“You’re taking this well, considering I just dropped a bomb on your plans.” Wendell watched closely for a reaction as he passed the High Elder in the doorway of the Key.
The High Elder was silent, waiting until they were climbing the stairs to answer. “I have done what my duty demands of me. That is enough.”
Listening to the High Elder scuffle up the steps, Wendell had time to consider his situation. What now? I’m stuck on an alien planet for a month. Are they going to hide me in this dungeon? I wonder where the girls are. I wonder if they come in an assortment of colors. …I do have this huge diamond in my chest. And it’s supposed to give me magic powers! Wendell was bouncing his head while raising an eyebrow and biting his bottom lip. Can I fly? I really want to fly.
NO.
“What?” Wendell asked the High Elder.
He stopped and turned, “Yes?”
“Uh…”
The High Elder waited.
“Uh…never mind,” Wendell quickly amended. Weird.
Maybe I can shoot lasers from my eyes. Or run at super speed?
NO.
Wendell stared at the back of the High Elder’s head, perplexed.
Well…can I…?
NO.
“Why not?”
Now the High Elder turned around, “Why not, what?”
“Why can’t I do anything with this gem? Aren’t I supposed to have magical powers or something?”
Nodding, the High Elder assured him, “Indeed, you are. Your blood combined with the gem can make you the most powerful of all Mägo.”
“Mägo?”
WIZARD.
“Wizard,” said the elder in unison.
Wendell flinched, looking behind him and then above. He stood there for several moments, staring at the High Elder.
“Yes?”
Flustered he asked, “S-so you mean I can actually do magic?”
OH, YES.
The High Elder’s lips never moved! Wendell’s mouth swung open. He yanked the collar of his shirt forward to stare at the Ithäri. A tiny light winked at him.
“Yes, she can,” said the Elder softly.
Wendell looked up, even more confused. “What?”
“Ithäri. You are wondering if she can talk to you. Yes, she can and she will, when you need her. As for the magic, you will quickly learn there are many disciplines and you are one of the very few who can master them all.”
Ok, now this is weird…The gem actually had a consciousness and it could communicate with him…and cool. Wait. Wait. I can do magic…like REAL magic!??
“How much time would it take for me to learn?” he asked hopefully.
The High Elder shrugged his shoulders and continued on up the stairs, “A little bit longer than you have, unfortunately.”
Wendell was beginning to think that this month would be a kind of summer camp experience. He would make a few new friends, learn some tricks, try some new foods, explore and then go home with some great stories. With his indignation diffused Wendell felt confident. He could do this.
“Where are we going?” Wendell’s natural curiosity came out of hiding.
“We are to meet with the High Council pertaining to your arrival. I will return and report to my brethren and present you to them at that time.”
“More Elders?” Wendell hesitated. “Are they blue, too?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “We are all blue.”
“Not Dax. He’s green.”
“Dax is not one of our people, nor does he usually consume our food. His talents give him a rare freedom few enjoy.”
“Oh. Like what?”
“Teleportation. I know of no other who has his gift.”
“Oh, yeah. What is he then?”
An awkward moment passed while the High Elder fumbled for the appropriate definition. “He’s an anomaly. He looks like a Vallen, which in common tongue means ‘Troll’, but he has Evolu blood as well.”
“Ee-vaw-loo?” Wendell asked slowly.
“Yes. The Elves.”
Trolls? Elves? Wendell’s head turned from side to side. Incredible. “Next, you’re going to tell me there are dwarves and giants, too.”
Raising his shoulders, the High Elder kept walking and said nothing.
“Seriously?!” Cool. “You said I’m from this universe. What am I?”
“You, my young friend, are one of us. You are Iskäri.” His smile was genuine and friendly.
How can that be? “But, I’m not blue.”
“Nor would you become so even in your lifetime. The pigment of our skin comes from the minerals in our soil and takes generations to manifest itself. Our brothers, who live in other lands, have the same fair skin as yourself, but we share the same ancestry.”
“Oh.” With the pressure off, he was dying to ask. “Why do you guys need a hero? I mean, you have magic and dragons and, well…things like Dax. What do you need a kid like me for?”
