Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates

by Jeff J. Peters

  He sat up with a jolt on the stone floor, blinking at the sunlight streaming into the open-sided tent around him. Elven soldiers moved about on the Dragon’s Head. A few stood nearby, talking together in small groups. Someone touched his arm, and he jumped again, remembering the dream. Phinlera was beside him. Her clothes were torn and ragged, and her hair was matted down and pulled to one side. Her normally bright eyes were tired and bloodshot, and he could see the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks. But when she smiled, her radiance was still there. He smiled back despite how exhausted he felt, as if seeing her for the first time, and his heart flushed with excitement.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again!” she said, leaning forward and hugging him tightly. “I thought I’d lost you. They said you might never wake up. But Bendarren told me to wait.”

  “Bendarren?” He looked around for the elven mentor. “Where is he? How’d all these elves get here?”

  “You did it,” she said quietly. “You opened the Gate, Brax.”

  He looked down. “No, I didn’t, Phin. I failed. I tried. I really tried. I just couldn’t do it.” He closed his eyes, ashamed.

  “No.” She lifted his chin with her delicate fingers and forced him to look into her eyes. “You succeeded.”

  “I saw the Gate close.”

  “I know. But what you didn’t see was that someone came through.”

  “What? How is that possible?”

  Phinlera grinned. “Bendarren was watching you from Arbor Loren. The moment you opened the Gate, brief as it was, he sent someone through. She saw you fall, Brax. She reopened the Walking Gate for the elves. That’s her over there.” She pointed to a young elfling girl talking with Laefin.

  “Laefin’s here?” He looked at the elf, momentarily uplifted at seeing their young friend.

  Phin’s smile faded. “Tayloren, Baehrin, and Callorin were the only others who made it through. We lost the rest.” She looked away. “Sotchek survived, of course. If not for him, I don’t think any of us would be here.”

  “Sotchek?” Braxton asked, looking around again. “Where is he? And what about . . . ?” Then he remembered how Kael had died.

  For a while, neither of them spoke.

  “They found him by one of the stone statues,” Phinlera answered his unfinished question, “with the Dark Child, and Jenphinlin. They burned their bodies at dawn.”

  “Burned?”

  “Some elven ritual that’s supposed to help release the spirit.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t very pleasant, so I’d rather not talk about it.

  “Anyway, by late last night, half the elven army had passed through the Gate and down those stone steps into the Dunes. They circled the plateau before they went, saluting you and Kael. It was awe-inspiring.” She gave a weak smile.

  Braxton didn’t respond right away. “It’s my fault Phin,” he said at last, “that Kael died. I lost control of my emotions while fighting the Dark Child, and Kael paid the price. He died because of me, because I was weak.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said sadly, wrapping her arm around him and pulling him close.

  For a long time, they sat quietly together, watching the elves moving about on the Dragon’s Head. Neither spoke. Braxton chewed occasionally on some elven cakes and vegetable bread he found in a bowl next to him, disinterested in the taste. Sipping from a cup of water, he held onto it when he was done.

  “What’s her name?” he asked, wiping his face and looking out.

  “Who?”

  “The girl who came through the Gate, what’s her name?”

  “Oh, it’s Jenterra.”

  Braxton nodded. “Why do all their names begin with Jen?”

  “It’s to honor Jenleah, the first elfling to Arbor Loren,” a familiar voice replied. “They’re all given her name at birth.”

  Laefin stood in the tent’s doorway, smiling as though on a casual walk. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” Braxton said unconvincingly.

  “Bendarren told me what happened with the Dark Child. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to hear it from you.”

  Braxton looked away, unsure if he wanted to recall the memory, feeling guilty for Kael’s death. But then he turned to his friend and nodded. “I owe you as much,” he said quietly.

  Laefin sat next to Phin. The remaining three elves from the patrol joined them as well, seating themselves on the woven rug that had been laid out inside the tent.

