Bloodfire Quest

by Terry Brooks

  Mirai gave her a quick glance. “Seersha’s angry, but she’ll get past it. You didn’t do anything wrong. She’s worried about the Ard Rhys, and she thinks it might already be too late to bring her back.”

  “She might be right. She’s certainly right about what happened being my fault. If not for me, there would have been no expedition, and everyone who went on it and died would still be alive.”

  “You didn’t decide there would be an expedition.” Arling was suddenly hugging her. “You only suggested it might be worth doing. Everyone else agreed and the Ard Rhys made the decision. Seersha is wrong to blame you.”

  Mirai was on her feet. “Arling is right. I’m going after her and ask what she intends to do. If she’s going back into the Forbidding to look for Redden, Railing and I will both be going with her.”

  She left quickly, leaving the sisters clasped in a tight embrace of shared sorrow in the sudden silence of their home.

  Railing Ohmsford was up early that same morning, too troubled to sleep and still bitter and angry that he had been forced to leave his brother behind. He understood there had been no real choice in the matter, that if what was left of their little group hadn’t boarded Wend-A-Way and sailed off with Aphenglow and Cymrian, they would have been overrun by the Goblins and killed. He understood, as well, that there was no way back into the Forbidding, and no real chance of rescuing his brother even if there had been. He knew all this, but knowing it and accepting it were two entirely different things.

  So he had let the others convince him—Seersha, in particular, because she wanted to save Khyber Elessedil every bit as much as he wanted to save Redden—that the only reasonable chance they had was to return to Arborlon, regroup, and come back again better prepared. But the sense of betrayal he felt was acute and deep, and none of the arguments he was able to muster could tamp it down.

  Now, awake again before dawn and at loose ends, all he could think about was hopping aboard an airship and flying back into the Fangs.

  In the hope of distracting himself, he hobbled out to the pathway fronting the residence he was sharing with Crace Coram, Skint, and Woostra. The effort it required to get there was laborious and painful, and served mostly to demonstrate how far he still had to go before would be fit enough to help anyone. Seersha had set the bones and then splinted the leg during the return trip, repairing the damage well enough that it would heal perfectly in six weeks or so. But making the short journey to the end of the walkway only served to remind him that six weeks could be a long time.

  Growing quickly frustrated, he settled himself on one of a pair of benches placed at the edge of the grounds so he could rest and think.

  Going back to Patch Run and his mother was out of the question. He would rather face the Goblins on one leg than have to tell her what had happened to Redden. He could return to Bakrabru and Farshaun Req and see if the old Rover couldn’t arrange transportation back to the Breakline or perhaps find someone who knew the wilderness well enough to do the job the Speakman had been recruited to do. But Farshaun would want him healed first, and it seemed unlikely anyone there could do more to hasten that process than the Elves, unless he chose to travel east to the Gnome Healers at Storlock.

  He sat for a time in the shade of a chestnut tree, stewing about his situation, waiting for the steady aching in his leg to lessen, trying very hard not to think about what might be happening to his brother inside the Forbidding while he was sitting around inactive and useless.

  Skint appeared and said a few words to him, and a little later Crace Coram. The latter told him not to despair, that Seersha would already be making plans to go back and that both he and the boy would accompany her when she did. His reassurance helped ease Railing’s distress, and finally he went back inside and washed himself and dressed in fresh clothes, having realized he was still wearing his clothing from the day before.

  The morning passed while all four of them sat around waiting for something to happen. Eventually Aphenglow would appear with news of the Elven response to her report. What was to be done about the Goblins breaking free of their prison, though, was not something she had chosen to discuss with them, although Railing was pretty sure she would have talked it over with Seersha. Whatever the case, action would have to be taken, and it would have to be taken soon.

  The boy was also anxious to see Mirai, who was as concerned about Redden as he was, and to whom he could best open up about his desperate need to do something to help his brother. But midday came and went, and Mirai did not appear, either.

  He was back on his bench in the early afternoon when Seersha trudged up the pathway looking less than happy. She came over and plopped down beside him. “Sleep well?”

  “Poorly,” he snapped. “Is there news?”

  She shrugged. “Aphenglow and Arling went to their grandfather to advise him of things and to talk about what could be done for the Ellcrys. I think they made a plan for it.”

  “You don’t look too happy about that.”

  She stretched out her arms and dropped them listlessly at her sides, frowning. “Aphen and I had an argument. I lost my temper. I don’t usually do that, and I wish I hadn’t this time. Aphen is my friend. But this whole business has gotten completely out of hand, and no one really knows what to do about it.”

  “I know what to do,” he said darkly.

  She nodded. “Go back into the Fangs and save your brother. But it won’t be that easy. It might not even be possible.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “I have to say it. I have to convince myself. You and I want the same thing—to go into the Forbidding, find the Ard Rhys and your brother, and bring them out again. Simple enough. But there are larger concerns. If the Ellcrys fails and the creatures imprisoned there break free, they will overrun the Four Lands. It isn’t just the Goblins; it’s other things, much worse things. We lack the magic and the numbers to hold them back. And without the Ellcrys, we have no way to lock them up again.”