The High Elder was silent again, until they came into the office where Wendell had agreed to go along with all this craziness. Turning to look directly at Wendell, he explained. “The races are weak and falling. Mahan, the Lord of Darkness, is a traitor to his friends. His lust for power and desire to rule is so consuming he would rather see entire civilizations tortured and destroyed than allow men to choose for themselves. The Nocturi were the first to experience his insatiable hunger for dominion.” He lowered his eyes. “Now they are no more.”
As the High Elder let out a heavy sigh, Wendell felt the tangible weight of sadness bearing on his shoulders. “Hundreds of years ago, the last Hero only succeeded in locking Mahan away. The Dark Lord’s influences are growing and six of the great nations have already fallen. My fears are being confirmed that he has gained considerable influence over others and we struggle to save this generation.” The High Elder looked at Wendell and spoke in a firm tone. “Only the first born son of the royal bloodline will have the full power of the gem. There are many hopes built upon the prophecy that the Hero will come and only through him will the Ithäri defeat the evil descending upon us.”
“And you think that guy is me.”
“I have been watching over you since I was a young elder,” he said gently. “Wendell, I know this is hard to accept, but remember, I did tell you that you were hidden for a reason. You were in danger and so your loving parents made that difficult decision to send you away, where you would be safe. Evil wanted to find you and destroy you.” The High Elder found himself reaching out in an intense passion to grab Wendell’s forearm, emphasizing his point. “My efforts were hurried so you would have the protection of the gem. Unfortunately, you are very vulnerable, since you have decided not to accept this mantle. Often have I been called to thwart the Evil as it still strives to find and destroy you.”
“Well, here I am,” Wendell challenged being deliberately obtuse. This plea was beginning to grate on his nerves. “Closer than I ever wanted to be, thanks to you. Did this bloodline and Ithäri also agree to put themselves at the mercy of your Council? Give up any independent thought or choice?”
Understanding Wendell’s implication the High Elder spoke firmly. “You made your choice. I may have rushed you. I may have encouraged you. But I did not choose for you.”
All his life Wendell wanted to be a somebody. Just this once, can’t I be the guy with everything? He didn’t like admitting, even to himself, that secretly, he really was willing to take the chance. That even though something screamed no, he did it anyway. Just in case…
Wendell paused, I hate being wrong.
He didn’t have to believe anything the High Elder said because he had already made the decision to go home. And because he was going home, he knew the High Elder had no reason to lie anymore. Everything was different, now. The High Elder’s stories were told with such sincerity, they appealed to Wendell’s inner ‘Defender of the Geek’. He was reluctant to admit, there was no seizing in his gut or impulse to run, just a deep calmness and resolve. Wendell stood quietly with his eyes dow
n when the High Elder placed a hand on his arm, interrupting his thoughts.
“Come with me, Wendell. I want you to see something.”
Thoughtfully, he followed as they left the quarters and walked through a large, square hall with rows of pillars supporting an intricate web of chiseled arches. With the exception of small mounted sconces, the hall was bare. Yup, this is where I came in. He looked down at his fingers. Where there should have been scabs and torn nails from clawing at the floor, his hands were unblemished. He looked around expecting to find blood or some evidence of the struggle with Dax and found nothing.
“Does…Ithäri heal my wounds?” Wendell asked meekly, curious. “I mean, if I get hurt?”
The High Elder smiled as they moved between the pillars, “Yes. You are her greatest treasure. She will use all her power to keep you alive, healthy and strong at all times.”
Wow, he mused.
The hall narrowed as they passed underneath an arch and looked to the next. They were going outside! Wendell could see the light, hear the birds chirping. Enticing him, the scent of freedom quickened his pulse, rushing Wendell forward. Air! He burst through the doorway, inhaling so sharply, he became lightheaded and reached out to the stone archway for support. It was so unexpected, so gratifying, to revel entirely in the fresh air and natural light, Wendell didn’t care to hold back his tears. I am alive. The cool mist in the breeze danced on his skin, enlivening each nerve. Closing his eyes, Wendell leaned over, hands on his knees to take in another deep breath, surrendering all conscious thought and will to relishing in the sensation.
