by J C Maynard
Thousands of silver specks sparkled in the night sky and began to blur through his tears. Tracing their path for what he knew would be the last time, his mind became once again alert when he realized that an enormous tree hung over him. Feeling that resurgence of strength that comes before death, he turned his body enough to look beyond, in the direction he had been walking before he fell.
A dense, misty forest extended in front of him. Next to his hand, on a patch of grass, lay a small, glowing flower. Light streamed out of its petals and into the air. Reaching forward with a shaking hand, Tayben touched a finger to its petals — it was real.
A shock of pain ran through his finger and through his arm. Slowly, the bloodstained snow turned white again as the blood coursed back into Tayben’s body. The cuts along his arms and legs sealed together, and the feeling returned to his toes. Tayben lifted his torso, and then his legs. Standing up, he stared at the flower. Tayben turned to the forest. I remember this place.
Tayben stepped forward through the seemingly magical boundary between the frigid, blizzarding mountains and mossy, autumn forest. The air instantly grew warmer, and Tayben took another step. The trees closed in behind him in the dark, and far ahead, he picked out another glowing light. Pushing aside bushes and ferns, Tayben made his way toward the light. A glowing flower grew from the forest floor ahead of him. Reaching down to touch it, it shocked him again, and another bruise disappeared on his skin. Looking up, another flower radiated white light in the distance. I know this place . . . I was healed here before . . . it was the night I left my army platoon . . .
Out of nowhere, a figure — a woman — appeared behind the next flower and walked slowly toward Tayben, who, in turn, walked forward. Tayben audibly spoke for the first time in days, directing his words toward the figure. “Who are you?”
Tayben approached the figure, who was now illuminated by the glowing flower on the ground, and he could see the woman’s face that seemed so familiar. It somehow looked both young and ancient, as if some magic had saved it from the ravages of time. “Who are you?” Tayben repeated.
The woman reached out her hand toward Tayben. In seconds, a small glowing flower grew out of her palm, snapped off and drifted to the ground, where it took root next to its brother. A burst of white light radiated from her hand and swirled up to Tayben’s head. A wave of memories crashed into his head — running through the forest after the Phantom shadows, falling from a tree, hurting, bleeding, a woman’s voice, and a forest hollow filled with light, glowing plants, magical creatures, and a swirling pool of iridescence.
Tayben jumped back, breathless. “I- . . . you saved me . . . when I fell from the canopy in the forest as a soldier, you saved me—. then you let me go . . . why didn’t I know until now?”
The woman looked saddened. “I wiped your memory.”
“Wh- why did you-”
“Come with me,” said the woman, “then you will see.”
Tayben stood in silence and nodded. The woman stepped back into the underbrush, following the same glowing flowers that guided Tayben. “But why did—?”
“We will speak when we arrive at my home,” said the woman.
Tayben obeyed and said nothing for the hours that he and the woman walked through the fog of Endlebarr, following the glowing flowers all the way.
“Here we are,” said the woman. The dark autumn forest of Endlebarr was lit with the light of the heavens; thousands of little white glowing flowers coated the forest floor. In front of them stood a barrier of light, exactly like the walls of light that were used to keep Silverbrook’s monsters in the Palace. The woman stepped seamlessly through the barrier of light, creating an opening for Tayben, and Tayben followed.
As soon as he crossed the barrier, another cascade of memories flooded his head. Tayben gazed around him in wonder, remembering the glowing butterflies, the lake of iridescent light that sat in a circle surrounding a massive tree with windows and a door — the woman’s home. All around, giant glowing toadstools the size of beds were scattered about, and every step he took sent little faint pulse of white light out of the grass. Behind him, a trail of glowing footsteps faded. Breathless, Tayben tried to say something . . . anything . . . but could only take in the beauty of this forgotten sanctuary in Endlebarr. He turned to the woman, who smiled back at him.
