Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates

by Jeff J. Peters

  “He gave you quite a workout.”

  Brax nodded and continued eating, dipping some bread into the bowl to sop up the gravy.

  “Ha! I took it easy on ya ’cause I knew it was your first time,” Ruskin retorted. “I don’t think any of the Mins will be quite so gentle.”

  Brax knew he was right, but his body hurt from where he’d been struck multiple times, bypassing his weak attempts to deflect the strikes. Frustrated and tired from the exercise, he felt his eyes keep threatening to shut. They finished their meal and turned in early. Despite the pain from the many welts and bruises on his limbs, Braxton fell quickly asleep.

  * * *

  It was a little past midnight when he woke with a start. Something had pulled him from his sleep. He sat up and looked around the clearing. Ruskin and Gavin lay still, their rhythmic breathing evidence that neither had heard whatever had alerted him. Even Bear was asleep next to the dying fire, something Brax found odd, considering the elkhound’s superior senses.

  He listened for a moment, straining his eyes to pierce the darkness that surrounded their camp, but nothing moved. Bullfrogs drummed their nighttime song near the little stream while closer by crickets hummed. An owl hooted in the distance, causing Brax to jump, but, otherwise, the night seemed undisturbed. He lay back down, reassured by the ongoing chorus that would have ceased in the presence of movement, when he heard the voice.

  “You should pay more attention to your senses, young Braxton.”

  He shot up, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling as he looked across the dying fire. He was about to call to the others when the visitors entered the clearing. There, standing before him, was his grandfather Tyrrideon, his hand resting gently on the mane of a beautiful white unicorn, its presence radiating a faint inner glow. His grandfather smiled, showing a familiarity that immediately put Brax at ease. He wore a pair of green pants that extended to his knees, with his calves and feet bare, and a loose-fitting cotton shirt with broad sleeves that ended at his elbows. Two small interlocking circles, one above the other, were embroidered in golden thread at the center of his otherwise plain covering.

  “Grandpa Ty?” Braxton asked, scrambling to his feet.

  “Yes, it’s me, my boy, come to see how you’re doing.”

  “But how . . . how is this possible?” Brax stammered. “You . . . died years ago!”

  “Never mind that,” his grandfather laughed. “I’ve come to introduce you to someone.” He looked at the unicorn and gently stroked its face. Its soft white hair shimmered in the moonlight, radiating the glow Brax had noticed earlier, its silver horn a spire of brightness that parted and held back the night. He’d heard of such things in legends before and always believed they belonged to myth rather than reality. Yet now this magnificent spirit-creature stood before him, as if having stepped out of a dream and into his world.

  “Her name is Serene, and it is her essence that resides in that sword you tried to use tonight. She’s here to see if you’re worthy of that gift.”

  “Gift?”

  “Yes, the gift of being able to use her weapon. You see, Braxton, each spirit sword contains the essence of a spirit being, and it is that purity that keeps their Wielders balanced. They were gifts given to the first human king when the world was still young, intended to help his governing and ensure that the race of men grew up with spirit guidance—that their egos were kept in check. To use one, you must first join with the creature from which it came. Only then can you truly learn to wield it. Serene is here to see if that honor should pass to you.”

  “What must I do?” he asked, unsure what his grandfather meant.

  “You need to let her join with you, Brax. She will look into your innermost thoughts, feel your deepest emotions, and see your greatest desires. If you prove worthy, she will pass the honor she once bestowed on me to you, and your life will never be the same.”

  Braxton stared at his grandfather, still not believing he was real—that he was actually talking to him—this man who’d taught him how to string a bow and skin a deer. His thoughts wandered to the times he’d spent listening to tales of his grandfather’s many adventures, the places he’d traveled to, the—

  “Are you ready to begin?” Tyrrideon asked, causing Braxton to jump.

  Brax nodded, despite his nervousness.