Wendell had forgotten about the High Elder until scuffled footsteps paused next to him. He squeezed his eyes tight and exhaled.
“Behold…Sanctuary,” the High Elder said with reverence. “A gift from your family to our people.”
Wendell stood up slowly, opening his eyes. He was standing on an immense stone terrace, awestruck by the statues of men and warriors supporting the dome overhead. Wendell tilted his head as he looked from one to the next. Each one seemed to reach out to share his story. One armor clad warrior in particular, had obviously seen many battles. The worn creases on his face would have made him seem old and sad if it weren’t for the eyes. Rich with hope in their gentle smiling crinkles they pierced Wendell’s heart as they stared right through him. Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself the swelling in his chest, of a deep brotherly bond connecting him to this man as if they had known one another once. I wonder what his story is, Wendell mused.
Walking to the balustrade, he was impressed by the vast city beyond the terrace. It was simply beautiful. No war, no destruction. Just light and life everywhere. He felt so small. Just a tiny bug in an awesome and beautiful world. Oh yeah, this is so much bigger than me. What were they thinking?
Leaning out, Wendell noticed a rumbling in the ground. It came from two enormous waterfalls on either side of the terrace diving hundreds of feet to a pool below. White foam glistened as it sprayed into the breeze, carrying the cool moisture up to Wendell’s nostrils. Content in this moment, he closed his eyes again, smiled, and inhaled deeply.
Thousands of white buildings and domed cathedrals stretched out before him. His eyes followed the intricate waterways, saturated with flowers, trees, vines, and grass, between, around and even through the buildings constructed on a grid. At the center was a small, football-shaped park completely surrounded by a lake of crystal blue water. Five small bridges joined the park to the city and a much larger, white bridge arched over the buildings and waterways extending to the terrace, just to Wendell’s left.
Letting his eyes wander, Wendell considered exploring the glinting green forest just beyond the city, when…Whoa! His whole body snapped to attention as he gradually raised his head higher and higher. Whoa!! Taken aback he stared with widened eyes at the incredible sight on either side of the valley and above them. Jagged stone stretched upward in two monstrous glowing waves of earth, curving over the entire valley like vigilant guards to the white city. Through the narrow crevice was a deep blue and white planet nearly engulfing the sliver of exposed sky.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?”
“What is THAT!?” gasped Wendell as he looked around for the High Elder while pointing.
“That is the planet of Elämä. It is the battlefield, the prize, and where you were born.”
“And what about the…the… mountains?” Wendell glanced back at the monoliths while making awkward curving motions with his hands.
The High Elder chuckled quietly, pleased with Wendell’s curiosity. “Shifted and shaped by the Ithäri, those shields of stone, ore and crystal help protect us from the high planetary wind and dangerous sands. An enchantment, through the crystals, regulates our days and nights.”
Wendell couldn’t take his eyes off the planet. I am a loooong way from home. His heart raced as his breathing became shallow. He just stared. There wasn’t anything else to do. How is this even possible? His brain hurt trying to take in the possibilities he couldn’t explain. A long way from home.
“Go explore,” the High Elder encouraged with a gentle, fatherly kind of smile. “You will be safe.”
Wendell had to yank his thoughts and eyes back to the city, back to the High Elder. “What?”
There were people everywhere. Thousands of them busily about daily life. They’re blue. Wendell watched them walking the streets, shouting and waving to one another, or working among the plants. Several were working upon a nearby roof. He was not altogether confident about being left alone. “What about that meeting with the Council?”
“Meet me at the Prime Gate at even. That will give you some time to ponder and explore your temporary home. Find yourself something to eat.” Then noticing Wendell’s raised eyebrows and confusion he pointed. “That structure in the middle of the park. Meet me there…at dark. All the main roads lead back here, so you can’t get lost.” He looked at Wendell with a raised eyebrow to make sure that Wendell understood before he tucked his arms into his robe, turned and walked away.
Wendell walked to the bridge. I’m all alone. He stood there not knowing what he dared do. Hmmm… Shuffling slowly to the side he looked over the edge. His stomach growled. It was a long way down and a long way across. Might as well start walking, he thought, and took his first step out into the direct sunlight. Sunlight? That stimulated an interesting question. Where is the light and warmth coming from? Wendell looked all around him and did not see a sun. His eyes went to the glowing…mountains? Oh, yeah. He said something about enchanted crystals regulating stuff.
