“What else do they say?” The master turned ageless eyes upward to the red-tailed hawk that watched them from its perch atop the ancient oak tree.
“Well?”
He waited while the hawk bobbed up and down upon the branch, the high-pitched screeee-screee echoing over the green valley; for that is what it was, an ancient place of wonder to those, who, like the master and the student, could see. To others, who the seasons aged and time withered beyond recognition, there was only the tinder-dry brown earth. Nothing moved; nothing grew; and to their eye, it was a vast expanse of death and mystery and so they had kept away these many turnings—
Until now.
The student followed his gaze; his appreciation of what they were seeing no less so than the teacher who had taught him so much. For a time he had left—the master—to walk upon the vast expanse of earth where the clans of the two legged lived; to seek out the one who walked between worlds; the one who one day would take the master’s place. He closed his eyes against the vision of there ever being another other than the one before him. Then, remembering himself, he answered:
“They say that there shall be one amongst those who come who will see what others do not. And if he is the first and passes the test, then he, and those with him, shall go in safety.”
“And those who follow?”
“Will find no welcome.”
“So be it. Let us prepare. For a time, the ancient laws will be forgotten.” Bowing his head, the elder began to speak in the language of the sky people as the hawk listened, its eyes bright and alert with understanding. Then, opening its wings, it took flight; its own cry echoing, mingling with the cries of countless others of its kind.
“We are close.” Jerome stood next to Gabriel; the two looking down upon the distant valley. To their eye, it was a vast expanse of brown grass and boggy places—that and nothing more. Timothy stood behind them, his sword grasped tightly to his side as he looked upon what lie below them; he too, saw what the others saw and wondered how they could cross such an open space where they could be seen; yet at the same time be unprotected. For even with the forest warriors to shield them, they would still be vulnerable without the forest to further cloak their presence.
“Things are not always what they seem.” The Old One stood close to Nickolous, looking up at him; her eyes bright with understanding. They had paused for a moment while Jerome was talking to Gabriel. Orith had taken the opportunity to rest a little apart from the others; while Chera lingered close by, alert for anything untoward that might threaten.
Nickolous knelt before the Old One, his gaze resting on hers. “Old One,” he spoke the words softly, his arm going about her to offer support as she leaned against him; one paw clutching her staff, the other patting Nickolous gently as he looked at her, his blue eyes questioning.
“Remember, things are as we perceive them, each thing being different to the one who observes from a different place.” She placed his hand to her heart; her eyes speaking for her as she tried to convey something to him without words.
Nickolous patted her gently, his touch letting her know he understood what she was trying to tell him. Then, turning, he left to walk ahead to the rolling rise where Jerome and Gabriel stood, waiting.
Jerome turned at the soft sound of approaching footsteps; even though he knew it was Nickolous, he stood, watching, wondering within himself at the change in him. Gone was the boy; before them stood a man. Untried, true, but a young man, soon to be a warrior, the likes of which had not been seen since the warriors of Skye had departed to their high places, the guardians of those who dwelt in the lower places. Exchanging glances with Gabriel, he moved to let him stand between them.
“There, beyond the barren plain, the three sleeping warriors that guard the gate wait.” The big warrior pointed to a distant rise.
Nickolous shielded his eyes against the suns glare as he peered down the deep incline that led into the valley. “We will have safe passage through the valley to the other side. The forest walls are deep and thick, they will hide us from the prying eyes of those who follow.”
Jerome turned; startled at the words. Casting a glance toward the big wolf that stood on the other side of Nickolous, he looked once again across the desolate plain, searching for what Nickolous saw.
Finally, seeing nothing but a barren place of deadness, he turned back toward the Old One, his gaze questioning. Black eyes peered up at him with a knowing in their depths that startled him.
Turning back to Nickolous, he couldn’t help the feeling that fluttered deep within his chest. A distant remembering, long forgotten, struggled to rise—to surface within reach of his ability to know—
“Jerome, use your warrior’s heart to see!” Nickolous reached out to grasp his friend’s arm, his touch burning as Jerome pulled back, startled at the sensations that coursed through him. Beside them, Gabriel growled, the sound low and rumbling deep within his chest as he sensed what the warrior felt, his own primordial instincts coming to the fore as he glimpsed a vision draped within the misty places where it had all began; then, just as quickly vanished. He shook his head.
“I do not know what it is you see, but I will trust your judgment,” Jerome said, not quite believing the words were coming from his mouth, yet nonetheless finding himself following Nickolous.
“What is it that he sees?” Orith asked as he fell into step beside the Old One, his gaze questioning as he stepped carefully over fallen limbs that blocked their path.
“It is a knowing from the Old Ones. Discernment that few have, yet even fewer know how to use. He has it. He knows how to use it. We, on the other hand, can only glimpse a little, yet he sees the whole.” The Old One wheezed heavily from the exertion as she accepted Orith’s help to climb over the debris. Saying no more, they walked quietly side by side, for the way before them was clear.
Orith nodded—as many turnings as he had, and still he must learn!”