  The unicorn stepped closer. The flames of the campfire glowed at her approach, outlining her face. Then she appeared right inside his mind, filling his vision and blocking out all other thoughts. He reacted instinctively, pushing away with his will, trying to get her out of his consciousness. But she occupied his entire awareness, a distinctive impression he could more than see—he could feel throughout his body, as if she were standing completely inside of him. He shook involuntarily, unnerved by the experience, and tried to dispel the intrusion.

  The image vanished.

  Beloved child, came the clearest and most beautiful voice Braxton had ever heard. The unicorn stood motionless on the other side of the fire, her dark eyes focused on him. It was she who was speaking, he realized, communicating directly within his mind.

  You must allow me to enter freely. I will not invade your thoughts or create this joining unwelcomed. However, without this connection, I cannot allow you to use the blade that is my extension.

  “It’s all right, Brax,” his grandfather said. “She won’t harm you, but if you do not wish it, say so now. She’ll withdraw, and we’ll go no further.”

  “No.” He took a step forward. “I want to learn to use the Unicorn Blade. I need to.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect any of this.” Taking a breath, he tried to steady himself and stop from shaking. The entire experience had been extremely unsettling. He waited a moment before closing his eyes and focusing. “I’m ready to try again.”

  Serene’s face reappeared in his mind, but this time, he resisted his natural reaction to push her away. He allowed her to move deeper and deeper into his thoughts, opening to her presence, willing to trust in this creature. A rush of warmth filled him, making him feel strangely uplifted, as if he had the courage to take on the whole world and knew he’d win. The bruises and aches from sparring with Ruskin vanished. He felt bigger and stronger, like he’d actually grown. All thoughts and sorrow at losing his mom faded, and a feeling of absolute joy flowed through him. It was unlike anything he could have imagined, and he wanted it to stay with him forever.

  They started slowly then, random thoughts and memories crossing his mind. He saw himself as a small boy playing in the kitchen, his mom cooking nearby, and with his boyhood friends, running in the fields. He remembered wrestling with Penton, learning to spar with swords, and then with his dad, practicing with his bow. The images flashed through him, each one going by a little faster than the one before, each causing an emotional reaction he sensed was being watched. He relived the attack of the Mins, seeing the face that was bent on killing him and feeling the fear it invoked. His mom appeared, lying on her makeshift bed in their little cottage, and his dad’s lined face, sorrow expressed in his eyes.

  An uncontrollable sadness erupted inside him, and Brax burst out crying. He regained control of his emotions, and the visions continued. He saw the Mins again, and an intense desire for revenge burned through him like an unstoppable flame. Instantly the images stopped, and his mind went completely blank. For a long time he floated, weightless, lost on an endless black sea, devoid of all sound, sight, and emotion, until warmth returned to him, slowly at first, but building steadily. He could see Serene’s brilliance blocking out the void, and light entered his mind.

  He stood in the fields outside Oak Haven with Phinlera next to him, holding his hand and smiling up at him. Looking at her, he felt a joy he never knew possible and laughed out loud—a rich and wondrous sound. He clung to that vision, admiring her face, seeing the way her hair was pushed behind one ear, the light catching its highlights. Her beauty. He loved Phinlera completely in that moment and felt those same feelings reflected
back from her. Giving himself over to it completely, unequivocally, he wanted it to continue and never end.

  Gradually, the vision began to fade, and Brax grasped at it within his mind, trying to solidify the image that was disappearing like water through his hands. When it vanished, he stood there feeling small and alone. He kept his eyes closed for several minutes, battling with his emotions, until painfully, he looked up.

  Ruskin, Gavin, and Bear were still asleep. Grandpa Ty and Serene stood on the far side of the camp. The fire had been refueled somehow and burned brightly now. Braxton, however, felt cold. With the warmth of the connection to Serene gone, he felt frail and incomplete, as though the larger and better part of himself had somehow been removed. Rubbing his arms, he shivered, then looked at his grandfather, who smiled broadly.

  “Congratulations, my lad,” he said. “You passed.”