  Brax glanced at each of them, sadness reflected in their eyes. He understood the loss they had experienced in the death of Kael and the others during their fight to the Dragon’s Head. He drank from his cup. Then slowly he began retelling the events of his fight and of the Blademaster’s death. It was a painful experience, one that required him to stop often to control his emotions. The others waited patiently, allowing him time to continue.

  When he finished, no one spoke. Phinlera sobbed quietly. Braxton took the red cloth of Balen-Tar from his pocket and handed it to Laefin.

  The elf rubbed it between his fingers, as if touching it somehow brought him closer to what he’d lost. “Thank you,” he said. “You have allowed my father to find peace and to die with honor. That is a gift I will never forget.”

  Braxton nodded, unable to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said after a few minutes, “for not controlling my emotions better, for not being stronger. That your father died because of me.”

  “It’s all right, Brax,” Laefin replied. “I don’t blame you. My father made his own choice.”

  “There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Brax added. “Why didn’t Kael just kill the Dark Child when he had the chance? His skill was clearly superior.”

  “My father hoped to convince him to return to his elven heritage, to come home with us and be cleansed of his negativity. But he knew it was unlikely. I think from your retelling it’s clear that he gave him that choice, as he’d intended, but the Dark Child was unwilling to listen.”

  “Yes, but why didn’t he just kill him? Why’d he have to sacrifice himself like that?”

  “Because, Brax,” Laefin said slowly, “the Dark Child was my brother.”

  Chapter 33

  The sounds outside the tent faded away, sucked into a void as Laefin spoke.

  The Dark Child was Kael’s son.

  It was inconceivable. But then slowly, somehow, in the back of Braxton’s mind, it all began to make sense. He could see now how their paths had been linked together, joined in some intricately detailed web.

  “My father knew he could never kill my brother,” Laefin explained. “But he also knew he couldn’t let him live. You, Brax, helped him solve his dilemma and regain his honor. For that I will always be indebted to you.”

  The young elf stood up, smiled weakly, then turned and walked away, taking the cloth of Balen-Tar with him.

  The remaining elves departed quietly as well, leaving Braxton and Phinlera alone. They sat talking together for a long time, imagining what Kael must have experienced at losing his son at birth, knowing he was the Dark Child, and then having to face him again as a grown man, only to watch him die. It was a fate, they thought, that no father should have to endure.

  They left the tent an hour later, hoping to find solace in the company of the elves who remained, or at least find out if their armies had engaged the Mins. But the elves on the plateau were soldiers who moved about purposefully or stood guarding their posts, understanding that war had come to their forest. They refused Brax and Phin’s questions, politely thanking them for their service and asking after their well-being, but ignoring their more direct requests.

  Frustrated, Brax and Phinlera stood at the southern cliff’s edge, staring across the Breaker Dunes, watching the twin peaks of Ben-Gar looming out ahead of them. As the sun dipped west, they wondered if the Mins had reached Arbor Loren and whether the forest could withstand the tide of destruction they’d unleash. Had their plan to bring the elven army in behind the Min line swung the balance in their favo
r? Had others come to help? So many questions remained unanswered, and Braxton had to know.

  They looked around for Laefin or any of the others from their original company but found no one they recognized. They’d almost given up when Phin noticed Jenterra cooking by a small fire in the shadow of one of the giant stone pillars across the clearing.

  “Perhaps she can help.”

  The elfling girl was small, like the others of her race, barely reaching Brax’s shoulder. Like my mom, he thought, but with short brown hair and vibrant green eyes. She bowed deeply when Phin introduced him and thanked Brax for his service to her people, and for the sacrifice she seemed to understand he’d made. She asked much about his health and how he felt inside, although she always seemed to look past his responses, seeing his words as nothing more than a screen to the truth hidden within. He let her probe his body with her energy, understanding her desire to provide some recompense for the service she seemed to think he’d provided, some assurance that no remnant of the evil remained from his encounter with the Dark Child.

