by Terry Brooks
She cringed at her own thoughts, but at the same time could not shake the certainty that she was not ready for this. She was still a young girl with her whole life ahead of her. She had entered into the Chosen order with the expectation of serving a single year. It was a much-sought-after honor, and she had embraced it readily enough. But never with the expectation that more would be required of her than was required of anyone else.
“Are you all right?” Cymrian asked her at one point. “It’s cold out here. Would you like a blanket?”
She was wrapped in her travel cloak, but even so she was shivering. “I would,” she admitted.
He left her side to retrieve one and was quickly back again, placing it about her shoulders then sitting close with his arm around her to help keep her warm. She leaned into him, grateful for his reassuring presence. She wished Aphen would return. She felt so much better when her sister was close.
“You must not think much of me right now,” she said.
“Because you don’t want to be a martyr for our people? Because you don’t want to transform into the Ellcrys?” He shook his head. “I don’t know anyone who would want that. I certainly wouldn’t.”
“But I have been asked, and there is so much at stake. What if there is no one else who can do this? Or no one who will?”
“We don’t know enough yet to be certain of anything. Give Aphen a chance to see what she can discover.”
She lowered her face against his shoulder. “I’m just so scared.”
The hours slipped away, and for a time she dozed. She felt Cymrian holding her, never moving. Each time she drifted awake he was there, keeping her warm and safe, protecting her as he had promised he would. One day, she thought drowsily, she would find someone like Cymrian to love.
It was still dark when she heard voices whispering and sensed movement on the deck of the Wend-A-Way. She opened her eyes to find Aphen smiling down at her with Woostra looking on.
“Time to go,” Aphen told her.
They sat together while Cymrian went off to release the mooring lines and take the airship back to Arborlon. Woostra retired to the aft deck to give them some privacy.
“The Federation has left Paranor,” Aphen told her. “Not one soldier remains. I don’t understand it. They wanted it so badly. Hundreds died to take it. But now only the dead remain. Something unexpected has happened, I think.”
“The magic frightened them away?” Arling was fully awake now, anxious to hear what her sister had learned.
Aphen shook her head. “But they would have left guards, wouldn’t they? Even if they remained outside and didn’t try to go back in, they would have wanted to keep watch to see what happened.”
“I don’t know, Aphen.”
Her sister smiled. “Did you get some rest while I was away?”
“Not much. What did you find out?” Arling could keep still about it no longer. “Was there anything about the Ellcrys in the Druid Histories?”
“A little. Most of it had to do with where the Bloodfire could be found. There wasn’t much on the transformation or how the choosing is made.” She leaned forward quickly and put her hand on Arling’s shoulder. “But we’re not finished. This matter isn’t settled yet.”
Arling shook her head, discouraged. “Where else is there to look? What else can anyone do?”
Aphen hesitated. “I don’t know. I only know that we are not giving up.” She took her hand away and rocked back. “I need to find Khyber Elessedil and the others and ask them. I need to bring them back to Arborlon—both because of this and because of what’s happened at Paranor. They need to give up this search for the Elfstones and reclaim the Druid’s Keep. And they have to help you. I will insist on it.”
She tightened her lips and exhaled sharply. “While I’m gone, I want you to go back to the Ellcrys and speak to her again. I want you to tell her how you feel. She needs to know you are not ready for this. You have to tell her you want to seek a place in the Druid order. It may help if she understands how strongly you feel about this.”
“I fled from her,” Arling answered. “She already knows.”
“She knows you are frightened, but she doesn’t necessarily know the rest of it. Besides, you don’t want to leave things like this. You have been a good and faithful servant to her; she will expect you to come back and explain yourself. You owe her that much, Arling. You owe yourself. Go speak with her again.”
Arling didn’t want to do any such thing. She was afraid of going back to the Ellcrys. It was a nameless, pervasive fear that originated in her mix of shame and disgust at having fled. But she knew it was the right thing to do, and she would not disappoint her sister. Aphen expected her to be strong enough to confront the Ellcrys and try to convince it to choose another. If she did not, Arling would live out the rest of her life knowing she was a coward.
“I will,” she said to Aphen.
Then she hugged her sister and tried not to think of what a second encounter might mean.
A day later, Arling joined Woostra on the Elven airfield to bid farewell to her sister and Cymrian. Wend-A-Way had been resupplied, and the journey to find the Ard Rhys and the Druids was about to begin. The sisters hugged and kissed, facing each other with smiles and tears in the early-morning light.
“Look after yourself, Arling,” her sister told her. “Do what you need to do. Be strong.”
Arling nodded. “I can be strong as long as I know you are there for me.”
Aphenglow looked stricken. “Oh, Arling. I will always be there for you. You know you can depend on that. We will be there for each other.” She paused and wiped away her tears. “Will you speak to the tree today?”
Arling hesitated, wanting more time and space to consider. But she knew that she was only putting off the inevitable, and there was nothing to be gained by doing so.
“Tonight. When the other Chosen are asleep,” she promised. “I will try then.”
