Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates

by Jeff J. Peters

  Brax shrugged and took a quick drink, tipping his head back to hide his emotions.

  “I know you miss her,” Pen continued. “I do too. But, in a way, I think she’s happier now. And we can still talk with her and feel her presence. If I close my eyes when I sit under her tree, I can almost feel her right beside me.”

  “I know,” Brax said weakly.

  “Tell ’em about the patrol,” Ruskin interjected.

  “You should’ve seen it.” Pen laughed. “We threw that little pouch of Rusk’s into the fire, and seconds later it exploded across the entire camp.”

  “Yes, we saw.” Brax grinned, remembering the scene.

  “How could we miss it?” Phinlera added.

  “But what you didn’t see was how the colors in that bonfire changed to the most amazing iridescent blues and purples, or how the exploding red-hot timbers ignited the tents and spread like wildfire across the camp, as if they were alive. It was incredible!”

  “It was pretty amazing,” Gavin agreed.

  “I meant tell ’em about the patrol’s leader,” Ruskin clarified.

  Pen nodded. “After hours of having his men chase down horses, the patrol’s captain—Breem, you’ll remember—rounded us all up and interrogated everyone personally. He was furious. He wanted to know where we were, what we saw, and if anyone had come in or out of the camp. His eyes bulged so much when he spoke, I thought they were going to pop out and roll across the table.”

  “Your friend Zacharias didn’t like us much either,” Gavin added.

  Braxton looked up, his smile fading.

  “He sat in on all the questioning and told the captain we were lying. I think if he didn’t hate Zacharias so much, Breem would’ve had us whipped right there and then. Anyway, the soldiers tore through our bags and food crates as if they’d gone mad, looking for something to implicate us, but they never found anything. And the guard we bribed was nowhere to be seen.”

  “Good thing too,” Gavin said. “Otherwise we’d probably both be dead by now, or at least in chains.”

  Pen continued. “The next day, everyone was checked every hour, and the guards moved among us so frequently that it felt like we were being herded like cattle. One even rode in our wagon for a while. And we had to sleep with the soldiers too. It took us twice as long to get down to Montressa. Poor Cassi was so scared, I thought she was going to turn us in.” He laughed.

  “What happened to her?” Phinlera asked.

  “We eventually got her home safely. She lives in one of those small rooms in the public housing on the south end of town. When we explained to her mom what had happened, she was so grateful to us for bringing Cassi home that she wanted to give us everything they owned—which wasn’t much. Anyway, if we ever go back there, we have a place to stay. It’d be nice to see them again.”

  Brax was only half listening. “I hope letting Zacharias go doesn’t prove to be a mistake,” he said turning to Phinlera, who nodded. He told the others of their last encounter with Zacharias and meeting Sotchek.

  “I told ya we should’ve just taken his head and been done with him,” Ruskin commented.

  “It was kind of you to let him live,” Pen added. “I just hope you don’t regret it.”

  “Me too,” Brax said, looking worried.

  They continued talking into the next morning, laughing occasionally as they retold their respective stories, catching everyone up since separating in the Vales. It was late again before Brax finally got to sleep, and he was still tired and stiff when Serene awoke him at dawn.

  Time to go, child.

  He rose and dressed. Although drowsy and sore, he was excited to see Kael and to continue his training. He thought about how much the elf had taught him already in such a short time. And today would be extra rewarding. Having the opportunity to practice his swordplay with a Blademaster was indeed an honor, and one he could never have imagined. Growing up in Oak Haven, he’d always heard tales of the legendary elves and their renowned skill with both sword and bow. He’d often pretended to be one of them, play fighting with Pen, using broom handles as weapons. He’d never dreamed he’d get a chance to practice with one of them. Now he was going to test his skills with their best, and he couldn’t wait.

  Grabbing the Unicorn Blade, he hurried down the steps of the giant oak, but even before he reached the great room, he knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the lack of Ruskin’s familiar snoring, or the absence of elf song. Mostly, though, it was just a feeling, a distinct impression that something had changed.

