With the help of the Advocate, and a tender touch, we hoist the litter with Jaymes in it to climb a small stoop to the entrance. At the top of the stoop, the Advocate bends over to release the litter and doesn’t get back up. He clenches his back in a low arched position and lumbers over to push on the bulky wood doors. I rush to his aid, but the door pivots with ease.
The Advocate’s struggles rapidly escape me. The interior of the chapel proves to be just as dramatic as the outside. We enter a spacious, circular room with a golden glow illuminating its entirety. Extending from the main chamber are four sunken coves—one for each season, I suppose—at the base of each tower.
The air is warm and musty with a sweetness to it. Not much different than the Broken Forest during a cooling summer’s eve. Maybe a touch cooler than that. Certainly not hot and arid as I’d predicted.
Warm granite tiles cover the floor with a variety of soiled colors ranging from the browns of dead leaves to the greens of a summer grass. It emulates a real, living forest floor. The floor in the center of the room is primarily tinted with browns. Flakes of oranges and yellows fade into the coves closest to me on my right. A touch of frosty blues and whites fade into the cove ahead of me on my right, and a hint of various shades of green fade into both the coves on my left.
“Please, feel free to worship.” The Advocate waves toward the summer cove. “I’ll return shortly.” He disappears down a stairwell I failed to recognize when we first entered. Not knowing how to worship, I soak in the wonder instead.
My father kept religion out of my life, so I’m unsure if this beauty is typical or if this House is full of fanatics. The chamber of autumn has two vibrantly colored giant-leaf maple trees rooted on each end, branching out above the opening to create an archway of reds, oranges, and yellows. There is an amber glow coming from somewhere above in the hollow tower. It’s romantic.
He was a man of the Crimson Guard, a general, and was driven by power and strength, not compassion and theory. I stroll to the winter chamber. It’s bordered with two barren trees covered in a thick layer of frost along with several icicles reaching for the floor. It has a beautiful wintry appeal with a bright white glow emanating from its dark, hollow tower.
My father, wherever he is now, did not feel it necessary for me to learn the good moral values that come from Susy. The spring cove is framed with two medium-sized sakura trees with fully bloomed cherry blossoms, some of which are showering the floor below. In addition to the contrasting and seductive pale-blue glow emitting from this cove, there’s a constant trickle of water. I breathe in the fresh scent. It differs from the mustiness circulating the central chamber.
He insisted religion would only make me weak, so he enrolled me into the Academy early on, where Susy was merely tolerated and set aside as a lesser priority. I wander to the fourth cove, summer, the season that is the pillar of my race, wondering if I am to pray here because it’s summer. Or if it’s because I’m a Sprhowt. I don’t know. It’s outlined with fig trees. Each with a plethora of ripe figs sprouting from the branches. Thick ivy grows up the trunks, and also invades the floor within. The tower radiates a warm indigo color. It’s a place of warmth and comfort. I sit on the pew and embrace the serenity of it, unsure what praying is supposed to look like.
The Advocate is quick to return as I trusted.
“Just a few more moments,” he declares as I arch my neck to see him. “I’ll have some disciples tend to Jay, and we’ll be on our way.”
“On our way?”
“Yes. To the healer, of course.”
“I thought—”
“The disciples are understudies of hers,” he interrupts. “I’ve summoned them to assist.”
I rise from the cove to fetch Jay. “Let’s be on our way then. To the Healer. We needn’t wait,” I assert. My unwarranted trust is wavering.
“We have time. The damage is already done.”
“Of course the damage is done.” My voice rises. “If we wait too long, it will be irreversible. Healers cannot resurrect.”
“No,” he laughs. “They surely cannot. But this is no ordinary healer.”
I’m ready to grab Jay’s reins and be on my way. Have my instincts given way to madness? Who is this man?
“She’s no Lahyf, young lad, but her tricks seem to do the job. With a few side effects mind that.” He slowly bends to one knee next to Jaymes, gripping his back as he does so, and evaluates her condition.
