by Daniel Huber
She let her mind slip from the dire matter that had polluted her thoughts for the past day and a half as she walked along the floor of the cave. The towering walls seemed to stretch into eternity, and along them were naturally forming crevices, which had become makeshift shelves. The shelves were filled with thousands of adornments, ranging in type from hand made artifacts that were obviously of ancient design, to fewer, and somewhat more modern novelties. Crystal boxes, exquisitely carved statues of stone and wood, baskets and dried wreaths abounded, but it was a simple flowered headband braided together with colorful ribbons that had faded with time and age that seemed to take center stage among the other gifts, a place its simplicity did not warrant. Numerous sheets of handmade paper were also stacked along the shelf bearing inscriptions of love and adoration toward the mythological muse Avalon. Clea craned her head back to take in the overwhelming display of miscellaneous baubles. They glittered and glowed from their lofty perches above, a true showcase of treasures. Many of the items were things she knew had come from faraway worlds, things she had only seen in pictures or heard of in her travels. Many more of the things were native to Bethel, had been fashioned from the planet's abundant materials. And though she was nothing of a historian of Bethel's natural resources, her memories from school lessons came back as she surveyed the items. Some of them surely had to be hundreds of years old.
"Where did you get all this stuff?" she asked, looking along the lowest horizontal crevice that served as a shelf.
"Most of what you see here and within were offerings or gifts. From people who seek me, or who I have sought. They come to lay offerings in the forest at the fork of…"
"…the ten weeping trees," Clea finished. She looked over to him. "Just like the legend says."
Avalon nodded, watching her patiently. She looked about the area, at the far distant ceiling of pinpoint lights that somehow illuminated the space like thousands of tiny stars, at the layers of tapestries that covered the walls and the rocks as if they were furniture, the hand-knit blankets and quilts that made this stone enclosure seem comfortable. The faint, bubbling sound of water over rocks provided a calming background noise, and Clea finally made her way to sit on a low bench of woven branches which was thick with the covering of barbak tapestry. Avalon came to sit beside her and asked again about her visit.
"What has happened that troubles you so, my Clea?"
Reality had settled back in and she didn't take time to mince any words.
"Tell me again the secret of P'cadia," she said. "Apparently I don't remember it correctly, because if I did what happened yesterday never would have happened."
Avalon's expression was hard to read. "What brings this to the fore, Clea? You've not spoken of P'cadia since you were a child."
"Quade brings it to the fore, that's what! Quade showed up yesterday morning and said he's been having dreams of P'cadia. Dreams of P'cadia, Avalon! How could Quade possibly know about this place?"
"So it is Quade," Avalon said thoughtfully. "I thought if anyone it would have been Trina."
"What is Quade?" Clea asked, her voice angry and impatient. "What does he have to do with this secret you told me, this place that you spoke of when I was too young to even understand? Tell me again, so I can make sense of this now."
Of course Avalon knew that Clea remembered the words he'd spoken so many years ago. But Avalon was patient and he understood that this was the way things would eventually come to pass. In her eyes there was panic, desperation, and Avalon looked at her warmly.
"On your eleventh birthday I told you a secret," he began, his voice calm and even, as it always was. "It was a secret that only few in the entire universe know about, a secret so large and so very special that you are the only person I have ever revealed it to."
Clea bit her lip because the words were as clear right then as the first day he'd said them, over twelve years ago.
"There is a magical place in your future my Clea," Avalon continued. "A magical place called P'cadia where the Avè dwells, and someday the Avè will guide you and those you stand with on the grand quest that is your destiny. The prophecy that masks itself in the guise of a legend is the path that will lead your future, Clea. And the beginning of these events will arise when the Seer comes questioning you about dreams of a strange place that they don't understand, a place called P'cadia. And then you must share the secret riddle that I shall tell you now…"
"Stop," she said softly. "You don't have to repeat it." There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "I don't believe in destiny, Avalon." Clea's voice was quivering as she spoke, but she fought to keep her composure. "I've always told you this, and I'll continue to tell you forever if I have to."
"Believe in it or not Clea, the events are set in motion. This is the time of a cataclysmic event. You must find Quade, and help him find P'cadia. For without you, he will have no direction, and all that I've told you over the years will be lost."
"All my life as you've told me these stories, weaved these tales of legend and lore, taught me lessons and told me things no one else ever has. I thought it was just to help me get through life and stay out of trouble." Clea laughed, but there was no smile on her face. "And now these things start to become reality and I'm expected to take my place among them, among this prophecy. That I alone will be the guide of the Chosen."
"I've always told you that I was here for you to help fulfill your destiny, Clea, by making you understand that it is real." He reached out and took her hand in his, and she looked up into his eyes. "But since you refused to believe your destiny was preordained, you interpreted my words to best suit your outlook. And you have never been alone in your position. Did you never realize that I play a role in this as well?"
Clea tried to think of a rebuttal, but couldn't, and again Avalon spoke words she'd only ever heard him say:
'Others, more secret, shall play a part in this unfolding scheme
And by their guide revealed becomes the Chosens' destiny'
She pulled her hand away from his, felt a fluttering in her stomach at the words from the lost ending passage of the legend that was told as entertainment in current day, the legend that was really a prophecy, that Avalon had gently insisted she was to be a part of for all the years she'd known him. Since she had always dismissed the idea that she would be a party to something she didn't control it had never occurred to her that Avalon had a part in this destiny that he'd always said was hers. But now everything was becoming clear, all too clear. So many things he'd said over the years came back to her, fell into place in her mind when before they only dangled in her memory. Clea pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly, and she willed herself to wake from this nightmare that was about to become her life. Avalon's voice sounded too real and she was angry that it didn't have the dreamy quality that would verify that she was only dreaming this entire thing.
