The Awakening

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “Follow me,” Robyn said. “Yonder are the lifts.” He pointed to a mighty Noban ahead and to the right. “They are sealed, as I had hoped. We must signal them above.”

  Filaree and Cairn gazed in wonder at the flat surface that appeared above them. It seemed as if they were standing below the plain of the land, not upon it, and looking upward, or even as if they were upside down and staring at the earth as if it was the ceiling. They could distinguish the differences between the tree limbs themselves and the lifts that stood between them, but only by virtue of the smoothness of the surfaces, as opposed to the gnarly ones. There were no cracks or gaps between the constructed platforms and the living trees. Merely some more geometric lines, straighter edges and such, marked the elevators.

  The enormous tree trunks were covered in a dark brown bark and rose straight into the sky. The lower extremities were smooth and impossible to climb. Not only were they incredibly wide, but there were no crevices or notched surfaces in which one could place a foot or grab. They looked like giant columns of stone, but far larger than anything man or elf could ever have erected. Far above, they could see the many limbs branching out like fingers cupping a plate, holding up the concealed city overhead.

  From below, it seemed as if the city went on forever, as the forest of Lormarion stretched in all directions and hundreds of Nobans grew within one hundred feet of one another, creating a maze of sorts beneath their spans which had been paved and landscaped by the elves above in better and safer times. The roadways wound through the tree trunks as far as the eye could see, and wherever there was a lift, a station was built, marked by a sign upon which was indicated what type of commerce could be carted into and out of the city from that point. Some were for food and such, others for visitors, while still others were marked for animals and heavier products.

  It was breathtaking and the beauty below clearly only mimicked that which they knew existed above, high in the clouds.

  “Follow me,” Robyn said, as he walked deeper into the musty smelling territory ahead. “We must find the proper lift if we wish to make our presence known and enter.”

  The three walked quite some way, winding through the paths off of the main avenue that ran beneath the Heights. The light did not grow much dimmer, even as they rode deep into the forest, and the air was fresh and clean smelling. Both Cairn and Filaree kept looking in all directions for the source of the constant illumination, but they could not find any fires burning, any orbs of light glistening or even any glowbugs of any kind.

  “Look up, Filaree,” Cairn finally said, satisfied at last that the mystery was partially solved.

  “How high up do you suppose that funnel goes?” she asked, staring at a round opening perhaps ten feet in diameter above them.

  “It seems to be never ending. The light though, is being reflected off of something. I cannot see to the top. It also is being diffused somehow before it reaches the ground. Ingenious,” Cairn commented, impressed with the feat of engineering.

  Robyn knew where he wanted to go, and he walked with purpose, never hesitating or searching for signs to guide him forward. Finally, he paused beneath a large, squared ceiling, framed by four massive trees which stood next to another of the huge round funnels that emitted the light and brightened the entire forest.

  “Those tubes reach all the way to the sky. They are curved outwards so that if an enemy tries to enter Seramour from the sky, it would merely terminate its attempt here, below, and vice versa,” Robyn advised them. “Anyone or thing trying to use the funnels as a source of entry from below, would only end up further away from the city, outside the tree line after scaling the slippery surfaces, than when they started. The elves are quite resourceful when it comes to construction,” he said.

  “Brilliant, I would say,” Cairn asserted. “And down here, it seems as if we are still standing beneath a sunlit sky.”

  “Air also enters from the funnels, Cairn. Not just light. Do you feel it?” Filaree asked, standing under one of the large openings and bathing in both the light and the fresh breeze from above.

  “Yes,” he said, walking over toward her. “It feels wonderful, particularly after the deathly atmosphere we just traversed,” he observed.

  “How did they get the light to curve around the bends without diminishing in intensity?” Filaree questioned.

  “They position highly polished pieces of Noban at critical angles. The wood is so dense that it does not burn, but it reflects the rays and even intensifies them,” Robyn explained. “Can you see the bottom of the tube?” Robyn asked.