  It was when she touched his emotional resolve, however, that Braxton thought she’d gone too far. He clamped down on her tendril of spirit magic, holding it firmly in the grip of his own energy. He was surprised at the strength he felt in that touch, even more so than with Jenphinlin, and wondered if he could hold back her power should she choose to resist. But she seemed to understand his reaction and calmly withdrew her invisible connection, detaching from him completely. She inclined her head, acknowledging the extent to which he’d allowed her to go.

  Laefin joined them, returning from the southern end of the camp. He grinned as usual when he arrived.

  “Can you walk with me?” he asked. “I have much to tell you.”

  They left the little plateau together, walking back up into the village, carrying with them some honey cakes and a waterskin Jenterra insisted they take. They wandered across the clearing where Braxton had seen Phin and Kael charge into the elite Mins, but which now served as a base camp for the elves remaining in the mountains. Crossing the threshold of the Dragon’s Head, they went out onto the cobblestone road. Braxton felt an unexpected sense of relief at finally being able to let go of the experiences he’d endured. Leaving the place where Kael died somehow made it easier to accept, and he exhaled fully. Phinlera seemed to understand his emotions and put her arm around him. Laefin recognized it too and began humming to himself.

  The road through the mountain was different now from what Brax remembered. There were no Mins to watch out for around every bend, no one to fight or to hide from, and the kneeling statues that lined their path seemed polished and whole again, bathed in a beautiful golden light from the setting sun.

  “I visited our encampment in the Dunes today, and our armies have taken Ben-Gar,” Laefin said proudly. “They marched through the night and moved across the Dunes with great speed. At dawn, they assaulted the rear guard of our enemy and pushed them back all the way to their encampment in the twin peaks. For most of the day, we fought at their base camp, and a few hours ago, our forces finally broke through.” He ate a honey cake Phinlera handed him and washed it down with some water. Seeing Braxton and Phinlera’s blank stares, he continued, “This is good news. The Mins were not expecting a rear assault, and all of their attention was focused to the west, so their main camp was lightly guarded. Now that we have taken hold of it, our soldiers can use it to launch further attacks against the rear of our army—which, I regret to report, reached Arbor Loren yesterday.” Laefin’s smile faded. “We still don’t yet know how long the great forest can stand against the more than ten thousand that now march on my homeland. But our taking of Ben-Gar is a small victory among this otherwise dark storm.

  “We’ll know more tomorrow. Our few thousand home guard seem to be stopping the first waves of Mins breaking upon Arbor Loren, and the feil is holding for now. If our luck continues, our soldiers moving from the twin peaks should engage the rear of their force, slowing the Min advance on our forest and allowing us to battle them on two fronts. This should buy us much-needed time until help arrives. I only hope it will reach us before our need is too great.”

  * * *

  The following day, Braxton woke to the sound of Serene’s voice calling to him.

  Awaken, child. It was the first time she’d spoken to him since opening the Walking Gate. Find the gifted archer.

  Braxton dressed quickly. He nudged Phinlera in the bedroll beside him as he pulled on his boots.

  “Phin,” he called. “Time to go.”

  She woke and jumped to her feet as if in anticipation of some new adventure they’d been planning for weeks.

  Braxton smiled at her enthusiasm. She tied her hair back and pulled on her cloak, then grabbed Shelindûhin and strapped it to her side.

  “What?” she asked, seeing him stare.

  “Nothing.” He looked away and picked up the Unicorn Blade. “Serene wants us to find Laefin.”

  They left the little tent they’d shared near the center of the grassy clearing in the village of the Dragon’s Head, passing by the elven shelters that seemed to blend in naturally with the landscape. Following the familiar path to the plateau, they arrived just as dawn broke from the east and cast its light across the ancient sanctuary.

  Laefin stood near the stairs leading down to the Breaker Dunes.

  “Morning,” Brax said, as they approached.

  “Hello.” The archer looked worried.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Bendarren is considering awakening the trees to fight.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Phin asked.