“It won’t be so bad. She’s an old friend to you, a companion. She’s asking for your help. If you can’t give it, she will understand.”
“I know,” Arling said, but she did not know anything of the sort. “Please come back soon.”
Aphen’s strong features tightened. “As quickly as I can. But you need to remember something while I am gone. Someone in the Elven community is hunting me and now, perhaps, you. I want you to be especially careful. Cymrian thinks you are safe enough for the moment, but I am not so sure. I thought I was safe, too. So stay alert. Do your work as a Chosen and keep to yourself. If you have a problem, go to Uncle Ellich or Grandfather and ask for help. Do not take chances. Promise me.”
Arling nodded, beginning to cry anew. She embraced her sister and held her close for a long time before releasing her. “Good-bye, Aphen. Please be safe.”
She stood then with Woostra and watched as her sister and Cymrian boarded Wend-A-Way, released the mooring lines, and lifted off into the brightening morning. Wend-A-Way swung about until she was facing west and slowly picked up speed.
Arling stood watching until she was out of sight and the sky was empty once more.
Woostra cleared his throat. “If there is something I can do to help you while she’s gone, you have only to ask me.”
Arling nodded, not looking at him. “Thank you.”
“She didn’t say what is happening, but it is clearly important to her. I don’t need to know what that something is. I’m not asking you to confide in me. But Aphen is dear to me, and I will do what she expects of me in her absence.”
It was a strangely formal proclamation, and Arling almost smiled in spite of herself. “I will see to it when she returns that she knows you offered. And I will come to you if it is needed. I appreciate your offer, Woostra.”
He shrugged. “I’m just doing what I know Aphen would want.” He hesitated. “I saw how you were when the Keep was attacked and we were struggling to hold the Federation back. You were as brave as anyone. I respect you for that. You are much the same
person as your sister.”
Maybe not, Arling thought. Not so brave, not so certain about herself, not so confident in who she was. Not like Aphen. She had never compared herself favorably to her sister, always aware that Aphen was older and had accomplished so much more in her life, even in the face of criticism and disapproval. Even though she was alienated from their mother and much of the Elven community. Arling could never have done that. She wasn’t brave enough.
She gave Woostra a quick smile. “I have to go now.”
She was aware of the old man’s gaze as she walked away, though she did not look back.
The remainder of the day was spent working in service to the Ellcrys. She returned to the Gardens of Life and was warmly greeted by the other Chosen. Before flying off to Paranor, she had explained her absence by leaving word with Freershan that she had been taken with a fever and stomach sickness that would put her in bed for a few days. When one of them asked why she didn’t answer her door when they had come to check on her, she covered by saying she had gone to stay with her mother. No one questioned her further. She was given hugs and kind words and welcomed back. It made her feel like a liar and a cheat; it made her feel ashamed of herself. But she got past it as quickly as she could and spent the remainder of the day absorbed in her tasks, keeping her head down and her thoughts to herself.
When her work was finished, she went to see her mother. It was not something she particularly wanted to do, but she craved the reassurance that being in her mother’s house—the house she grew up in with Aphen—would provide. But on this day Afrengill was dark-tempered and distant, moving like a ghost through the cottage while Arling sat watching, saying almost nothing to her daughter, so far gone inside herself that she almost wasn’t there. Arling tried speaking with her, hoping for just a few words in response that would make her feel as if she belonged here. But her mother couldn’t give her those words, and after a short while she left feeling none the better for having come.
She ate dinner alone, listening to the silence of the cottage and thinking of her sister. She glanced out the window repeatedly, watching as the light dimmed and the darkness settled in, knowing what was coming, what she must do. She tried more than once to rationalize her way out of going to the Ellcrys. What harm could it do to wait another day? Or even two? But she knew better than to give in to such arguments. Waiting would only make it harder and confirm that she was as much a coward as she feared. She could not afford to feel any less secure and capable than she already did. As frightened as she was of doing this, she was even more frightened at the prospect of what it would mean if she gave in to her fears. She might not want to do this, but doing nothing would be even worse.
So when it was suitably dark and most of the city’s inhabitants were in bed or on their way there, she wrapped herself in her travel cloak to ward off the chill and headed toward the gardens. She walked quickly, afraid that any delay or diversion would be enough to tip the scales and send her back to the refuge of her home. It took only minutes before she found herself standing on a slight rise at the eastern edge of the gardens, looking down to where the Ellcrys glimmered crimson and silver in the pale moonlight. She hesitated then, trying to think what she would say, to gather her thoughts so she could make the best argument for asking that another be sent in her place. Even the thought of trying to do so made her queasy, her stomach churning at the idea of seeking to be relieved of a responsibility she already knew was hers.
Though it wasn’t one she had asked for.
Taking a deep breath, she crept into the gardens and up to the tree. She stood beneath its canopy and stared, momentarily entranced by its perfect beauty. She waited for the tree to respond, blinking against the brilliant wash of starlight that spilled out of the night sky and streamed through the silver and crimson limbs.