Out of nowhere, a giant creature with wings and a thundering roar pounced out of the forest, causing Tayben to yell in surprise and fall back onto a bed of glowing white flowers. The woman laughed and Tayben stood up to see a magnificent winged lion standing in front of him. Covered in pure white fur, the lion’s mane flowed back to its massive wings. The lion purred a low and frightening sound and walked up to the woman, who wrapped her arms around its thick white mane in a hug. The woman laughed again and looked to Tayben. “Sorry for frightening you. Fernox hasn’t seen you for quite some time now . . . of course he didn’t interact with you much when you were last here.”
Tayben walked cautiously toward the winged lion. “Fernox, you said? The name sounds familiar.”
“It should.” The woman smiled and looked to her house built in the trunk of the great tree that sat on an island in the lake of light. “I doubt you have eaten in some time, Tayben. How about a meal? We have many things to discuss.”
Tayben nodded. “I knew your name before . . . when I was here months ago.”
The woman ran her fingers through the lion’s fur. “My name is Abitha Silverbrook.”
Tayben followed Miss Silverbrook through the doorway into the house, which was merely a doorway into the enormous tree. All around the house sat a swirling lake of light, which they crossed as they had before, on the back of a black turtle-like creature. The lake shimmered with iridescent glowing streams of starry orbs. The heavens sparkled within the waters of the pond and glow brighter than in the sky.
After crossing the lake of light, Tayben stepped onto the center island and into the tree and closed the curved door behind him. The interior of the tree was hollowed out, and all the tables and shelves and stairs grew out of the tree itself. The windows were glassless, shaped with the knots in the trunk of the tree. Miss Silverbrook smiled. “I grew this tree myself.” she explained. “Shaped the inside of it like a house so I could live here.”
Tayben looked around and marveled at the sight. “I have so many questions to ask you.” he said. “Miss Silverbrook . . . you’re a sorceress . . . you worked for King Tronum long ago . . . you- you created monsters and-”
“Slow down, my boy.” said Miss Silverbrook in a soothing voice. “I will explain everything . . . let me first get the fire started so we can cook the soup.”
Tayben waited in frustration for her to begin cooking the meal. He watched her take out two wooden bowls and place them in a fireplace that somehow had no vent. “Is fire in a tree a smart idea?”
A giant white flame sprung out of Miss Silverbrook’s hands and covered the bowls, making the soup simmer. Miss Silverbrook smiled, “I’ve been cooking for quite a while, sweetheart.” Miss Silverbrook walked over to Tayben. “Sit down, sit down; you’ve had a long journey I can tell. Do you remember it all now? Being here before.”
“Yes. And I remember now the things you had taken from my memory.”
Miss Silverbrook sat down at the table with him. “Yes, I’m sorry about that.”
“Wh- why did you- I don’t understand.”
Miss Silverbrook closed her eyes and whispered, “Patience.”
Tayben crossed his arms and sat back. “Forgive me ma’am.”
Miss Silverbrook smiled. “If I do not start from the beginning, you’ll have more questions than you came here with.”
Tayben nodded and looked at the white fire cooking the soup in the fireplace. “I have nowhere to be anymore.”
“Fair enough. But be certain that we will hear your story after mine . . . why you are here and not still fighting for the Phantoms of Cerebria.”
Tayben agreed. “The beginning?” he ask
ed her.
Silverbrook nodded. “The beginning.” Silverbrook closed her eyes and gazed far into her memories of a far away place. “I was sixteen when I met the father of my children. I was working as a palace servant in Aunestana with my mother and saw a boy my age in an alley on the brink of starvation and freezing to death. I took him to the Palace where he stayed with me . . .” Her voice trailed off, and Tayben could tell that a thousand memories coursed through her mind. “He and I fell in love . . . we both were capable of using sorcery but kept our powers hidden to any outsiders.” A little white flame danced around her fingers. She reminded him of someone. “The night Cerebria seceded from the Gallegorean Empire, Queen Xandria sent assassins — the first Phantoms — to kill King Tronum. They would have succeeded if not for Fernox.” She and Tayben looked out the window at the winged lion sitting in flowers on the edge of the pool of light.
