The Awakening

by Gary Alan Wassner

  Crea paused.

  “You should not wish for a life like mine. It is full with accomplishment and rife with satisfaction, but it is a lonely one nevertheless. Surely I have companionship at all times, but here in Eleutheria I do not have the opportunity to commune often with others. What I have had to sacrifice is inconsequential in the greater scope of events, but you are destined for other things.”

  Explain to her, Crea. She must be enlightened, the elf Princess distinctly heard in a voice unlike any she had heard before today. In fact, she was not even sure that she heard it with her ears. It seemed more as if it emanated from within her head.

  “The trees are being threatened by a situation so discomfiting, so thoroughly ironic in nature, that it pains me to even discourse upon it. You though…”

  Get to the point, my friend. She does not need all of this prattle to understand the significance of what you have to say, the voice broke in to the Chosen’s sentence.

  “Who was that speaking?” Alemar finally asked, and she looked from side to side, perplexed by the sounds invading her mind.

  “Who was what?” Crea asked surprised.

  “That voice. I distinctly heard a voice other than yours interrupt you just a moment ago.”

  “There is no one else here but you and I, Princess. It is impossible unless you are hearing things,” he responded, more calmly than before.

  “I did not imagine it, Crea,” she said defiantly.

  Is it possible, my friend? the voice echoed again.

  “There— You heard that, did you not?” she questioned.

  “What exactly did you hear, Alemar?” the Chosen asked her seriously now.

  “I heard a voice say ‘Is it possible, my friend?’,” she replied without hesitation.

  May the First bless us all, it declared.

  Alemar searched from left to right with her eyes. Then she pivoted upon her delicate feet and looked in all directions, expecting to find a living being behind a bush or tree.

  “Where is he hiding and why must he conceal himself from us?” she asked.

  You will not find anyone to whom you can attribute the sounds, my dear, she heard echo within her head.

  “Please, Crea, what is happening? I am becoming frightened,” she said honestly, and consternation creased her pale forehead.

  “I wish I could tell you, Alemar. It seems that somehow you are hearing Wayfair speak to me, even though he did not allow this intentionally,” the tall man said.

  “The Lalas? I heard a Lalas speak?” she asked, astonished at the prospect.

  “Apparently so, Alemar. I cannot understand it myself. This is highly unusual.”

  Unusual? It is unheard of, Wayfair chimed in.

  The voice was so deep and so mellow that Alemar wanted to hear it over and over again. It brightened her with encouragement despite the words. Just the tone and the fact that it rose from within her mind, not from without, made it sound so pure and full. She wished only for it to speak again.

  I have not chosen her and yet she hears me converse with you. How odd. It must be the mark— Wayfair concluded.

  “I was going to tell you, Alemar,” Crea began.

  “Tell me what?”

  He spends too much time on trivial matters, Alemar. Speak Crea, I am losing my patience.

  “The star behind your ear is not a mere coincidence. You were marked at birth, as you suspected. But not as a Chosen. You were destined for other things,” Crea said. Turning to Wayfair, he too spoke in the silent language of the trees.

  Was that clear enough, my friend? May I continue, or would you rather tell her yourself if you think you can do it any faster than I am able to? he asked with fond sarcasm in his voice.

  That was fine, just fine Crea. But you must explain more to her. Time grows short, he said more seriously now.

  “There are some things that we know and some things that we can only speculate about. The Tomes give us insight into the future, but only into its possibilities. There are so many contingencies that.…”

  Would you please get to the point. I do not wish the girl to be merely a nub in the fabric, Crea. She must create her own pattern, and if you spend any more time philosophizing, her moment may pass, the great tree interrupted.

  “Please speak to her yourself then Wayfair, as you apparently ardently wish to do so still and all,” he replied patiently.

  That is a very good idea. I think I will, since she can hear everything I say anyway.

  Alemar gazed upon the giant Lalas and waited for it to continue. She had quickly grown accustomed to the means by which it communicated with her and she was now very anxious to ‘hear’ the melodious voice once again.

  The world is changing; the patterns are fading and new ones are revealing themselves. But there are those who wish to alter them to their own advantage. And, for the first time in this age, it is possible that one individual can. It is Caeltin D’Are Agenathea of whom I speak my dear, if you have not guessed so by now. He has caused considerable harm already, yet all that he does may only serve to promote what we seek, if he is unable to complete his task. We do not know for sure, as the future is riddled with possibility only.

  “Can you not get on with it, Wayfair? I fear I may fall asleep before you finish,” Crea interrupted, smiling.

  You have an important part to play in this episode Alemar, and you must prepare to begin your journey, Wayfair continued, ignoring Crea’s remarks.

  “What must I do?” she asked, eyes wide and bright.

  You and two others whom you choose to join you, must travel across the Pass of the Righteous to the Caves of Carloman. There you will meet your destiny, he said solemnly.

  “I thought the Caves were merely myth. Are they real after all?” she questioned, astonished.

  They are quite real, my dear. I have seen them through others’ eyes and they are as palpable as you and I.

  “Can you not tell me more about my pursuit?” she questioned the tree.