§ § § § § §
“Well? What do you see?” Jerome looked down at Nickolous from his great height; his brows furrowed together, waiting.
“I see a forest full of life. I see a place that has been here since the beginning,” Nickolous replied, his tone succinct.
They were standing in front of a wide expanse of dry grass and boggy places, and as hard as Jerome looked, that’s all he could see.
§ § § § § §
Nickolous stood just within the forest’s edge; his breath catching within his throat as he looked around him. Beckoning the others to follow, he didn’t bother to look back, the need to go into this haunting place of beauty something that drove him forward, unafraid, knowing that there was nothing here to harm him or the others.
§ § § § § §
“He sees with eyes of knowing.”
“They shall pass through protected; let none molest. Close the gates behind them. Any who follow will be stopped.”
“But my Lord—”
The robed figure glanced up, his eyes fathomless. “Through countless turnings we have not interfered; we have obeyed the ancient laws set out from the beginning. Even now as we speak, a terrible darkness threatens the clans of the forest, while the Daughter to the Night covers herself within the earth, away from what she has unknowingly unleashed.” The elder’s voice shook slightly as he continued, his voice betraying the emotions that coursed through him.
“Our own warriors wait in the hidden places; the ability to walk upon the land a forgotten thing, while behind our doors we keep time as it once was; before the greed and deceit that plagues those who have the knowledge to grow festered like an uncontrollable sore. Now, it is time we help those who see these things for what they are; who want to change their destiny.” The elder rose from his kneeling position; looking down at the other, he spoke more softly, the tone in his voice broking no argument.
�
��They shall pass in safety.” The elder turned aside; his voice rising to a high-pitched cry that was immediately answered.
The great golden Eagle, talons extended, landed gently upon the outstretched arm. Bobbing its head, it looked into its holder’s eyes, a feeling, a thought, passing between the two as the forest itself listened, the slight trembling of the Eagle’s body the only indication that the message had been heard.
The Eagle turned its head slightly, his gaze focusing on the eastern ridge that jutted straight upward past their valley; a place where none had entered without impunity.
Until now.
“That’s it, old friend. Go. Tell the guardians of Skye that those who come are to be protected; also, tell those who dwell within the earth that those who follow will not pass through. Nor will they return the way they came.”
The Eagle bounced slightly on the outstretched arm. His gaze questioning; the need to be sure of the elder’s commands beyond all certainty, something that had to be confirmed.
Dark eyes that had seen the world from its beginning bored into the other’s; the color of spun gold. Then, the Eagle soared high, his high keening cry echoing, reverberating throughout the unseen forest that had from the beginning remained silent, invisible to the prying eyes of other realms until now.
§ § § § § §
“Nickolous. Wait.”
Gabriel pulled ahead of the others, his concern for his young charge evident while Orith and the Old One followed behind flanked on either side by Chera and Liege. Strangely enough, the wolves, although uneasy, felt no sense of danger when normally they would have. Jerome walked behind them; his warriors to the back of him, wary and alert, his war club thronged loosely at his side within easy reach as Owen soared above them, gliding sideways, the winds current warm and soothing to his senses. The warrior closed his eyes against the sensation of warmth and when he opened them, he was in the middle of an emerald green forest.
Orith blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden shade, his body to the coolness that surrounded them. To their left a stream ran, trickling over rocks and fallen logs; the moss growing beneath the surface a rich, dark green, the pungent smell of flowers was everywhere.
The Old One inhaled deeply; remembering. Not since her youth had she seen such a forest! Looking about, she absorbed the scents and sounds, not bothering to wonder how all this came to suddenly be—just accepting that it was.
Nickolous was slightly ahead of the others, his long strides taking him quickly and deeply into the center of the forest; even so, when the figure stepped out of the forests shadow, he was not surprised. He stood, waiting for the others; he could hear their footsteps, quickening their pace, as they hurried to catch up.
“Welcome.”
Jerome and the others paused; the figure that approached was familiar and, as he slowly drew his hood back, was recognized. Timothy wished that Sarah were here; she had often wondered who the visitor to the cavern had been.
Owen landed soundlessly; folding his wings tightly to his side; acknowledging the robed figure, he bowed his head slightly. He knew who stood before him; but was amazed that this place was home to such a being. He turned to gaze at Orith and the Old One.
Truly, things were not as they seemed.
§ § § § § §
“I can offer safe passage through the valley but not beyond.” The elder, hands locked behind his back, walked beside Jerome, the two of them following Nickolous while the others followed behind; the Old One and Orith accepting this as just one more thing that was to be. Timothy, more cautious, stayed farther back, not quite ready to trust completely, his sword gripped tightly beneath his cloak.
“—and for that we shall be grateful,” Jerome replied as he glanced toward Nickolous, ever watchful. His companion, noting this, nodded.
“Do not worry for your young friend; he is safe here, guarded by those watchers whom even your eyes cannot see.” The elder paused before continuing, his voice lowered so that only the warrior of the forest could hear the words which were spoken. “Be at ease; there will be none to follow through this valley. None.” He turned toward Jerome, his gaze searching.