  “What’s going on?” he asked when he entered. Ruskin was fully dressed, talking with Bendarren by the table, a green traveling cloak pulled around his shoulders and the falchion tucked under his belt

  “It’s the Mins, Brax,” Bendarren said calmly. “They’re on the move.”

  “Yeah,” Ruskin added. “And they’re coming this way. All of them.”

  Braxton looked at Bendarren. “What’re you going to do?”

  “There’s a Walking Gate in a small village in the mountains at the base of the Dragon’s Head,” the elf explained. “A very old Gate, one of the first ever made. It has long since been forgotten by most people, lost from memory and knowledge of such things, but it is there nonetheless. There was a council this morning, and it has been decided that a small patrol will travel to the Gate and try to open it. If we can reach it in time, we may be able to send in an army behind the Min line.”

  “I’m going with ’em,” Ruskin said. “At least as far as the Dragon’s Spine anyway. I need to convince King Tharak to send down a regiment to help. Not an easy task, I might add.”

  Braxton felt a sudden loss at the idea of parting with the dwarf. They’d been through so much together and traveled so far, and he owed his life to Rusk. He wasn’t prepared to say goodbye. Not yet.

  “The rest of the elven army is marching to our eastern border,” Bendarren continued. “War, it seems, has finally come to the forest.”

  “What can I do to help?” Brax asked.

  Ruskin exhaled audibly.

  “The council is sending one of our elfling people with the patrol,” Bendarren said. “And, like your mom, this is the first time she has left Arbor Loren, and only the fourth time in our history that one of them will leave us. We’ll all feel her go. But she is strong with spirit magic, and it is our sincerest hope that, should the patrol make it to the Dragon’s Head, she’ll be able to open the Walking Gate and let our forces in behind the Min army. Her name is Jenphinlin.”

  “Can she open the Gate by herself? I thought it took eight people.”

  “The elfling race is especially gifted with spirit magic. Any one of them can open a Walking Gate. That is the reason your mother never joined your Keepers. She would have been able to open your Gate by herself.”

  Brax finally understood now why his mom had always refused to take the trials. “Wait, why are you telling me this?” he asked.

  “Because, Brax, we believe you need to accompany her.”

  “What?” He was shocked at what Bendarren was asking. “You want me to travel behind the Min line?”

  Bendarren nodded slowly. “I think this path is chosen for you.”

  Yes, child, we must go, Serene interjected. Brax felt a wave of panic wash over him. He couldn’t believe she was agreeing with the elf and that they wanted him to travel into the heart of the Min army. His mind filled with the memory of the attack on Oak Haven.

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I want to help. I really do. But I can’t go to war. I got my mom’s essence safely to her tree and need to stay here with her, and then see Phinlera home. I can’t possibly go.”

  Ruskin made a hmph sound. “How long do you think your mother will survive if the Mins burn down the forest?”

  Braxton looked at the dwarf, surprised.

  Bendarren placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you not understand, Brax,” he said kindly, “that your mother’s fate is now bound to Arbor Loren?”

>   Braxton’s stomach turned as he realized that the elf was right. His mother’s life lay in the balance of the outcome of this war. If the Mins succeeded, she would die.

  “You want me to go to war,” he repeated.

  That is why I have chosen you, Serene clarified.

  But I need to stay here and protect my mom, he argued.

  You can remain if you wish and wait for war to come to the forest. For come it will. But if you do, my beloved child, it will be too late, and the sword that is my extension will need to pass to another.

  You’d leave me? he asked incredulously.

  That is the choice before you.

  Braxton thought about what it would mean to lose his connection with Serene and her beautiful, magical energy. It had become such a part of him now that he wasn’t sure he could live without it. But traveling with the elves meant facing the Mins, something he feared more than anything. Even more than losing his mom, or Serene. Could he maintain control of his emotions, of his fear, if confronted by those who’d assaulted his village and his family?

  I’m not sure I can do this, he said. Besides, I’m only just learning how to fight properly. I can’t possibly stand up to a Min!