  Laefin nodded. “Yes, but no one has awoken the forest in many centuries, and it is a great shame upon my people that we should need to awaken those whom we dedicate our lives to protect.”

  “Isn’t it better to awaken the trees than to let them die?”

  “Indeed it is. But it saddens my heart that we would need the forest to help us in this fight—that we’ve failed to keep her safe.”

  Tell him, that the mountain moves its feet and that purple banners ride from the west.

  Brax relayed the message. Laefin seemed to understand and became excited by the news.

  The feil will not last, Serene continued. The one you call Bendarren is wise to have the child race awaken the trees. Tell him the arrow that will pierce the breast of your enemy will come from the south. But if it should arrive too late, he should sound the Horn of the White Wood.

  Brax repeated her words.

  “She must mean the knights of the Empire will come around the southern tip of Arbor Loren,” Phinlera said excitedly, “and crush our enemy!”

  Laefin, however, looked stunned.

  “What is it?” Brax asked.

  “The White Horn has not been heard in the memory of my people. I . . . don’t know if this can be done.”

  Bendarren will remember. For he was there when the trees found their home.

  Laefin nodded in silent understanding. “I will report immediately and return as soon as I can. Thank you, Braxton.” He bowed, turned, and walked quickly to the Gate.

  They watched him speak with Jenterra. The elfling girl looked back at Braxton, fear reflected in her normally calm face. Then she guided Laefin up onto the platform and opened the Walking Gate just long enough for him to pass through.

  * * *

  For the remainder of the morning, they wandered around the quiet Dragon’s Head, talking about what Serene had said. They ate a late breakfast with Jenterra and a few of the elven soldiers stationed at the camp who left to pursue their duties, leaving Brax and Phin alone with Jenterra.

  “Who are the child race?” Braxton asked her.

  “They are the elfling people, of which I am one,” she said. “The ‘child race’ was the name given to us by the Elhunarie of old, when they walked among us. But unlike the rest of the elves, who, as I think you know, grow to be in their midthirties by human standards before ceasing to age
, the elflings are fully grown in what you’d consider their teenage years. I myself have lived in Arbor Loren for almost nine centuries.” She smiled at their surprised faces.

  “What about my mom? She was much older.”

  “That took a lot of work from Bendarren before she left. But inside, your mom is the same as what you see in me—and the others of my people. Only when she returned to the tree from which she came, like we all do in time, did she revert back to her true and natural self.”

  Braxton looked skeptical but didn’t say anything.

  “Are you the ones who can awaken the trees?” Phinlera asked cautiously.

  “We are,” Jenterra replied, smiling at Phin’s tact. “We’re Arbor Weavers or Tree Singers, as some call us. Although primarily responsible for healing the forest with our song, we also have the gift to rouse the woods from their eternal sleep, awakening them in times of great need, that they may move or even fight for our world.”

  “What’s the White Horn?” Brax asked.

  “Something that has not been heard in almost five thousand years,” Jenterra said sadly. “Not since before the coming of humans to this world. It is an ill omen, I fear, that we would need to awaken the spirit of the forest in order to protect our homeland.”

  “If it means saving Arbor Loren, why wouldn’t you call upon all the help you can?” Phinlera interjected.

  “Because I worry that waking the Fey of the woods will change Andorah forever. It is an ancient magic that holds life within those great boughs, a spirit force that has not moved upon this earth since the making of the world. All the trees—not only those in Arbor Loren—are connected to its source, and awakening that energy could have a profound impact on nature’s balance. It is an enormous power.”

  “Is it connected to the oaks of Fey Ethel?” Brax continued, eager to know more.

  “Yes.” Jenterra said. “The Silver Towers are the physical embodiment of the Fey within Arbor Loren. It is the source of the feil that protects our woodland realm, the heart of the elven kingdom, and the home of the White Horn itself. But if Fey Ethel is ever destroyed, Braxton, then the elven people will begin to age and will ultimately diminish and pass from this world. The Silver Towers are therefore both our greatest strength and our biggest weakness.”