Glancing down over the movements of the city he wondered why there wasn’t anyone else on this bridge. Then remembering he wasn’t blue like everyone else, he was grateful for the chance he would have to observe them first. What if they don’t like me? The butterflies in his stomach fluttered for a split second before he mentally caged them.
The park’s rim was thickly wooded. The bridge’s base met with a wide well-used path which Wendell followed directly to the Prime Gate. It was a giant triangular structure, much larger than Wendell thought it would be, smack dab in the center of the park, just like the High Elder said. From each side, stone ramps led to the center where one large eye was carved into the platform. Three black claws had a white eye scratched into its root before stretching up from the corners and hooking over the platform. Peering closely at the nearest claw Wendell saw there were other carvings, symbols maybe, but they looked messy, randomly placed, almost accidental.
Wendell paused next to the Prime Gate, staring. Strange sort of statue to put out here. It looked…out of place, sorely standing out against the beautiful white structures of the city. He tried to imagine what its purpose could be among the grass and birds and butterflies.
Circling the base he noticed a few people leaning casually against it, watching him. He opened his mouth to say hi, forgetting his feet and stumbled. Hot faced, he tucked his head between his shoulders, offering half a smile and walked in the opposite dire
ction.
Catching Wendell’s attention, there was a shout and then laughing in the distance. Refocusing, he could hear the bustle of people. Children laughed. Flutes and small drums played a merry tune, and frolicking on the breeze was the potent aroma of grilled meats, fresh baked breads and sweet stuff, turning his stomach into a growling beast. It sounded like a celebration. Plan. I need a plan. Where there was a celebration, there was food. Wendell smiled.
He followed the path to the far side of the park, hesitating at the edge of the small bridge. He could see them, now. A street full of busy blue people. Just breathe, Wendell. In, out. In, out.
It was, in fact, not a celebration but a market. Shops lined both sides of a deep cobblestone street. Facing the established shops, smaller cart vendors lined themselves along the center island that showcased an abundance of blooming flowers. Hundreds of people were too busy in conversation, wandering about looking at wares and gathering food in their baskets to notice Wendell. He was comforted, with the exception of the patron’s skin color, it looked a lot like something he might find at home.
Mouth watering, stomach aching, Wendell walked timidly to the center of the street. People smiled politely at him without pausing, some nodding, some waving and a few small children pointing with open mouths for which the parents would apologize. Wendell was surprised at their lack of interest in an obvious stranger wandering in their midst.
Barging into Wendell’s thoughts, a stout man at the corner shop hollered, “Would you like to try the sugar buns?” He stepped out of the doorway, wiping his fat hands on an apron, beaming at Wendell.
Wendell hovered over the cart, smelling the bread and cinnamon, staring as he reached for a back pocket that wasn’t there. “No, thank you,” he said, his stomach protesting with a loud moan, “Uh…I don’t have any money.”
The man’s jovial belly jiggled as he laughed, “Ah, you’re new here!” He reached out to Wendell’s arm and pulled him close. “I don’t deal in coin, boy. The blessing of working together is being able to do what you love for those you love. So, come. Try one of my beauties!!” In one swift motion the fat fingers snatched up a moist, sugar coated bite-sized roll from the cart and pushed it into Wendell’s mouth before he could object.
It was tender, the buttery caramel covered bread melting in his mouth
“Mm…Mmmmm…Mmmmmmmm!!” It was good. And not just because he was famished. Embarrassed, Wendell lowered his eyes and quickly wiped at his mouth.
The old man started laughing. “I’ll take THAT as a true testimony of success!” he beamed. “More?”
With an eager nod and a muffled thank you, Wendell sampled everything in the display. When he had had his fill, the kind baker wrapped a small dark loaf of sour bread in a white cloth.
The baker grinned wide. “Now be off with you.”
Then, having a second thought he put an arm around Wendell, patting him on the back and offered this advise, “When you have need, my young friend, you ask. Understand?”
Wendell nodded, raising his hand in thanks before he walked away.