“Side effects? She’s not a Lahyf? Then how do you suppose she’ll heal Jaymes? She isn’t going to grow a third leg and chop this one off, is she? That is out of the question.”
The Advocate erupts with laughter. “But what if it saves her life? You’ll see,” he replies with excitement.
He raises his hand, gesturing for me to help him back to his feet.
I do so hesitantly. I have an urge to give him a nudge and topple him over instead. Then flee this house and pretend like I was never here.
“You seem to have great interest in protecting this young lass. What do you suppose will happen once she’s all bandaged up? All fixed? Are you to return to your dwelling in the forest? Where she is vulnerable to more threats like this. The Broken Forest is no place to call home, lad.”
“How much did St…er…Elder tell you?”
“Not much.” The Advocate scratches at his stubble. “He keeps his secrets tight. But enough to know you haven’t been living a savory life.”
“Can we walk?” I gesture toward the door.
“Certainly,” he responds and leads the way.
I go to grab Jay’s reins and follow, but a gentleman and a woman appear and lift Jay’s loosely wound litter into the air. They follow the Advocate through the doors. I brush my hand through my hair and take a deep breath.
“I suppose I’m to follow,” I mutter to myself.
The Advocate digs further. “The Broken Forest, then, are you going back?”
“That forest is no concern compared to what we escaped in the Crimson Capital.”
“And what did you escape?”
“Never mind. It’s not important.”
The Advocate’s brow raises as he stops at the bottom of the stoop to allow his disciples to jaunt ahead. He looks upon me with eyes that would berate a liar. “Everweed will not solve all your problems, lad. I saw the salve applied to her wounds.”
I’m intrigued by his accusation. “And what do you know of Everweed?”
“Never mind. It’s not important,” he mocks without pausing for a reaction. He continues walking with a hand on his back. My cheeks warm as if I were slapped in the face. “I am just an old angler turned Advocate, so it’s beyond me to suggest this, but do you know the tales of Old Lady Windblown?”
“I’ve heard of her, but she’s just some crazy old lady. A hermit residing deep within the wood, somewhere in the whereabouts of Greybark. Why is that beyond you? What are you suggesting? Is she the Healer?”
He shakes his head. “I met her once—”
“Never mind that, then. It’s not important. I’d like to know more about that Everweed. That is the resolution to my problems. A cure-all remedy. Could you imagine?” I offer a weak smile, but he fails to share one in return. Instead I get an appalled glare. He continues without scolding me, which is almost more effective than truly scolding me.
“I met Old Lady Windblown once. The Seezuhn religion is not her preferred belief, but that is neither here nor there. And yes, you’re correct. She is a crazy old lady living alone in the dark forest near Greybark. However, I have personal experience that tells me living all alone is not a bad thing. It allows for more time to collect your thoughts. Unfortunately, this is where I fall short. Collecting thoughts will result in a wisdom beyond that of an active tongue. But mine won’t seem to stop moving. Also, being old often has a direct connection to wisdom—again where I fall short. And being crazy is not necessarily a bad thing either. Craziness is a matter of perspective, and those who don’t understand or ar
e too dimwitted for pioneering thoughts tend to defer to crazy as a negative attribute. Crazy can also refer to someone being intensely enthusiastic about a topic, in which Old Lady Windblown is. Thus, she is a crazy old hermit lady, but in her case, it results in a wisdom that might just be helpful for your situation.”
“And why is that? Does she know more of this Everweed?”
“Never mind. As I said, it is beyond me to suggest. Forget it.” He raises a hand to suggest he’s done talking. He continues a slow pace with a hand on his back.
We walk through the commons, past the piers and all the boat houses to a small dwelling on the far end of town. The disciples wait at the doorstep.
The home is nothing out of the ordinary. A typical stick framed home with a thatched roof and a garden on the side yard full of ripe tomatoes and herbs. And a stone chimney, which has some light smoke billowing out of it. An aromatic smell of baked goods. Now that’s a savory life to live.
“Wonderful,” he says with delight as we approach the front door.