  Filaree and Cairn craned their necks and looked up.

  “The elves cover the ends with a paper thin sheet of plant fiber. They grow it especially for this purpose. The fiber diffuses the light, and then magnifies it once more. The air is drawn down the funnel like water in a suction tube, and it keeps everything cool. They are wonderful engineers,” Robyn concluded with pride in his voice as if he was of the race himself.

  “They most certainly are,” Cairn agreed. “I cannot wait to see the city itself.”

  “You will shortly, if we ever stop talking about it and attempt to make our entry,” Filaree responded.

  “Will Calyx be accompanying us?” Robyn inquired of Cairn, interrupting the momentary pleasure the other two were taking in their observations.

  “Yes, I expected him too. He will make his appearance shortly, I am sure,” Cairn answered unconcerned.

  As soon as he finished his sentence, as if the Moulant had heard him and timed its appearance accordingly, Calyx bounded out from behind one of the huge tree trunks. Cairn smiled knowingly, and then placed his arm across the cat-like animal’s back.

  “You certainly know your friend,” Robyn said.

  “That I do,” Cairn replied, kneading Calyx’s thick fur.

  “Are we ready?” Filaree asked. “How do we let them know we are here?”

  “They probably know already,” Robyn replied.

  “Are they going to let us stand here forever then, admiring their work from below, or will they let us in?” Cairn asked.

  “They are merely being cautious. I am sure they see the approaching clouds better from the Heights than we do from down here. And they must be aware of the silence of the wolves. After all, we are strangers, and Elion is no longer with us, and they must have expected him. Baladar informed them of our journey,” Filaree noted.

  Robyn approached the nearest tree trunk and placed his open palms flat upon it. He seemed to be searching for something. When he found what he sought, he pressed his hand hard against the surface and then quickly backed up.

  “Watch the lift,” Robyn said. “The lines of demarcation grow wider.”

  Sure enough, as they watched, the square lines that distinguished the platforms from the rest of the trees’ foliage began to grow clearer in shape, and wider, separating slightly and allowing cracks of light to break through the seams. Shortly, the entire lift began to descend slowly. Robyn, Cairn and Filaree, along with Calyx cautiously observing from behind another tree, locked their eyes upon the wooden rafts as they seemingly floated down to them upon the buoyant air, releasing a wonderful fragrance along with a glimpse of a world above that was beautiful and seemingly so secure.

  The thought of the boy lying unconscious above permeated all of their thoughts. Filaree pressed her hand to her chest for reassurance, though the ring dangling upon its chain was heavy and obvious and she did not need to touch it to verify its presence. It felt as if it pulsed with her heartbeat.

  Soon, we will all be in Seramour, she thought, her mind racing ahead with each passing second.

  In moments, they could see faces peering down upon them, and they could hear uneasy voices mingling with stern commands. Guards lined the perimeters of the lift with their weapons drawn, prepared for any eventuality. In the center leaning apprehensively over the edge, stood an older elf with a long white beard that hung almost to his knees. His blue eyes darted left and right, scannin
g the ground, searching for someone that those below knew he would not find in their company.

  “Treestar will be terribly disappointed,” Robyn commented as he observed the anxious elf. “I will advise him of Elion’s departure from the group as soon as I can. It will be difficult for him to abide, I fear,” he said downcast.

  As the guards jumped from the platform and approached the visitors cautiously, the travelers began to move forward slowly, not wishing to alarm them unduly under the uneasy circumstances.

  Robyn raised his hand in greeting, while he cautioned his companions in a hushed voice, “Prepare yourselves, my friends. The purpose of our ‘coming’ is finally upon us.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Alemar pulled lightly upon Shira’s reins and the mare came to an instant stop. She stood up tall in her saddle and peered ahead, a troubled look in her eyes. Giles and Clovis pulled up alongside of her and rested for a moment as well. They had been riding for most of the morning and afternoon, and they had covered a considerable amount of ground.