Feeling more comfortable, Wendell wandered from shop to shop and cart to cart, nibbling on the dark loaf. He took his time, not bothered by being pale skinned or alone anymore, tasting samples of anything offered to him. Each vendor had a similar attitude and countenance, always eager to share and satisfy. He enjoyed purple fruit that looked like melon and tasted like tart oranges and bread stuffed with something that tasted like spiced pork and potatoes. He watched as large baskets were filled with vegetables, fruits, meats, breads and spices, but never an exchange of coin.
He was fascinated with the dried and seasoned meats. Toman? Shelf Cat? They eat cats? Eww. Finding blue meat a bit more adventurous than his nerve, Wendell tried to politely withdraw himself from the eager merchant, thanking him as he backed away.
“Watch it!” a feminine voice hollered with a climbing trill. Too late. As Wendell turned away from the merchant he collided head-on with a large basket filled with produce. Knocked from the young girl’s hands, it flipped to the ground, sending the contents rolling across the marketplace.
“Oh no! Sorry. Sorry!” she cried to those skipping and hopping to avoid trampling the small silver fruits. She quickly sank to the ground.
Wendell knelt down beside her, turning the basket aright. “I’m so sorry. I should have looked where I was going!” He set about grabbing the escaping produce before it could get out of reach.
The young girl sighed in frustration. “No, my mother always told me not to carry the baskets so full.” Reaching for an escaping piece she stopped short when she noticed Wendell’s hands getting to it first.
“Goodness! What’s wrong with your skin!?” she exclaimed.
Looking up, her eyes widened and she pulled back in surprise. Smoothing her wavy, black hair out of her face and back into the loose ribbon of her ponytail, she quickly composed herself. Amused, Wendell watched as she gently refashioned her surprise into an enveloping broad smile flattered by full glossy lips and dimple in her left cheek. Wendell admired her bright azure eyes as the corners crinkled, turning up slightly like they were smiling at him, too.
“Well, hello!” she said, freely studying him. Her smile grew as she waited for him to respond.
Nervously, he stammered, “Really, I…I’m sorry about this. C…can I carry it for you?” Wendell found himself smiling a big toothy grin right back as he lifted the basket from her arms. “Where’s your shop?”
“Right behind you, boy,” came a burly, protective voice. Smiling, the tall man rolled his eyes at the transfixed girl. Taking the basket from Wendell, he gently placed the silver fruit into the display cart. “Thank you, Kyliene. Give my fondest regards to your grandmother.”
“You’re welcome, Alor,” she sang cheerfully, without taking her gaze from Wendell. “Nana hopes the salve is working for you.”
Alor cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “Uh, …yes.” He set the basket down between Wendell and Kyliene and turned to his shop. “Good day, dear.”
Wendell watched the exchange between the two. He was enchanted with the melodic way she put words together. It was like listening to a wind chime being tickled by a spring breeze. Every time he looked to her, she was still watching him. Wow. He wasn’t used to attention from girls. Why won’t she stop staring? Wendell smiled back, his face flushing. Do I have food on my face? He got up, turning a bit to the side so that he could swipe a hand across his mouth. Kyliene watched him, still smiling without a word.
She’s adorable! The soft bouncing black curls reminded him of a puppy and he had to resist the urge to scoop her up and squeeze her. Wow. He gulped out loud. Wendell guessed she was close to his age and it didn’t matter that she was blue. Oh I am SO glad I’m stuck here for a month! Besides the fact that she was actually talking to him and not running away, there was something about her.
Holding out his hand, “Kyliene?”
Then, like a delayed firecracker, “You know my name?” she piqued. “Wow.”
He smiled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “No, the guy who took the fruit said…”
“Fruit!” she squeaked, popping to her feet. “Nana! I need to get back to Nana.” She looked confused turning in circles. “Yes. She can’t see, you know, and I left her in the orchard while I delivered these. …And you are?” She leaned in closer to Wendell, tilting her head to the side, waiting for his answer, again with that intoxicating smile. His knees wobbled and Wendell reached out to the cart to steady himself, hoping to look nonchalant.
“Um…Wendell?” he gulped.