  I know nothing more, Alemar. You were born for this purpose, of that I am positive. The books make it clear that you are the one and the earth tells me so. I cannot be wrong. But whom you must meet, what you must retrieve, what actions you shall take… of this, I have no knowledge.

  “You must leave immediately, though,” Crea spoke, interrupting the Lalas. “Time is of the essence. We could not hasten your awakening. It was for you to come to us, not for us to beckon to you.”

  “I have my brother to thank for that,” she said under her breath.

  There is purpose behind everything that occurs, my dear. After all, I did not choose to have you hear me speak to my Chosen today and yet you were able to nonetheless, Wayfair said seriously.

  Alemar contemplated the tree’s comments as well as her other instructions for a moment. Realizing that there was little more she could ask that would enlighten her any farther, particularly considering that Wayfair himself was surprised too by this turn of events, she readied herself to depart.

  “I must go back and inform my father of my charge. I could not leave without so doing.”

  The fewer who know of what you do, the better. There are powers that oppose us now that are greater than they were even a mere month ago. Speak of this as little as you can, the voice spoke from within her mind.

  “I will tell only my father and he will not betray my confidence.”

  Choose your companions carefully. The selection must be yours and yours alone, but it is a crucial one, Wayfair emphasized.

  “It is also an easy one,” she replied immediately, thankful that at least something was perfectly clear to her. “Clovis and Giles will accompany me. There are none better in all of Eleutheria.”

  “Good. It is done then,” Crea said with finality.

  There is one thing you have forgotten, my friend, is there not? he asked of his Chosen.

  “Ah, the flame. Yes, Wayfair, I did almost forget. But I happen to have it here in my hand, coincidentally as you may think
,” Crea responded, feigning innocence.

  I thought that perhaps it was lost amongst your many words, my friend, the tree responded fondly.

  Crea handed Alemar what appeared to be a simple stick, a finger’s length, encircled in a finely woven silver cocoon. One end had a hole through it and through that hole Crea passed a chain of the same woven silver. He walked to Alemar and placed it over her delicate head.

  “You need only wish for it and the fragment will light your way in the darkness. It will not dwindle unless you so wish it and it cannot ever be used up,” the Chosen said.

  You will need it, Alemar. Keep it safe always. Do not entrust it to anyone else. Its power would be useless to another, Wayfair warned.

  “I will do as you say and I will leave as soon as possible,” the elf Princess answered humbly.

  Yes, you must. But be forever warned, Alemar. Your journey will be an arduous one. Rely upon only those whose love and devotion you are certain of. Do not be deceived by pretense and flattery. When and if you discover what you need to, you will know it. There will be no doubt in your mind. Trust your instincts. After all, you are a Chosen, Wayfair concluded.

  Alemar blushed deeply at the great tree’s comment. She could not believe that this was really happening and that Wayfair referred to her as a “Chosen”. With an overwhelming sense of pride and no small amount of trepidation, she said her good-byes to the two whom she had come to merely to ask their advice just moments ago.

  She felt the weight upon her shoulders, but it did not cause her to stumble or give way beneath it. Flicking her long blonde hair behind her shoulders, she raised her delicate chin, walked to Crea and kissed him farewell. Wayfair bent a long branch nearly to the ground and caressed her cheek with a slender tendril. She pressed one large leaf tenderly to her skin and held it there for a brief moment. The fragrance was divine and she wished never to forget it as she regretfully released it from her grasp. Crea bowed deeply and Wayfair rustled his bows and branches as Alemar turned to leave.

  “Farewell, my friends,” she said looking backward over her shoulder. “I will not disappoint you. I promise.”

  She gazed upon the snow covered peaks that encircled her homeland as she walked back to the city. The strong summer sun sent rivulets of silver water cascading down the steep mountains and it glistened and glimmered like great schools of silver fish swimming under the ice lakes. She knew that the beauty she saw all around her was elusive and tenuous and that despite the loveliness of the vision, the mountains concealed a bleak and formidable reality into which she must now venture. She rubbed the powder off of the mark behind her ear, and exposed it to the daylight. Alemar vowed to never again conceal it from anyone but rather to reveal it proudly, knowing now that she had been right all along in her inclinations.

  Her mind was racing by the time she reached the massive gates of sculpted ice that kept the city safe from any and all intruders. She entered through the same small passage, but somehow it felt different now. With a new purpose, Alemar walked steadfast toward the palace and her father, the King.

  Chapter Nine

  The group bid a reluctant farewell to Baladar and the citizens of the city into which they had all entered those two scant months ago. It was a bittersweet parting, harder surely for some than for others, but difficult for them all nonetheless. Baladar stood atop the Ghost Tower, solitary and tall with his proud chin held high, though tension and sadness clearly marked his handsome features. Throngs of people gathered at the Noban gates, shrouded in the somber blankets of silence and solemnity. The river coursed by, reflecting the sunlight off of the many and varied surfaces of the swiftly flowing waters. High above the river to the north, Calista’s stone sentinel emitted a bright and matchless beacon, illuminating the companions as well as the youngling, the beautiful sapling around which they all stood. From afar, they appeared as if they were bathing in a pool of liquid silver and pale pink, humbly acknowledging the silent gratitude of the crowds.