Tayben looked back at her. “Fernox was King Gallegore’s lion.”
Silverbrook smiled. “Your grandfather’s lion, in a sense.”
Tayben had forgotten that Silverbrook was the only one who knew about his four different lives. She had learned his secret the first time he came to her sanctuary in the forest. “How did you end up with Fernox?”
“I’ll get there.” Silverbrook stood up, quelled the white fire that was cooking the soup and brought it over to Tayben. He thanked her and dug in ravenously, incredibly grateful for his first decent meal in days. She continued, “Fernox drove the Phantoms away, but they thought that they had been successful in killing Tronum. During their attack, I was walking in a nearby hallway. I heard Tronum scream and Fernox roar and I sprinted there to find the King in a pool of blood. I decided it was more important to save the King than to continue concealing that I was a sorceress, so I healed his stab wounds . . . it was the greatest mistake of my life.” Silverbrook thought for a moment. “Tronum feared Xandria because she was smarter and more capable than him; he knew she could destroy him once she had all of Cerebria on her side. But as soon as he knew that I had could harness the power of sorcery . . .” She thought for a moment again.
“He hired you then?” said Tayben. “He wanted to increase his military strength, so he had you create . . .” Tayben’s voice trailed off as he pictured her monsters — a fire giant, a sentient tree, an icedragon.
“Well, ‘hired’ is not the term I would use.” Silverbrook shook her head. “I couldn’t say no to him . . . he was the King. So I did it.”
“You had all that power and just served King Tronum?”
Silverbrook shook her head. “I tried to find ways to extend my influence outside the Palace. All the while I was working for King Tronum, I sent letters to the goblins in Cerebria. I knew Xandria was about to wipe them out — the goblins had written to me for a while about the increasing tension between them and that they were planning to build up their army to counter Xandria. I wanted to help prepare them by telling them what I figured out how to do — how to create the things I created.” She gestured around the house. “But they couldn’t do it in time, and then Xandria wiped them out . . . I know it wasn’t my fault, that it was Xandria’s, but I know I could’ve done more . . . I could’ve told them how to manipulate life.”
Tayben thought for a moment. “But in the wrong hands, that power is dangerous. You were right to keep it hidden.” A candle flicked on in Tayben’s brain. “The flowers. All of this. Your sanctuary . . . How did you create it all?”
“I let the Tenebris flow freely. The Tenebris is how everything is interconnected, how life and death intertwine, how you exist . . . I mean, how we all exist, really.” The house was silent, and beams of shimmering light from the lake outside filtered in through the windows. “But that conversation is for another time.”
“So what happened to the monsters?”
Silverbrook took a sip of her soup. “Well, you should know that as I was helping Tronum, I had two children. One is actually just about your age. I knew I couldn’t go on doing work for Tronum, so I sealed the monsters up and hid another one of my creations — one that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. I planned to flee Aunestauna with the father of my children to Seirnkov . . .”
Tayben leaned forward. “But you didn’t go with him?”
Silverbrook closed her eyes. “Something got in the way . . . something I had to do . . .” Her voice trailed off again, but this time she looked at Tayben with a troubled look.
Tayben couldn’t help but feel as if she was upset with him or that she regretted something. He wanted to ask her more, but feared pushing too far.
Silverbrook continued. “I took Fernox and flew to Endlebarr on his back . . . he no longer wanted to be in the Palace either, so we made a good team. I’ve been here ever since.”
“Why didn’t you ever go to Seirnkov to live with your family?”
Silverbrook sat up out of her chair to warm up her soup again in white fire. “I’ve told my story and now it’s time for yours. The first time I saw you, I learned what had happened to you before from searching your memories; but I can only guess what brought you back here now . . . I could read into your thoughts but I acknowledge that’s no longer polite.”