Kyliene giggled. “Are you sure?” she asked sweetly, batting her long eyelashes.
“Uh…,” with an awkward, dopey laugh, “yup, I am…I am Wendell.” His face flushed. Where’s Evan when I need him? What do I do now??
“Okay,” she chimed. “Do you like silveens, Wendell?” she asked picking up the empty basket and putting the handle over her arm.
Wen
dell cleared his throat. “Uh, silveens? I, uh…”
“Silver fruit, small, beautiful, super sweet…”
Just like you? Before he could answer, Kyliene slipped her arm through his, taking his breath away and pulling him down the road.
“I really could use a strong, handsome man to help me lift this heavy basket so I don’t ruin the fruit we’ve worked so long to grow!”
“Okay…” Wendell only knew one thing right now—he wanted to stay with this girl. He felt jittery, the butterflies zipping around between his stomach and heart. Oh yeah, they’re talkin’ to me now. It was thrilling!
As they walked down the street, Wendell listened attentively to the girl on his arm, charmed by the musical way she spoke. He tried not to stare, he didn’t want to scare her, but he loved the way her curls kept falling across her eyes. And if he leaned in toward her, ever so slightly, he was rewarded with the warm sweet scent of her hair on the breeze.
They were going to the orchards just outside the city. Kyliene pointed out the furrows branching out from the waterways, explaining how the entire city and orchards were watered by the propulsion from the waterfalls. He learned that Nana, her grandmother, was a third generation head steward of the orchards. Apparently, it was a great honor. Nana had been raising Kyliene and her brother, Caleb, since their parents died when she was nine.
He was intrigued by the buildings, how they supported and enhanced the beauty of the nature around them. Everything in harmony.
Wendell wasn’t surprised to find that each building had a unique history of its own. One of the great halls was constructed in trade between Sir Barrow, a famous Iskäri painter, and Galep Bombul, head of the Dwarf Masons. Galep had commissioned Sir Barrow to paint his not-so-lovely, shrewish wife Hindel in a desirable, captivating light. When she beheld the finished painting, she was overwhelmed with adoring gratitude to her husband, the wealthy mason insisted on building a mansion as a monument to Barrow’s genius.
Wendell asked about the elaborate benches equally spaced throughout the city and learned about Merchant Tip. Nearly twenty generations ago an off-world merchant, Tip, was so fat he could hardly walk—yet insisted on delivering his goods to his fellow citizens personally. Unable to support his own weight for long, he had benches constructed along his delivery routes. The entire city eventually adopted the measurement as the proper distance between benches.
Passing the tiered platforms of growing crops. Kyliene shared the story of Caleb, a young man whom her brother was named after. Pondering the flow of the great waterfalls and watering system of the orchards, Caleb sought to improve the farming of his community. By creating reinforced tiered fields, the young Iskäri tripled the crop growth by capturing the mineral runoff from one field to another, feeding the crops below through the unique irrigation drip system. As he listened, he marveled at the clever nature of the Iskäri.
Stopping abruptly, she glanced back in the direction of the keep and then up at Wendell with a big grin. “Can you keep a secret?” she said in a low tone.
After glancing conspiratorially from side to side, Wendell nodded.
She leaned in close as she whispered, “Caleb, my little brother, he’s a page to the High Elder.” She paused to look around before continuing. “Well, he’s been sent on a secret errand outside the valley! I think that the Gnolaum…is coming.” She grabbed his shirt sleeve tightly in both fists. “The GNOLAUM. Isn’t that exciting!?” Kyliene bounced on the balls of her feet. “We’ve waited hundreds of years for this!”
No-lum? What’s that? Not wanting her to know that he had no idea what that was, Wendell tried to look appropriately excited by raising his eyebrows over widened eyes and smiling really big as he nodded his head again. He secretly wished he could share that excitement as Kyliene lapsed into an enthralled silence.
The cobblestone street narrowed as they reached the end of the city, where buildings stopped and rows of trees began. A twinkling orchard lay before them, and a succulent, sweet, fragrance beckoned like an intimate friend to come closer.
Kyliene squeezed Wendell’s arm, bringing a fresh flutter of butterflies to his stomach and pulled him into the orchard.
