak—thar-ak
Tyrrideon—tie-rid-ee-in
Zacharias—zak-ah-rye-es
About the Author
JEFF J. PETERS was born in South Africa and immigrated to the United States as a teenager, where he fell in love with all things fantasy. He obtained degrees in digital electronics and computer science and worked as an IT professional for more than twenty years. In 2014, he left his corporate position to focus full-time on writing. Cathadeus is his debut novel. He is currently working on the sequel. Learn more, connect with the author, and follow his blog at www.jeffjpeters.com