  Chapter 6

  The sun was rising when Braxton awoke. He looked around the clearing expectantly but saw no sign of his grandfather or Serene. The fire had died out, and Gavin, Ruskin, and Bear remained asleep, the dwarf’s snoring breaking the quiet of a new day. Brax lay in his bedroll wondering if he’d dreamed the whole experience of the night before, until he sensed Serene’s presence within him. He recognized her immediately, watching his thoughts and actions, feeling his emotional response. Reaching out slowly, awkwardly, he connected with her, and that same euphoric sensation washed over him, bringing with it the warmth from before. She didn’t say anything, and he chose not to ask any questions, understanding now the depth of their connection. He reveled in that joining, realizing for the first time since leaving home that he was no longer alone on this journey.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  He got up and bathed in the stream. The cool water made him feel alive, filled with a new sense of purpose. The spring air smelled fresh with a light sweetness from the budding wildflowers growing along the banks. It invigorated his lungs, like smelling air for the first time after being locked away in some dusty cellar. He looked out across the fields. The grass was a vibrant green, and the few trees there stood like giant sentinels among the emerald sea, their branches uplifted in praise to the brilliant sapphire sky. Everything seemed clearer. Colors were intensified, and the experience itself was almost tangible, as if he could drink it in, quenching an unknown thirst.

  Returning to the camp, he found Gavin and Ruskin preparing a warm breakfast. The aroma of sausages, tomatoes, and mushrooms enticed his senses. Bear trotted over to him and licked his hand, and Brax scratched

  the elkhound’s fur. His companions seemed well-rested and even cheer-ful after the seemingly uneventful night, completely unaware of Brax’s experience.

  “With any luck, we should reach Falderon tomorrow,” Ruskin said as they broke camp and set out toward the Vales.

  “Promises to be a good day.” Gavin looked up at the sky, his dark mood noticeably improved.

  The morning passed much like the one before, with Brax and Ruskin riding together, next to Gavin, and Bear running alongside them, moving steadily east. They stopped briefly for a quick lunch before setting out again in the early afternoon. The sun was dropping when they dismounted and approached a stand of wild oaks tunneling the road.

  Draw my sword, child.

  Braxton jumped at the unexpected sound of Serene’s voice in his mind as he walked Obsidian, causing the stallion to jolt his head and pull the reins free. Brax patted the big horse’s neck. Bear growled a low guttural sound, stopping a few paces ahead of them. The hair on the back of his neck was standing upright and his head was bent low, pointed toward the oaks. Ruskin, however, continued walking.

  “Rusk!” Braxton called out, drawing the Unicorn Blade from across his back.

  The dwarf stopped and glanced briefly over his shoulder. Gavin, sitting atop Cinnamon and accustomed to Bear’s signs, already had an arrow notched in his bow.

  A dozen ragged looking men emerged from the woods, armed with an assortment of weapons. Dressed in tattered clothing, they looked as if they hadn’t bathed in months, if at all.

  “Damn dog, we would’ve surprised you lot if your mangy mutt hadn’t smelled us out,” the rogue closest to them said, spitting on the ground. He was a thin, ugly man of about Braxton’s height, in his midthirties, with greasy black hair matted down on one side. A large sore on his cheek looked infected and oozed into the stubble on his chin. Obviously the leader of the gang, the other men crowded around him, leering and chuckling greedily.

  Ruskin rolled his shoulders. “Good.” He tapped Fist in his hand. “I’ve been needing a bit of exercise. I’m looking forward to this.”

  The leader’s smirk dropped from his face, and the rest of the band became uneasy.

  “You won’t be so confident when I run this through ya,” the man retorted, brandishing his sword. His men, gathering courage from their leader, moved closer.

  Brax ran up to Ruskin’s side. The dwarf glanced at him doubtfully but looked back at the brigands before they registered his concern.

  “Get ’em, men!” the ugly bandit shouted, lurching forward. Ruskin casually stepped aside, raised his hammer to parry the leader’s attack, and then swung underhand to hit another man in the groin, dropping him like a heavy sack.