Jerome nodded. He understood.
§ § § § § §
Standing upright, the creature stood; nostrils flared, scenting the wind. Seeking out the hidden smells; listening intently for even the slightest of sounds that would betray its intended prey.
There were none.
Cautiously the sentry stepped forward onto the barren plain, the hair along the nape of its neck rising with each step it took; the impending sense of doom growing; yet, driven by the need to obey its master, it motioned the others, those hidden within the long grasses, onward.
The Eagle glided silently upon the wind’s currents, his amber eyes narrowing as he watched the intruders pass into the heart of a place they could not see—into the circle of waiting warriors. Then, as the sounds of battle erupted, he veered eastward, toward the gate and those who guarded its secrets.
§ § § § § §
“Hold! Your weapon is powerless, as are you!”
Jerome stared down at nerveless fingers. His club lay on the grass where it had fallen. The high keening cries had trailed off to a soft sighing, then, nothing.
“There will be none to follow… “ The words were carried upon the wind that blew around them, falling off into the silence as the companions remained where they were, temporarily frozen in place.
Jerome bent to pick up the war club, but the tingling sensation remained, slowly lessening as moments passed. Trusting his instincts, he looped the war club at his side and walked with the elder as Nicko-lous paused at the top of a grassy knoll, his attention on the great Eagle who sat perched above him, its snow-white head turning from side to side as if studying him.
“See? He has the memories of the Old Ones. Buried deep within him they may be; but they are there. Waiting.” The elder from the hidden place turned to Jerome. “He has to but draw them from within himself.”
“A terrible burden for one so young,” Jerome sighed as he turned away from the sight of the great bird with its head bowed, communicating with Nickolous in the manner of the Ancients. His heart welled with pride at Nickolous’s willingness to listen; to learn; there was no question in his mind as to who was the true warrior of heart.
“Do you see beyond our journey, Elder?” Jerome asked as he turned his attention back to the path in front of him.
“My friend, there is no answer for that; for the balance of all things lies not with one being. There is always a combination of events that lead up to the final result.”
Jerome shook his head, acknowledging what he already knew. There was no way to know how this day would end or what tomorrow would bring. He sighed wearily.
“This is where the path ends; it is not safe for me to travel beyond the boundary now, for it is being watched too closely.”
Jerome blinked in the bright light. They were standing at the edge of a heavily overgrown path, littered with debris from countless turnings of the seasons.
“There, beyond this grove, lies the path to the Three. Watch carefully the way the light falls in this place, for it will show the way.” The elder saluted the forest warrior, then, turning, approached Nicko-lous.
Head bowed, Nickolous listened to the words being spoken, and when the white staff was thrust toward him, took it, ignoring the tingling as bracelet and staff recognized their own.
“The Staff! Do you see what the elder has gifted him with?” Orith was incredulous as he helped the Old One to step over the fallen log; covered in moss, it was half rotted. Grabbing Orith, she leaned against him for support; breathless, she could only nod; even she had not expected such generosity. She turned, her dark eyes moist with emotion, and gently patted her companions shoulder.
“The sacred staff
is powerful, but he has to listen—to learn—to hear it when it speaks. Let us hope that when the time comes, he will know what is necessary.” She bowed her head, hoping. That was all she could do.
Jerome stood looking down at the debris strewn along the path. It was obvious it had not been used for many turnings; either that, or those who had walked in this place had chosen their footsteps carefully, lest the dark ones follow.
Turning around to bid a final farewell to the elder from the hidden place, Jerome was not surprised to see that the valley had returned to its former state, and where the elder had stood, there was nothing but a large gray rock beneath a shrub tree that was curled and twisted with age. The Eagle perched on the top branch looking down at the little group, turning its head from side to side, listening, the only sound the soft sighing of the wind as it blew gently through the trees.
Nickolous turned; the staff held before him. Raising his hand in a partial salute, he watched as the great bird took flight, before moving to where Jerome waited.
“Guard the staff as you would your life, my young friend.” Jerome lifted a low-hanging branch out of his way, careful not to break it. He wanted nothing to mark their passage to the sacred place. Nickolous nodded as he tucked the staff inside his coat, partially concealing it as he walked beside Jerome, unafraid; while Owen soared high above them, his eyes searching.
§ § § § § §
A-Sharoon waited in the stillness as the water pooled about her feet. The amulet was clutched tightly in one hand as the other hand held her woolen cloak to her. It was cold here—even for her. She squinted in the half light, her eyes adjusting to the gloom that swirled about her. Wishing she knew more about what was going on outside her self-made prison, she bowed her head and focusing deep within herself, found that secret place where the knowing was. She drew in a deep ragged breath as she felt the Flame’s presence, pushing upon her senses. It called out. She sighed, wishing; then just as quickly pushed it back, her senses overwhelming her as the heart of the Flame called out once more.
Son Of Skye Page 19