The door swings open as we approach. On the other side is a young girl with fair skin, silvery blonde hair extending down to the small of her back, and crystalline, grey eyes. I must have been staring at her like a little boy seeing a naked woman for the first time because I completely missed the introduction.
“Young lad…?” The Advocate nudges me to get my attention.
“Huh? What?” I stammer. My face gets warm, so I say the first thing that comes to mind, attempting to avoid the embarrassment. “Excuse me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen such beauty…” The Advocate’s brow wrinkles at my candid response. I shrug my shoulders. What does he expect? I’ve been in the woods for four seasons. He then looks to the beautiful blonde, and she blushes.
“I was saying…” he continues, “…this is Miss Astor Greyheart.”
“Goose Greyson.” I grasp her hand and put my lips to it. Her hand is soft to the touch, as to be expected by the looks of her. Like the House of Seasons, she’s a beautiful addition to this seasoned town. “And you are?”
“Astor.”
“Right. This gent already said that, didn’t he?” She looks at me with a puzzled gaze.
“A pleasure to meet you, Goose.” She waves the two disciples in and steps to the side, yielding to them. “So, that must be Jaymes. Or are you overbooking my schedule for the day, Gunther?” She smiles and kisses the Advocate on the cheek. “Thank you for being my liaison and for being so accepting of my wild requests. You didn’t have to wander to the Broken Forest alone, however. I anticipated you sending Nero out there.”
“Ah, I did. But I figured we’d cover more ground with the two of us. Plus, I’d come across as an old hound dog who’s lost his hunt if I didn’t carry my weight. More so than that stout and threatening young lad, Nero.”
“That Nero?” She points inside her home. “Who would snap under pressure like a dry noodle?” She smiles again and pats the Advocate on the shoulder. “Yes, you are an old hound dog, aren’t you? I can see you’ve already lost your sight.” She lowers her head and drops her tone in playful distress. “Next, it’ll be your hearing.”
“What, m’dear?”
“Excuse me.” I poke into their banter. Rude, but I don’t care. “You’re the Healer, are you not?”
A brilliant smile radiates from cheek to cheek as if my question is rhetorical.
“Come in. Step inside. Make yourself comfortable. I’m sure you’re fatigued. Gunther and I will take charge of your sister. She’s in good hands. That is, if you don’t mind Gunther—”
“Hold on!” I squall while back peddling. Why would I allow myself to be put into this situation? A surge of distrust swathes over me. It’s all going too smoothly. “Where’s St…Elder?” It’s going to take time to remember he’s using an alias. “I hope you don’t mind, but even with the veritable nature of the Advocate and your charming beauty, I cannot let myself be drawn into a corner.” Jaymes is already in her house. I’m already in her corner. “Do you work for Harris?”
Astor’s brilliant smile fades. “Harris? Harris who?” She pauses, and her eyes narrow. She continues intently. “Your brother…Elder…he informed me you’d be coming. I met him last night at the public house. He advised me his brother and sister were on their way and would be arriving sometime this evening.” A lazy grin appears on her face. “You made it a bit earlier than anticipated, but you are the two I’ve been waiting for, I presume? Have you not spoken with him?”
“No,” I retort. “I haven’t seen him since the morning prior.” Which is the gaping hole I can’t seem to leap across. “We parted ways early, and… There’s no way you conversed with him last night because it’s impossible he’s arrived before us.”
“You must be mistaken. My apologies for being so direct, but I did speak with him last night.” Her arms fold into each other. “Tall, and thin as a butter knife, with short, wavy, light-brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. Am I correct?”
Her voice is sweet and innocent. Hard to believe she would be lying to me, but I’m not convinced just yet.
“Wrong.” It comes out more aggressive than I intend. “That’s a common description that could match a number of young men. And he’s far from mesmerizing. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“There was a scar. At the base of his neck.” She continues with a hurried tongue. “I thought it soot from a fire chamber at first. He was in dire need of a bath. But he said it was a scar. After showing it to me, he expounded on his confrontation with Harris Martelli. Is that the Harris you were referring to? I’m here to help, Goose. I promise. And judging by her appearance, your sister doesn’t have much time, like you said.”