  “I’ll worry about that later, after I’ve gotten Redden back,” he insisted stubbornly.

  “Except there won’t be a ‘later’ if we don’t address the collapse of the Forbidding first. I don’t like it any better than you do, but I accept the fact of it and that’s why I am not very happy just now.”

  They were silent for a moment, mulling this over. “What are you going to do?” the boy asked her finally.

  “I don’t know. That’s what the argument was about. Do I go back into the Fangs and find the Ard Rhys, or do I stick around here and help the Elves fight off the demonkind that are breaking free? Aphen will go off with her sister to find something called the Bloodfire so the Ellcrys can be saved. She wants me to stay here and do what I can for her people. It’s a difficult choice. I’m still thinking about it.”

  She looked at him, her fierce face tight and hard. “I can tell you one thing, Railing Ohmsford. You are not going anywhere until that leg heals. And that will take weeks unless you do what I tell you.”

  He stared at her, not at all sure where this was going. “What do you mean?”

  “Mirai has a level head on her shoulders. She will likely exercise better judgment than you when it comes to helping your brother. So I want you to promise me you will listen to her and do what she says when it’s time to go after him. Do that, and I’ll see to it that you’re healed. Today.”

  He straightened up at once. “You can do that?”

  “I can and I will. Do I have your promise?”

  He nodded quickly. “You do.”

  “Don’t give it lightly and don’t think you can go back on your word and not pay a price for doing so. Mirai is loyal and will stick with you on this, but if you betray either her or myself, you will live to regret it. By giving me your word now, you are promising that no matter what happens, you will do what she tells you.”

  “I’ll keep my word,” he said. He couldn’t imagine going up against Mirai, in any case.

  She held his gaze for a long
moment. “Good enough. Come with me.”

  They retraced Seersha’s footsteps, moving at a pace that allowed Railing to keep up. They had gone only a short distance when they encountered Mirai coming toward them. Railing tried hard to hide what he was feeling just at the prospect of having her close again.

  “Where are you off to?” she asked, coming up to them. Her eyes shifted from one to the other. “Is everything all right?”

  “I doubt it,” Seersha replied. “But I’ve told Railing we might at least do something about his leg. Is Aphen still at the cottage?”

  Mirai nodded. “Is your argument with her over?”

  “Over and done. She’s my friend. I reacted badly. But that’s in the past. Want to come along?”

  The three of them continued walking, Mirai linking her arm in Railing’s to give him added support as they went. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

  She gave him a smirk. “So I can nurse you back to health, no doubt. What does Seersha have in mind for your leg?”

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t said.”

  “Are you rational today?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that during the entire trip back here, you did nothing but rant and rave about how you were going back for Redden and no one could stop you and anyone who tried would regret it. That, and a lot of other wild nonsense. I was tempted to agree when Austrum threatened to bind and gag you.”

  At the mention of the big Rover’s name, Railing felt his mood sour quickly. He remembered Austrum kissing Mirai. He remembered how she had failed to do anything about it afterward, not even warn him against trying it again.

  “He would have regretted it,” he muttered.

  She gave him a quick nudge. “Why don’t you stop trying to be so fierce? I like you better when you’re gentle.”

  “I don’t feel like being gentle.”

  “Which is something you should work on. Like Redden has.”

  He didn’t know where that came from, but he didn’t feel like pursuing it and let the matter drop.

  When they reached the Elessedil sisters’ cottage, they found Arling gone and Aphen packing clothes and making up a list of supplies for the journey. She told them she had already visited with Cymrian, who had appeared not long after Seersha left, and he was already off collecting an airship crew for their flight. She greeted Seersha effusively, and they apologized to each other immediately. Railing stood by awkwardly until the conversation turned to him.

  “Railing needs his leg repaired if he’s to be of any use either to himself or to the rest of us,” Seersha announced. “We can’t afford to wait around for it to heal normally, so I think a little magic is in order. You are the best at this sort of thing. Will you give it a try?”

  Aphenglow looked at him, and Railing at once felt the difference in their ages and maturity. She wasn’t that much older, but her confidence and poise so far surpassed his own that it made him feel like a child.

  “Is that what you want?” she asked him. “For me to use magic on your leg?”

  He nodded. “If you can heal it, yes.”

  She glanced at Seersha and then at him again. “Magic of this sort works best on others. I can heal you more easily than I could heal myself when I was injured at Paranor. Unfortunately, it won’t hurt any less.”

  They placed him on Mirai’s bed in the spare room, loosening his clothes and making him comfortable. Aphenglow cut away his pant leg all the way up above the knee of his bad leg and took off the splints and bindings. When his leg was completely revealed, she gave him something to drink and then a bitter-tasting root to chew that immediately made his mouth go numb and eventually his body and limbs as well.

  “Just be still while I do this,” she told him. “No sudden movements. There will be some pain. To help you stay still, I’ll have both Mirai and Seersha hold you. Don’t panic. It won’t take long. When it’s over, you will sleep.”

  He nodded, waiting impatiently, the first twinges of doubt starting to erode his confidence. “Just do what you have to. I’ll be fine.”