  He is going with you.

  Who, Ruskin?

  The one who is training you.

  “Kael is going?” He looked up at Bendarren.

  “That is correct. He is leading the patrol.”

  Tell them we will go.

  I’m . . . afraid, Serene, he admitted.

  I know, child. She paused a moment. But this is needed.

  Braxton took a deep breath. “All right,” he said at last. “We’ll go.”

  Bendarren smiled, as if he’d known Brax would come to this conclusion. “I have brought you these.” He walked over to a small pile of supplies near the table. “The cloaks will allow you to pass unseen, and the boots unheard. Neither will leave any sign of your passage. The packs will store whatever you put in them and still have room for more. These waterskins never empty, and the food I’ve supplied should last throughout your journey.”

  “Thanks,” Brax said simply, still stunned at what he’d been asked to do.

  “What about the pipe leaf?” Ruskin commented.

  Bendarren glanced at the dwarf but ignored him and turned to Brax. “The others are waking. They will join us shortly. Gather your possessions and eat quickly. The patrol is readying to leave.”

  * * *

  When Braxton rejoined them in the main room of the guest oak, he saw that Phinlera, like Ruskin, was dressed in the boots and cloak Bendarren had provided.

  “I’m going with you,” she said firmly. “Don’t try to argue.”

  He was about to respond but thought better of it. He knew he’d never convince her to stay.

  Gavin and Penton were there too, but unlike the others, wore only their normal traveling clothes. They had packs similar to his, which Braxton found always weighed the same, no matter how much he stuffed inside it.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  Pen shook his head. “Gav and I are going back to Amberdeen with an elven emissary to request aid from King Balan. The elves are hoping he’ll send some horsemen.”

  “So much for needed rest.” Gavin smiled wryly.

  “You’ll be a good diplomat for them, Pen,” Brax said. “But I still wish you were coming with us.”

  “Me too, but I think having us with them might help the elves’ chances of the Empire getting involved. Gav’s still part of the militia if you remember, and my years of bartering in Amberdeen might come in handy.” He grinned.

  Brax forced a smile. He knew the road ahead was going to be difficult, more than anything he’d faced before, and wished for his brother’s strength of company.

  Go to the table, Serene entered his thoughts.

  He walked over to the large wooden structure and sat down in front of some parchment that had been laid out.

  Take the quill.

  Dipping the end into a nearby ink bottle, Brax felt Serene close his eyes and draw something on the parchment. After a moment, he rolled it up. When she released him, he looked at the others.

  Bendarren handed him a small scroll tube made of a dark wood carved with an oak tree. Brax slid the parchment inside the tube and secured its top.

  Tell your brother to give it to Iban and no other. He is one of our Chosen in your king’s city. Tell him to request a Council of Sorrows.

  Braxton wasn’t sure what she meant but repeated the message, excited to learn the name of one of the King’s Squires.

  “Yes,” Bendarren said quickly. “Iban must be a Wielder.”

  “A Wielder?” Penton asked. “How would Brax know the name of a Wielder? I thought they were kept secret.”

  Braxton realized that Penton still didn’t know about Serene.

  “Never mind that now,” Bendarren replied. “If Iban is one of the Chosen, you can ask to speak with him directly. There is a very old custom, one that has been deliberately forgotten by the magistrates of your great city. Any citizen is allowed to ask for help from a Wielder. By requesting a Council of Sorrows, you invoke that right, and the governing council is required to oblige. To ignore this is an affront to the Elhunarie of old and a direct insult to the Wielders themselves. No citizen can be denied.”

  “Give him this.” Brax handed Penton the scroll. “It will help make your case.”

  Penton looked at him curiously, but he tucked the tube under his belt and tied the leather strap.

  “Now,” Bendarren said, looking around at each of them. “The time has come for you to leave Arbor Loren. The elven patrol and our emissaries are waiting.”