  Chaos erupted as the other bandits rushed in, two of them going for Braxton. Serene reacted immediately, her energy surging through him and forcing him left. In a single movement, he blocked a downward strike from a tall man, then swung his magical weapon against the full force of the other foe’s sweeping strike, splitting his staff in two. Continuing around in a circle, he ended with the edge of the sword against his original opponent’s neck, barely cutting into him. It all happened so quickly that Braxton was almost as surprised as his two adversaries, but he recovered his composure before the men recognized what had happened, and smiled a warning at the taller man. The brigand dropped his sword and hastily backed away.

  Braxton, however, felt nauseous from the sudden rush of energy. He knew he couldn’t rely on Serene to help protect him again and that he’d have to learn to fight on his own. Taking a breath to calm his stomach, he sliced through the air, feeling how light and nimble the Unicorn Blade felt now—not heavy and cumbersome like the night before.

  He looked about. The bandit leader and two of his unfortunate thugs were collapsed in front of Ruskin. The dwarf had his powerful left arm wrapped around the neck of a fourth man, who, despite being slightly taller than Ruskin, was being dragged around, flailing wildly in equal attempts to cut Ruskin with a dagger and breathe. The dwarf didn’t even seem to notice, and just looked around for another victim. Two other bandits lay dead, pierced by Gavin’s arrows. Bear stood prone over one gang member, shaking the man’s forearm, the dagger he’d held long since discarded. The thug’s other hand covered a nasty gash on his face that was bleeding profusely. The remaining few brigands, surprised by the state of their group, backed away.

  Ruskin went after them, the bandit at his side now completely purple in the face.

  “Rusk, let them go,” Brax called out.

  The dwarf stopped, seemed to think about it for a moment, and then, realizing he still held the unfortunate man under his arm, gave a sudden squeeze. A sickening crack echoed across the road before Ruskin released his victim, who fell limply to the ground. The retreating men stared wide-eyed, dropped their weapons and surrendered.

  It was late by the time the bandits, under the watchful eyes of the dwarf, had finished burying their dead. Brax felt sick at seeing the bodies, unaccustomed to so much death. When the men finished, Ruskin tied them into a sitting position against one of the oaks lining the road, their legs bound and their mouths gagged.

  They spent the night in the brigands’ camp, which they found hidden among the trees. By morning, the thieves were hungry and thirsty, and they begged for something to eat. Feeling sorry for them, Braxton and Gavin took turns feeding and watering their captives.

  “We’ll send a patrol for
ya once we reach Falderon,” Ruskin said as he checked their bindings and replaced their gags. “If you’re still alive in a couple of days, you can look forward to a lifetime in the Empire’s dungeons. Assuming, of course, the wolves don’t get ya first.” He grinned, picked up his pack and swung it over his shoulder, then started off down the road.

  Brax and Gavin glanced at each other, trying to decide if leaving the men tied up was the right thing to do. After a moment Gavin sighed, mounted Cinnamon, and headed off after the dwarf, Bear following behind him.

  Braxton thought about the bandits’ predicament, and whether to ungag them or at least leave them something to eat or drink. But he couldn’t figure out how to let the men feed themselves without also untying them, which would undoubtedly lead to raiding farms or harassing travelers. Eventually he felt he had no choice but to keep them tied up.

  “I’m sorry for the life you’ve chosen,” he said, taking up Obsidian’s reins and following after his companions. He could feel the eyes of the men boring into him and heard their muffled calls. Resisting the temptation to turn around, he hurried to catch up with the others.

  “I thought you might let ’em go,” Ruskin said over his shoulder when Braxton met up with them. “That would’ve been a mistake.”

  “Maybe, but tying them to those trees is as good as sentencing them to death. Wolves are bound to smell them out before long.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. Besides, it’s only a day to Falderon. If they can last through the night, they should be fine.” He paused, waiting for Braxton’s reaction. “Remember, lad, that only by the hardship of life’s lessons will they possibly be forced to seek another way. If we allow them to make a living on travelers and farmers, they’ll never change.”

  “I guess you’re right, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”