  “Come, friends. We cannot linger here forever,” Filaree of Avalain finally said.

  “ Filaree’’s right. It will get no easier for any of us if we wait another day or even a tiel,” Robyn agreed as he gathered his cloak about him.

  Cairn moved in front of the company and signaled for their attention in his own quiet manner. “Can we not salute Baladar in unison one final time before we depart?” he asked from his heart, moved almost to tears by the moment. “Perhaps our leave-taking will be softened for him in time by the final image we leave behind in his mind’s eye.”

  “Yes, let us. It is hard enough for him to remain behind whilst we all march,” Prince Elion reiterated, feeling the mantle of the moment heavy upon his own shoulders.

  Without the need for another word, the friends assembled facing the formidable tower upon which Baladar stood unmoving. From left to right was first Calyx, the giant Moulant. Next to him was Cairn. Then came Tomas arm in arm with Preston, followed by Robyn and Filaree. Finally, Elion completed the line of travelers. They all raised their eyes to look upon Baladar and they stood in perfect silence, each one remembering his or her ‘calling’, the first encounter with the Lord of the city, the particular circumstances of their own arrival or simply their weighty decision to make this fortuitous pilgrimage to Pardatha.

  The events of the past months flashed before each of their eyes according to the individual’s unique perspective. Yet they were all now bound together by a common goal, one that manifested itself in the patterns they severally and jointly created, all woven from a common thread, creating the fabric’s very special shape and form, its unparalleled sheen and luminosity. They singularly recognized the enemy all too clearly and they individually knew what they must do in order to maintain the health and well being of their people and their world. Baladar in his own wise and gentle manner, set into motion the events that would change the face of the land forever, and this group of disparate confidants would now continue on the path that he could no longer tread.

  After a moment of wordless contemplation, Baladar raised his right arm in salute and bid a final farewell to his friends. They responded in kind, each thrusting his or her right arm high in the air, and as they turned to mount their horses and ponies, all the people of Pardatha who had gathered in the city, on the banks of the River of Tears, atop the battlements, on the streets, in their doorways and in the fields, raised their right arms as well in silent tribute to their beloved leader and as a parting testimonial to the group whose future meant so much to so many.

  With Filaree in the lead, they rode northward toward Calista’s pillar and the ridge above the river, across which they would travel to the other side of the glistening and churning water. Once over, they would turn southward and head directly for the Plain of the Wolves and the tree-top city of Seramour in the land of Lormarion; to Davmiran and to their destiny.

  Chapter Ten

  “It’’s not right. He protects a human and sacrifices all of us. Why must I be locked in the Heights when my love is down below? I wish to see her, to be with her. I cannot stand to live apart any longer.”

  “Stop your whining, Ruffin,” the young elf’s mother said. “You blaspheme the King. He does what he must and who are you to question his wisdom? Besides, you never loved Aramela as much when she was at your side as you do now that she is not,” she scowled.

  “The King risks the safety of all of us for a human child. He’’s grown too old and too weak to know what is right.”

  “And you are blinded by your lust for your woman, son, and you no longer speak rationally. Hush now. I will hear no more of this treason in my home,” she lambasted him.

  “Treason? You call me a traitor? Have you lost your mind too, old woman?”

  “Do not speak to me so. I am still your mother,” she snapped as she approached the angry boy with a broomstick she grabbed from the comer.

  “Will you strike me now with that, mother? Do you think I’’m not strong enough to thwart you? I am no lon
ger a child, and you are blinded by your loyalty to the old ways.”

  “They have served us all well, Ruffin, have they not, the old ways? I do not see you complaining for want of food to eat or clothes to wear. Do you toil so hard that your fingers are raw from your labors?” she asked, mocking. “You are a lazy, good for nothing child.”

  The auburn-haired elf moved slowly to the other side of the small room. He turned his back upon his mother for a moment and obscuring his movements, he picked up a cooking pan made of cast metal that was sitting upon the table before him.

  “If your father were still alive, he would put you in your place,” she chastised. “He was a good man, a loyal elf. What has become of our family?” wringing her hands. “You would not have spoken to him the way you speak to me. You would have shown some respect.”

  “He was a fool, mother! He was a simpleton. Look around you. What did father do for us? He left us here in this hovel and now I cannot even be with my love,” he said more agitated than before, his back still to his mother.

  She swung around, “My husband was no such thing! He was a good and kind man and he loved us dearly. How can you say such horrible things? I am ashamed for you. You dishonor us all,” she said, sobbing. “What have I done to deserve this?”

  “You are no better than he was, mother. You are weak and sentimental. I will not live this way forever. I want more than this!”

  “What you may want and what you will get depends upon how hard you work, son. Things do not come to us merely for wanting them. Such foolish talk. I raised you badly and now I suffer a mother’s pain for it. May the First forgive me. What have I brought into this world?”

  “I will have more! This human’s presence here will not keep me locked up in the Heights. The King lives gloriously in his palace and I live like a dog, tending his gates, keeping him safe so that he can sacrifice our happiness for a man-child. His own son even ran away from him!”