“I can vouch for her, Mr. Greyson. I know nothing about scars or Harris Martelli, but I can tell you Astor here is the sweetest young lady in town and she only knows love. She wouldn’t swat a mosquito if it were sucking the blood from her neck.”
I rub my neck and look to Astor. Her innocence is obvious. I’ve been in seclusion far too long. “Needed a bath, huh? That sounds more like the Elder I know. Alright then. I’ll accept your hospitality. But know the smallest thing that arouses suspicion and I’ll—”
“And you’ll what? Leave?” She deflates my empty threat. “I don’t need you to stay, but let me tend to your sister, please.”
It’s obvious she’s offended. I’ve already upset the woman who’s about to save Jaymes’s life before we even step foot into her home. I hope she really is as selfless as the Advocate makes her out to be or Jaymes might pay for my stupidity.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” She prods for a more elaborate apology.
Typical woman. They’re always in need of more than they deserve.
“Only knows love, huh?” I look to the Advocate. He shrugs. “I’m sorry.” I clearly enunciate then attempt to explain myself. “I don’t know how much…er… Elder told you, but we have reason to tread lightly around strangers. Please, forgive my discourteous behavior.” I offer a subtle bow.
“Forgiven.” She looks to the Advocate. “Gunther, will you be assisting today?”
He shakes his head. “Susy calls. Between the four of you, I think you can manage without me.”
“Perhaps. Thank you, Gunther.” She places a caring hand on his shoulder.
“Yes, thank you for all your help, Gunther. It’s greatly appreciated and won’t be forgotten.” I firmly grasp his hand and pat him on the back.
The harmless action must have reminded him of the pain because he grips his back with both hands as his brows press in on each other.
“You’re poor back. If only there were something I could offer you to ease the pain.” Astor helps him down the stoop. “Susy can wait. Go lie down.”
So she’s a Healer that can’t heal everything. And the grey eyes. She’s a Hiberneyt. Hiberneyts aren’t Healers. Unless…she uses other methods. My thoughts drift to Everweed.
�
�Ah, it’s nothing. It’ll be fine. And it’s my pleasure to assist where I can. Anything to assist the life of this land. May the spring rains nourish your frame, the summer sun enliven your mind, the autumn foliage serenade your heart, and the winter frost attune your soul." He smiles and strolls back the way we came.
The interior of Astor’s home is as welcoming as the outside. It is well lit with natural light. Cluttering knickknacks decorate every shelf. Fresh cut flowers are compiled throughout, and it is filled with a fresh linen aroma lingering in the air. It reminds me of my grandmother’s home.
Nero and his companion—Crescia, I presume, though I haven’t been formally introduced to either—have already placed Jay in a cot off to the side of the common space. At the sight of it, I find myself wishing I were the one deserving of an infirmary. It is much nicer than what we’ve endured the past four seasons and leagues better than the tree we slept in last night. Her head is sunken into a large down pillow, thick woven blankets tucked on either side of her. Real cotton linens, and…Susy’s blessing…an actual bed pad. Not a pile of tree debris.
“Yo-yo Goose-o!” A familiar voice calls from behind me.
“Stone!” Realizing I’ve called the wrong name, I stutter a few incoherent words.
“It’s okay.” Astor acknowledges the mistake. “I’m well aware Elder is an alias. I know the story of the McLarins and the accusations thrown at their children. There’s no need to withhold the truth from me, but you can open up in your own time.” She heads straight to Jaymes, not waiting for a reply.
Stone and I both stare in astonishment. So she knows our story. And she helps regardless. A small weight lifts, accompanied by an appreciative grin. Chasing lies is no different than swatting flies. When you attempt to squash one, it buzzes about without remorse, seemingly multiplying, eating away at your sanity. When you leave it be, eventually you find it lying dead and forgotten. Maybe our fly is dead and forgotten. Though it’s a rather large and dark one, unlike those little white ones. What do they call them—no-see-ems?
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 13