Tayben thought back to the moment Silverbrook stole his memories. He recalled aloud the events that followed being there at her sanctuary as he remembered them. He told her about wandering through the forest until the Phantoms found him. He told her about Gallien, and the Phantoms taking him to the nymphs. With a tear in his eye, he remembered the pure light of the nymphs transforming him into a Phantom. He recalled the strength and speed he had and the battles he had fought side by side with the soldiers of shadow. He explained how every day, he grew more and more separated from the Phantoms until he no longer believed in Xandria’s cause.
“As my loyalty to them and Cerebria faded,” he said, “so did my power. We fought the Ferramish at Camp Stoneheart. I was fighting with Gallien and I fell behind. I ended up fighting myself . . . as Prince Eston. I nearly killed myself before one of your beasts came to my aid. I looked in its eyes and it transported me into a void, where the only thing I could see was your glowing white flowers, the flowers I had remembered the whole time but had not known their origin. I knew I had to go and so I ran, following a glimpse of what your beast showed me. I traveled through Endlebarr and across the Taurbeir-Krons until I reached the treeline and the flowers, which is where you found me.”
Silverbrook leaned back in her chair, taking all of Tayben’s story in. “You are quite a remarkable person, Tayben.”
“Why did you take me in the first time and save my life? But more importantly, why did you let me go back out into Endlebarr to be taken by the Phantoms?”
“Because that’s what you wanted then. I knew eventually you would find what was in your heart — what Eston, Kyan, and Calleneck needed to teach you, as I am sure you have taught them.”
Tayben sat silently for a while, listening to the sound of frogs and birds outside in the night, which was beginning to turn back into day. “Where do I go from here? My family in Woodshore was told I was dead as soon as I joined the Phantoms. I don’t have anywhere to go; I don’t know what to fight for; I-” Tayben swallowed back his tears.
Silverbrook closed her eyes. “Sleep on it . . . there is a room up the staircase you can use. You haven’t truly rested for months. Plus, we still have much more we need to talk about. Go and wash in the stream just outside of the grove. I’ll make sure you get across the lake safely. I’ll have clean clothes for you as well.”
Tayben reluctantly accepted the offer and, after bathing in the stream outside the grove, changed and climbed up the staircase which sat in the center of the hollowed out, but still living, tree. Finding his bed, he took off his shoes and collapsed on top of the covers of a real bed for the first time since he was home in Woodshore.
The Library Under Roshk
Chapter Thirty Five
~Sometime, February 9th
Borius Shipton followe
d Calleneck around another turn in the cold, stalactite-filled tunnels of the netw-ork. The goblin capital of Rjarnsk lay only a few more miles ahead, directly underneath the Cerebrian city of Roshk. In its library, Borius hoped to find the letters written from Silverbrook to the goblins detailing her discoveries in magic — specifically if the stone she made for Tronum worked — the stone that would enable a sorcerer to perform one spell with truly unbelievable power. Calleneck and Borius had traveled for two days through the dark tunnels of the Network. Calleneck didn’t know why he needed to lead Borius to the abandoned and destroyed goblin capital, but he trudged along in the dark with his maps of the subterranean web of goblin tunnels.
Calleneck stopped and sat down on an outcropping of rock on the side of the tunnel and took out a map. Borius held a little ball of yellow light — his Taurimous — above Calleneck so he could read it because the light of bioluminescent worms on the walls wasn’t adequate. Calleneck studied his map awhile and traced his finger along it. Borius increased the brightness of the light to see the map better. “Are we on track?”
“Mostly.” said Calleneck. “I accidentally took us down here, but we’ll get back on this tunnel right here in about a half mile.” Calleneck moved his finger along the map. “And then once we reach here, the tunnel could be filled with water. But right after that, we should be to the ruins of the city.”
“Why would it be filled with water?” said Borius lifting a heavy eyebrow that Calleneck could just make out on his dark chestnut skin.
“There’s an underground river that runs across the path right next to the city, but if water passageway crumbled in the Goblin War, it would dam up the river and fill the cavern with water.”