  Chapter 26

  As Braxton and the others left the guest oak, they found Kael and a dozen elven warriors outside. Each wore a forest cloak similar to the guards they’d seen at the entrance to Almon-Sen, with bows strapped to their backs and thin swords by their sides. A young elven girl whom Braxton guessed to be around Phinlera’s age, with long blond hair and a gentle face, stood beside Kael.

  “Allow me to introduce Jenphinlin,” the Blademaster said, inclining his head toward the smaller girl. The elven warriors followed his lead.

  “Hello.” She smiled at each of them.

  It is an honor to walk with a Chosen, she added inside Brax’s mind, and he sensed the spirit magic in her connection.

  The honor is mine, he replied awkwardly, touching her thoughts. He was amazed at the strength in that touch, as if she had complete control of her emotions and, more importantly, of the energy within them. For a single moment, the spirit magic seemed to emanate from every part of her being. Then it was gone.

  Kael introduced the rest of the elves who’d be accompanying them to the Dragon’s Head, taking time for each man, explaining his special talents or abilities—tracking, hunting, swordsmanship, or some other extraordinary skill. All were accomplished bowmen. As the elves greeted them, it was clear that the Blademaster knew his companions well and had handpicked the members of their party.

  “And this—” Kael stopped at the youngest in their group, a boy who appeared slightly older than Brax, with ash-blond hair and almond-shaped eyes. “This is my son, Laefin. He is, without a doubt, the finest archer in all of Arbor Loren.” The others nodded their agreement.

  “I’ve never seen him miss,” the Blademaster said. “In fact, I’m not sure he knows how to.” He smiled proudly.

  The young archer looked down shyly, touched a hand to his heart, and bowed, but unlike the others, said nothing.

  When they were done, Jenphinlin walked over to Phinlera and pulled a small sword from under her cloak.

  “This is Shelindûhin, ‘leaf of the forest.’” She rested the weapon across her upturned palms, looking up at Phin. “It was made for an elf maiden long ago, when the world was still young. I gift her to you now, that you may stand beside your Chosen.”

  For the first time in his life, Braxton saw Phinlera speechless. Having grown up in a
poor family, with very little to call her own, no one had ever given her much consideration. Now she was being honored with an amazing gift by someone she’d only just met.

  “Thank you,” she said, brushing a long strand of hair behind her ear before accepting the weapon, a little embarrassed by the sudden attention.

  “I do not agree with her joining us,” Kael interjected, turning to Jenphinlin. “Phinlera is young, of little fighting experience, and would be safer in the forest. I cannot assure her safety.”

  “I understand.” The elfling glanced at the Blademaster. “I assume responsibility for her fate, that you may be free of that burden.”

  Kael nodded, but remained silent. Brax was surprised that the Blademaster deferred to Jenphinlin, who obviously held a high level of authority.

  The sword, Brax noticed, was of incredible craftsmanship. Shorter than most and completely straight, the blade had a slightly curved tip and an intricately inscribed vine that meandered down and around both sides. The long, oak handle could be wielded equally well in either one or both hands. It was the hilt, however, that was the focal point. Made from some unknown metal, it formed a series of overlapping dark green leaves that fanned out around the grip, protecting its wielder’s hands. As Phinlera touched Shelindûhin, the leaves shone with an inner glow, and Braxton felt the energy emanating from the weapon.

  That is a blessed gift, Serene said, and Jenphinlin smiled in response. It took Brax a moment to realize that the young girl had heard his master.

  “The time has come,” Bendarren interrupted, causing Braxton to jump. “Each of you must follow a new path. One we hope will bring a quick end to this war. May the blessings of the Elhunarie of old, Arbor Loren, and all our people go with you.” He touched both hands to his heart, up to his forehead, and out.

  * * *

  It was still early morning when they parted company. Braxton, Phinlera, and Ruskin followed behind Kael, Jenphinlin, and the elven patrol while Penton, Gavin, and Bear left with Bendarren to find the elven emissary. Brax hugged his brother for a long time before separating. Neither spoke. They just looked at each other and grinned sadly, understanding the silent, bitter sorrow of unspoken words when brothers part.