Gnarly, white trunks bore branches heavy with clusters of small silver fruit and radiant green leaves. Wendell watched and listened to the chatter and laughing of young people who were busy working throughout the orchard, dragging wood boxes, carts and baskets from tree to tree.
“Nana, I’m back!” Kyliene called out in her singing way. The only grown-up he could see was a little white-haired woman with a cane, sitting on a bench along the main path. Kyliene smiled brightly as they made their way to the bench.
Kyliene knelt beside her, taking an old wrinkled hand and placing it against her cheek. The Grandmother wiggled her gnarled thumb against the soft flesh and smiled. “I was starting to worry. You took longer than usual, Kyliene and that’s saying a great deal!”
Looking up at Wendell through those long lashes, she leaned closer to her grandmother’s ear and whispered, “I was distracted.” Kyliene reached out for Wendell’s hand and placed it in her grandmother’s. “This is Wendell, Nana. He’s offered to help us today.”
Nana laughed knowingly “Did you now?” and patted Wendell’s hand. Without waiting for a response she added, “Then be about the field, the day’s waning.”
“Yes, Nana.” Taking Wendell’s hand from Nana’s, Kyliene tugged, motioning him to follow.
Kyliene introduced him to some of the other youth workers who eagerly welcomed his help without a single comment about their differences. The girls waved politely and the boys grunted with nods and grins, grateful for more help. A few rolled their eyes, noticing Kyliene’s smitten countenance.
While she gathered a few baskets to place under a tall tree, Wendell stared at the other boys across the path rapidly filling crates. He worried. Okay, this looks simple enough. He reached up to a low hanging branch and pulled at one of the small, round silver fruits. It wouldn’t come free. Come on, Wendell. She’s watching you! He yanked harder, shaking the leaves off the branch, but nothing else. Wendell scratched his head and glanced between the pretty girl and the annoyingly tough fruit. “I’ve never, uh…” Swallowing his pride, he decided to try the humble approach. “How do you get them off the tree?”
Kyliene smiled slyly. “With magic.”
Wendell perked up with curiosity. “Magic? Seriously?”
She nodded soberly. “Absolutely. It’s a magic every steward before me has used and everyone who labors with us must master. Are you willing to abide by what you’ll be taught?”
“I am,” he soberly replied, clearing his throat. Wow! I’m going to learn magic!! Heck, yeah!
“Then I shall teach you the ancient lore of silveen harvesting.” Biting her bottom lip, Kyliene held up a small blade with a wooden handle. “This is called a knife. If you draw it across the stem of the fruit, it magically drops into your hand.” She held it out to him, handle first.
Wendell rolled his eyes and sighed, “So THAT’S how they do it around here, huh?”
They laughed. Wendell was grateful to her for the gentle teasing that dispelled his discomfort.
Wendell found the sweet scent of the ripened silveen like adrenaline in his veins. He worked hard and was surprised when he enjoyed harvesting—maybe it was the company. He caught on quickly, grateful he turned out to be uncharacteristically adept. Within minutes he found a steady rhythm moving from tree to tree, filling box after box and sliding them to the path to be picked up by the next crew. It became a contest, the younger boys egging on the newcomer, racing from tree to tree on the other side of the path. The packers paused and started chanting Wendell’s name while Kyliene, describing the events to her Nana, laughed. Wendell wanted to do this every day, just to hear that sweet sound.
Once the fruit was gathered, the youth went off with their carts to deliver their bounty throughout the city.
“Where are you staying, Wendell?” asked Kylien
e as they stacked the empty boxes in the supply cart.
“Uh… I’m supposed to meet the High Elder at the Prime Gate at even.” Why did I say that? He felt goofy using the High Elder’s words. Did she notice?
“Oh. Good. Then you have time to walk me and Nana home.”
With Kyliene on one arm and Nana on the other, they strolled back towards the market. The shops were closing down now. Display carts had been removed and only a few merchants remained, sweeping the cobblestone street.
Suggestively, Kyliene asked with an impish grin, “So, you’re new around here and you’re meeting the High Elder?”