  “What is it, Princess?” Clovis questioned.

  “I am not sure, but I thought I heard a sound ahead, and it did not seem to simply be the wind blowing through the snow.” She put her gloved finger to her lips and raised her chin high. “Did you hear it?” she asked the others.

  “I did, my Lady,” Giles said immediately. “At least I heard something. I do not know what.”

  “So did I,” Clovis said. “And it had a distinct animal quality to it. What would be here, so close to the pass?”

  “Are we that close?” Giles asked. “I thought the Pass of the Righteous was surrounded by more ice and snow than this,” he commented, scanning the horizon around them.

  “It was the last time I ventured out here,” Alemar responded. “Things have changed, I fear.”

  “Well, at least it will make our approach a bit easier,” Giles commented. “I cannot say that I was looking forward to fighting our way up the hills and through the dunes.”

  “Better that we had to struggle to reach the pass than to have discovered just how badly it has deteriorated,” Alemar said, pointing to the surface ahead. “Follow me, but tread lightly. Make no sudden moves,” she warned, as she urged Shira ahead.

  The other two followed close behind, making certain that they did not increase their pace and disturb the snow any more than was absolutely necessary.

  Alemar lurched to the left. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” they both responded simultaneously.

  “It was a voice, I am certain,” Alemar said.

  “I agree, my Lady. But where was it coming from? There is no place here to conceal oneself, particularly now, with the snow barely as deep as it is in the southern hills,” Clovis asked.

  “I can practically see the ice beneath our feet,” Giles said, staring through the snow beneath him. “Are we not traveling upon rock, my Lady?” he asked.

  “No Giles. We are not. In fact, this entire area was once a great sea, the scholars think. It has been frozen over since time untold. But the Tomes refer to the Sea of the Righteous a number of times, and the location seems to be the same as that of the Pass. Do you not remember being taught about the army of Iscaron?”

  “Iscaron? The name is vaguely familiar. I was never too good a student,” Clovis answered.

  “Neither was I, but I remember Iscaron. Was he not the elfin King who sought out the caves of Carloman in order to save his ailing daughter?”

  “Yes, that was he. He had three sons before her, but Alicea, his youngest, was the love of his life. He cherished her and adored her, particularly after his wife died of the sleeping sickness. His obsession with her grew and grew with time. The Tomes say that he even believed that she embodied the spirit of his dead wife. He lived only for her, and denied his other children his attention,” Alemar recounted, treading lightly upon the snow-covered ground.

  “When his daughter came down with the same illness as Kala, his deceased wife, he was beside himself. He beseeched the trees to help him, but he was met with only silence. He approached the Chosen, Emment, but he too offered no assistance. Iscaron grew embittered, and soon he began to panic. He would not accept what was happening and he lost his senses. In desperation, he sought out the Caves of Carloman, thinking that he would find a cure amongst the holy places therein. His wife had been a religious woman, and she had always spoken of the caves as a place of great magic, an abode where the gods convened. Meanwhile, his daughter was growing weaker and weaker with each passing hour.”

  Alemar glanced upward momentarily, and then she removed one glove from her hand. She raised her palm to the sky and collected a few droplets of water upon it. “It is so warm, I do not even believe the moisture is coming from the clouds. It seems as if the snow is evaporating and insinuating itself into the very air.” She put her glove back on, and returned to her narrative as they walked across the snow strewn plateau.

  “After the King tried every method he could to heal his precious daughter, and after each and every one failed, he grew despondent and angry. Finally, Iscaron rallied his army, and in his twisted mind, he thought to march upon the Gods themselves and impel them to save Alicea. Unwilling to accept her fate, he emptied Eleutheria of its soldiers, and marched out the gates and across the plains. Spring was approaching, and a great thaw had already set in. The snows were still heavy, and they blanketed the countryside, but the surface of the sea was thinner than ever before.”