Finally, she knelt, bowing her head in open acknowledgment of her position as a servant to the order of the Chosen. She closed her eyes and waited patiently, hardly daring to breathe, listening to the beating of her heart.
Then a slender branch brushed her shoulder, and the familiar voice whispered inside her head.
–You are returned to me, child–
Arling shuddered. “I am returned.”
–You are so frightened–
“Terrified.”
–Your fear caused you to flee from me–
“I am ashamed of this.”
–You need not be. Your fear is real and justified. I was once as you are. Frightened and confused. I, too, fled–
Arling opened her eyes and looked at the tree. “You fled when you were told what was expected of you?”
–Even before I understood. I was a young girl, like you. I barely remember it now. The tree spoke to me. She touched me. I grew frightened of what that meant, and I fled–
“But you came back?”
–Why are you so frightened, child? There is no pain in what I ask of you. There is so much good that you can do–
The voice was calm and measured. It filled Arling with a sense of peace that she found oddly reassuring. She shivered at the feelings it roused in her.
“I am not meant to do this. I am meant to be a Druid, like my sister. It was what I planned all along to do when my time as a Chosen was finished.”
–You would be a Druid so you could help others. Like your sister–
“I would. I would do that instead.”
–Even though you would be helping so many more by doing what I have asked? Even though you would be saving a world–
Arling hesitated, not knowing what to say. “Someone else would be a better choice.”
–You say this to me, knowing I am the one who makes all the choices? Knowing I chose you because there was reason for doing so–
Arling squeezed her eyes closed. “Was I made a Chosen because you knew you were dying and needed another of the Elessedil line to replace you? Is that why I was chosen?”
A long silence followed.
–I choose all of my children instinctively, with no prior knowledge of who or what you are. I know nothing of your histories. Not then and not now. In the beginning, I do not even know your names. When you, child, passed beneath me in the time of your choosing, you felt right to me and so I took you–
“I shouldn’t have agreed.”
–But you did agree. You accepted your choosing. Would you abandon it now–
“I must. I cannot do this.”
–Because you think it will be too hard–
“Because it isn’t something I thought I would ever have to do.”
–You would do only those things for which you were already prepared? You would accept only hardships you already understand? Will it be like that for you if you become a Druid–
Arling burst into tears, burying her face in her hands, momentarily unable to continue.
“I don’t know what else to say.”
The Ellcrys went silent again, and Arling fought to stop crying, wiping away the tears, telling herself to be strong, to stand her ground. She couldn’t be forced to do this. She couldn’t be made to take the Ellcrys seed and carry it to the Bloodfire. She didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.
–What if there is no other to take your place–
The words broke the silence like the shattering of glass, and Arling flinched in response.
–What if you are the only one who can do this–
Arling exhaled sharply. Her oval face lifted and she tightened her lips in defiance. “But I’m not the only one. There are others. Lots of others. You choose us for this. You know which of us will be able to serve you in the ways you have need of being served. You can always find another to do what is needed.”
–You sound so certain of this. I was like you once. I believed this, too. There would be others to do what I was being asked and did not want to do. How difficult would it be to find one–
Arling brightened. “Then you understand what I am saying. I think another Chosen would be more r
eady than I am to take the seed to the Bloodfire. To become the next Ellcrys. More ready and capable than I am to do what is needed.”
–More ready and capable? A sweeping conclusion, child. Think a moment. Whoever does what I ask must be strong enough to survive a journey to a distant place, one filled with dangers. This Chosen may be hunted, just as I was hunted. This Chosen must have family and friends willing to die for her. This Chosen must be able to withstand both physical and emotional hardships and be willing to sacrifice herself for the good of her people–
Arling felt her momentary elation fade.
–This Chosen will need courage and resilience and strength of will that exceed those of others. The journey to find the Bloodfire and immerse my seed is a terrible trial. The journey back and its inevitable ending would be no less so. When an Ellcrys chooses a successor, all this must be taken into account. All these qualities must be considered when searching for the one who will become what I became–
“But I am not …”
–Hush, child, hush. Let me finish what I would say to you–
Arling flushed at the rebuke and went silent.
–My decision to choose you as the bearer of my seed was not arrived at in days or months or even years. It took a long time to find you. Generations of Chosen came and went. Death comes gradually if not hastened by chance or misfortune, and so it has been to me. I have seen its approach for a long time and only of late have felt its touch. The Forbidding I ward has been eroding incrementally. At first, it did not matter; the erosion was slight. But with the passage of time, the danger has grown more immediate. My search, therefore, needs resolving–
–So when I ask you what I should do if I cannot find another, it is not because another does not exist. It is because I lack the time I need to find that other. My predecessor faced this same dilemma when she chose me. The erosion of the Forbidding accelerates. The risk of the imprisoned breaking free from their world and invading this one is upon us–
The Ellcrys fell silent again, but Arling could not find the words to respond. She felt trapped and overmatched by this ancient creature, and she lacked the means to do anything about it. She slumped back on her heels and kept her head lowered against the fear that would undo her completely.