“Mind your own business, young lady,” Nana interrupted. “Besides, its my turn.” She smiled at him and Wendell could see where Kyliene got here smiling eyes and spunk from. Pleased by the attention, he exaggeratedly turned his complete focus to Nana. The grandmother, this time, did most of the talking.
But Wendell’s mind was soon pulled from the old woman’s voice as he gazed ahead. He could see the small black claws of the Prime Gate poking up above the tree line and in the distance, the large white rainbow of a bridge that lead back to the Keep. Rising from the ground, the shimmering castle of white stone rode upon the mist of the waterfalls, reflecting the dimming light of the crystals overhead. The large castle which earlier looked to be born out of the very stone it rested upon, now floated gracefully without foundation.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” whispered Kyliene.
“Erimuri in the ancient tongue means desert flower,” chimed Nana, feeling Wendell’s pace slow. “It became a great haven for our people and is now lovingly called Sanctuary. There are fifteen valleys, each one named for the fifteen cycles which make up our year. This valley is called Tamku. Each of the elders preside over a valley as their stewardship. The High Elder is the Head Steward of all Sanctuary, and steward of Tamku.” Nodding toward the castle, “The Keep of Tamku was always my favorite.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” They waited patiently until Wendell was ready to move on and then Kyliene guided them down a side road.
Their home was beautifully situated, facing the lake and trees around the park for a great view, as well as conveniently located next to the market, practically on Wendell’s way. It instantly stood out with its bold red door adorned with violet-blue and white Bellflowers, the window beds bursting with rosy-pink Geraniums. Wendell smiled at this boisterous display of Kyliene’s cheery disposition. As she took the full basket into the house Wendell helped Nana up the small steps.
The old woman took his hand, tenderly kissed it at the door and held it tight.
“You are a good boy,” she said gently. “I haven’t heard my granddaughter laugh this much since her parents died. For that, my dear, you have my deepest gratitude.”
For just a moment Wendell was confused to see a blue hand upon a white hand. He had become so comfortable that he’d forgotten they were blue and he was not. It seemed strange to him that in a place where he was so obviously the outsider he felt more ‘normal’ in a day here than he had his whole life at home. Wendell didn’t know what to say, so he simply leaned down and gave the old woman a gentle hug.
“Awww,” Kyliene cooed in her trilling way.
The old woman waved her hand over her head in submission, “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Goodnight, Wendell, my dear boy! You come see us again soon, yes?” Then she hobbled past her granddaughter and into the house.
Wendell’s heart began to pound as Kyliene leaned in the doorway with that smile. For a moment the two just watched each other shyly, stringing out the moments.
Kyliene brushed the black hair from her face, tucking it over her ear.
“I have to go,” he said, hating to hear that phrase come from his own lips. “I’m supposed to meet the High Elder.”
Her soft hand slid into his, intwining their fingers. “Then I better make sure you don’t get lost.”
The crystals were dimming but not so much so that Wendell could not see the annoyingly large smile on the High Elder’s face as they approached the ramp. Embarrassed, Wendell let go of Kyliene’s hand.
The High Elder put an arm around her and squeezed, leaning his cheek tenderly against her forehead. “Hello, Kyliene. I’m glad to see young Wendell has made friends with one of our more responsible youth. And how is Moira this evening?”
“Nana is very well. It was a fruitful day,” she smirked.
The Elder chuckled at the pun and placed a hand on Wendell’s shoulder. “Please let her know that Caleb should be home within the hour. If you’ll excuse us, my dear, Wendell and I have an appointment to keep.”
“Of course. Goodbye, Wendell. Will I see you again?” Her smile was bright, but the expression was questioning.
Wendell looked to the High Elder for an answer to Kyliene’s question and the Elder just shrugged his shoulders.
“Count on it,” he said with a smile.
Then Wendell allowed the High Elder to lead him up the path toward the bridge.
CHAPTER 7
VALLEN
There comes a moment in every life when the Universe presents you with an opportunity to rise to your potential. An open door that only requires the heart to walk through, seize it and hang on.
The choice is never simple. It’s never easy.
It’s not supposed to be.
But those who travel this path have always looked back and realized that the test was always about the heart.
…The rest is just practice.
Prelude to a Hero (Chronicles of a Hero 1) Page 6