  “What of the women and children left behind?” Clovis asked.

  “He abandoned them in his anguish, never thinking they were in harm’s way, sealed inside Eleutheria.”

  “Did the army follow him willingly?” Giles questioned.

  “Reluctantly, it is said,” Alemar noted. “But, they were loyal to their King, and they all recognized his enormous distress. They held the banners of Eleutheria high as they marched from the city.”

  “What became of them?”

  “You two really do not know your history at all,” she commented, surprised. “When the army was midway across the frozen sea, disaster struck. A burning rock fell from the heavens, and burst through the surface upon which they trod. Already undermined by the unusually warm temperatures, the entire plain of ice cracked like a broken mirror, and Iscaron, along with everyone who accompanied him, fell into the still freezing water. As quickly as it shattered, the surface re-froze, trapping the thousands of warriors beneath, where they all died a horrible and untimely death. Strangely, the weather returned to normal with the sinking of the stone that fractured the ice, as if it was the cause of the change to begin with.”

  “I do remember one thing that I was taught, although it was my father who afforded me this knowledge, not a teacher,” Giles recalled. “Was not Caeltin’s casting from the council described in a similar manner? Did he not appear as a burning rock tumbling out of the sky”?”

  “Ah, that you would not forget,” Alemar responded. “It would be hard to, I imagine. Do you not remember that too, Clovis?”

  “Yes, I think so, my Lady. But my memory is unclear. Certainly, I recall Caeltin D’Are Agenathea being spoken of as a ball of hell fire. I never thought it was meant literally though,” he answered.

  “Well, what Giles remembers is true. The day that our ancestor’s armies were lost beneath the frozen surface of the Pass of the Righteous was the very same day that the Tomes recorded Caeltin’s fall from the council.” Alemar hugged herself with both her arms for a minute, seized by a momentary chill. “I doubt that it was a mere coincidence,” she said seriously.

  “You think that it was the Evil One who shattered the ice and caused the drowning of Iscaron and his men?”

  “I always did. Even as a small child. And, I am not alone. The timing cannot be entirely coincidental. The fabric weaves of its own will, my friends. One occurrence can merely change the sheen or hue, or it can alter the entire cloth. His enmity for those stirred by noble emotions, along
with his bitterness surely found fulfillment when he drowned that desperate man and his army beneath the ice.”

  Clovis turned a serious face to the Princess.

  “What became of Alicea?” he asked after a few moments of silence, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Miraculously, with the return of the temperatures to normal, she recovered from her illness in a matter of days.”

  “And he never knew,” Clovis said as if to himself.

  “No. He must have died thinking she was doomed. It was all such an improbable tragedy.”

  “What became of her and her people when the army did not return?” Giles questioned, quite interested now.

  Alemar hesitated before she answered, absorbed in her own thoughts. She glanced from left to right, her beautiful features marred by a troubled expression, before she responded to her friend’s inquiry.

  “They survived,” she said softly. “The boys grew up faster than they would have otherwise, and the elders governed until the others were of age. Many maidens married young, and the city was repopulated in time,” she answered.

  “Did his daughter ever come to rule? After all, she survived the loss of her mother and her father? Was it too much for her to bear?” Clovis inquired.

  “No. She was strong, even as a child,” Alemar said, full of pride. “Yes, she ruled. In fact, she sat upon the ice throne for longer than any Queen before her. My great, great, great, great grandmother was an unusually gifted woman,” she concluded preening, with a coy grin upon her face.

  “Ah, I should have known,” Giles said, looking sideways at Alemar. “The Ice Queen’s legacy is one to be proud of. I just never knew her name was Alicea, though I know the stories well. I did not have to listen in school to learn of her exploits. My mother never stopped drumming them into me. I have to admit, though, I did enjoy hearing about her. She must have been quite a lady, Princess. I envy you the blood you share. It has always been obvious to me that you were most nobly born, forgetting the titles for a moment.”