  She placed a cloth over his eyes and stroked his face. Then she placed both hands on his broken leg and began to move them lightly over the surface. She worked at this for a long time, and he could hear her murmuring softly. Once in a while her fingers probed.

  Then a slow, steady ache began to build deep inside the bones of his damaged leg, rippling through him from thigh to ankle. The medication Aphen had given him dulled it, but did not prevent it. He could feel Seersha’s and Mirai’s hands tighten on his wrists and ankles. He held himself as still as he could manage, the pain building on itself in slow waves until eventually it was all he could do to keep from screaming. He clenched his teeth and focused on an image of Mirai—the image strong and alive in his mind. The murmuring and touching continued and the pain raged on, but he forced it all away and went down inside where his heartbeat gave him a lifeline to grasp and Mirai’s voice whispered over and over, I like you better when you’re gentle.

  Then, finally, he lost consciousness and slept.

  For Arling Elessedil, it was a traumatic day on several fronts. Her visit to her grandfather and Uncle Ellich, followed by her sister’s argument with Seersha, had been troubling enough, but later she was forced to call a meeting of the Chosen to discuss the deterioration of the Ellcrys. It was becoming apparent that there were problems with the tree. The first signs of wilt and decay had begun to appear, and while the Chosen worked diligently to heal the damage, all of them suspected the same thing. The tree was failing and needed to be renewed.

  They knew as well that for a renewal to happen, one of them must be given the Ellcrys seed and sent in search of the Bloodfire.

  Once, such knowledge had been carefully hidden from virtually everyone, the myth of immortality part of the old legends of the creation of the Forbidding and the locking away of the demonkind. But that had changed during the reign of Eventine Elessedil, when the last Ellcrys had failed and the truth about her regeneration become common knowledge.

  Now there were enough who knew the truth of things that pretending the tree could never die or need replacing was pointless.

  Arling and Aphen had discussed earlier in the day how the meeting should be handled, and they had agreed that Arling should keep the fact that she had been selected to go in search of the Bloodfire to herself. Doing so would provide another of the order the opportunity to step forward and volunteer to do what she could not.

  She was still not ready to accept that she was the right choice to become the tree’s successor. She had talked with the Ellcrys nightly after Aphenglow’s departure for the Breakline, trying to convince the tree that choosing her was a mistake. But the Ellcrys had deflected her efforts, continuing quietly to insist that she was the only one who would do. Nothing Arling had said during their discussions seemed to make any difference at all.

  But now, perhaps, confronting the other Chosen with the enormity of the need facing them all might cause one among them to step forward and indicate a willingness to act as bearer of the seed.

  This turned out to be wishful thinking. The other members of her order listened patiently, but none of them offered to be the one who bore the seed to the Bloodfire. If anything, they were reluctant to believe that the need was immediate. Surely there was more time than Arling believed. Shouldn’t they examine the tree more thoroughly? Weren’t there healing skills and medicines that could be employed? Objections were raised and questions asked, and the dismay that settled over those assembled seemed to inhibit any of them from doing more than listening.

  By the time they had disbanded to go home for the night, not a single Chosen had seemed ready to accept what she had told them.

  They were not so different, she realized afterward, from herself. She had been no more willing to believe when the tree had revealed its condition. She had been no better prepared for it, no more anxious to act on the tree’s behalf, no more eager to wish for selection. O
ddly, she was not surprised. If anything, it only deepened her growing sense of fatalism.

  At midnight, when the rest of those staying in her little cottage were asleep, she slipped out the door and went through the nighttime darkness to the Carolan and down into the Gardens of Life. She crept through the flowering shrubs and bedding plants, through the trellis vines and ornamentals to where the Ellcrys stood alone, shining crimson and silver in the moonlight. She knelt beneath her canopy.

  “I am here, Mistress,” she whispered.

  A slender branch lowered and came to rest on her shoulder.

  –You are still afraid, child. You are feeling so alone. No one wishes to take from you the burden I have given you to carry–

  “I told them what is happening. They could not bring themselves to believe it. I wanted one of them to say they hoped they would be the one you selected. I wanted just one to show a little of the courage I lack. It did not happen.”

  –At the time of your choosing, when I laid my branches on each of your shoulders, I sensed there was something that set you apart. Even then, I knew–

  Arling did not believe she could be the only one; she had never believed it, although the tree had said so repeatedly during their nighttime discussions. In her efforts to reassure Arling, the Ellcrys had said this was always so. The choosing was the time in which she was best able to determine who should serve as her successor should she become too ill to continue. It was no different for her as a sentient tree than for Elves or Humans: The elders of a species always measure the fitness of the young to take their place.

  “I did not tell them the whole truth,” Arling said after a moment. “Only that you were failing—something they could already see for themselves—and that a renewal must take place. I did not tell them you had already selected me.”

  –You still hope one of them will ask to be the bearer–

  “Yes.”

  On her shoulder, the Ellcrys’s branch shifted slowly to stroke the back of her neck.

  –I cannot wait for that to happen, child. There is no time for it. I am infected with my illness, worn down by my age, and fated to pass into history. I have served for so long. It has been my privilege to do so, but my service is ending. My seed must be carried to the Bloodfire and quickened–