"You must search for Quade," he said. "Tell him the secret riddle of P'cadia."
"I already told him." She was exasperated, but looked up as she spoke. "I did what I was supposed to do, what you said to do when this impossible prophecy came to pass! But that doesn't mean I'm a part of this!"
"Always so unwilling to accept your destiny, even as it unfolds around you." Clea looked away, her jaw clenched. Avalon leaned across to her, and brushed back her hair, smoothing the tear from her cheek. "You are, if nothing else, consistent, my Clea."
She turned to look back at him, and saw the familiar affection in his smile, leaned her face into the comfort of his hand. She felt so tired, emotionally wrung, and all she wanted to do at that moment was escape into sleep.
"Find Quade, Clea. Find out if he's gone to P'cadia."
"Find Quade… and get further wrapped up in this? Quade is the last person I want to see right now. Besides, I can't Avalon, not now. I'm leaving in the morning on another run for Ryder." Avalon ran his fingers over her cheek, his touch luring her into a drowse, but instead she sat up, moving away
from his caress. She wiped her eyes and straightened her back. "But I will do this, since you deem it so important. I'll talk to Quade when I get back, before the Twilight Bloom. He's sure to be around for that. I'll talk to him then, tell him anything he needs to know, anything you've ever told me through all the years. But that's it. That's where my role in this ends." Clea seemed to garner some sense of calm in her decision, and Avalon shook his head. There was only so much he could do.
"And still you refuse to believe the enormity of this circumstance. My Clea, my headstrong Clea! I've told you all there is for me to tell for now. Some of these things you will have to discover on your own." She seemed to ignore him and Avalon stared for a minute at her troubled face. She was physically exhausted and emotionally weary, and he knew she had reached her limit.
"I take it then, that the run for Ryder was successful," Avalon continued, knowing that this change of topic would help to bring her back from her defiance against him, and all the things she knew he represented.
"Successful, yes," she answered with the trace of a smile. "Tomorrow morning we go to Medius, then back home by afternoon. And then Twilight Bloom…" She paused, reminiscing. "I've always loved Twilight Bloom, Avalon. The sky and the moons, the plants and the flowers. The music and the food…" As Clea remembered the celebrations in the past, she toyed with the fringe on the tapestry that she sat upon.
"Are you hungry, Clea?" She hadn't hardly eaten since the exchange with Quade the previous day, and she was starving, actually. She rubbed her tired eyes as she answered him.
"Yes."
When Clea looked up again, she saw Avalon's outstretched palm. In it, sat a plump berry, ripe and looking as though it would burst under the slightest pressure. Avalon reached back to Clea's face and gently held her jaw in his hand. With the other, he brought the fruit to her mouth, and she opened her lips to receive it. Her gaze held his all the while, but as she smashed the offering against the roof of her mouth her eyes rolled back from the sweetness of nectar that flooded her tongue.
"Oh, Avalon it's wonderful. What was it?"
"The plant is called tikka-pela," he replied, running his hand along her hair, brushing it back. "The fruit is a tikka berry."
"I've never heard of it."
"It is not of this world. Here, have another." He offered her his palm, where two berries had appeared. She didn't know how he was producing this strange and delicious fruit, but she didn't care. She took one and sucked it through her lips and he took the other himself.
"I didn’t know you ate," she said.
"I do not need to," he replied, reaching behind the back of the tapestry covered bench and bringing forth a small basket of the berries that had appeared there. "But I enjoy the taste and textures of food. It is a decadent indulgence."
"So sweet," she said, devouring several of them. "These tikka berries…how did you find them?"
"In another realm, the tikka plant is traditionally wound around the alter during a wedding ceremony. At the close of the vows, the bride and bridegroom feed each other a tikka berry before their first kiss, to ensure it is a sweet one."
"A nice tradition," she said as he brushed back her hair. "Thank you for sharing it with me." She closed her eyes against the touch of his hand, tired and easily able to slip away from the enormity of the events that she knew lay before her.
"Clea," he said, "it grows dark outside. You need to get back home."
"Do I?" Her voice had turned lazy, seductive. "What need, for me to go home? What if I choose to stay here with you, to eat tikka berries all night and fall asleep to the sound of this trickling stream, to doze among these ancient treasures, wake to look up at the magical pinpoint lights of the ceiling? What would you say then?" Avalon looked at her wistfully.
"I would ask why you paint such an alluring scenario when you've no intention of fulfilling it?"
"What's to predict of my intentions? I might do just what I said, someday."
"But not today."
"Alas, no. Not today. Not when I have to wake so early to meet Ryder." She stood, reached for his hand. "Walk back with me Avalon?"
"Of course my Clea. I will lead you. For you'd never find your way from here alone."
She smiled at him, began to take on her usual appearance as he rose to stand beside her. "I think you might underestimate my acquaintance with these trees."
The blanket of night was quickly falling upon the kingdom, and as they walked through the forest Clea realized that not only would she never have found her way back home, but she would also never be able to find the hidden cave again were she looking for it. Not that this troubled her; Avalon never seemed to be very difficult for her to seek out when she needed him, and he usually showed up before then anyway.
As she walked away from him at the edge of the forest, staring at her house in the near distance, Clea was thinking on Avalon's collection of gifts that she had seen along the stone shelf inside the cave. She stopped and turned around.
"It occurs to me," she said, walking back toward him, "that in all the years I've known you, I've never given you a gift to thank you for everything that you've helped me with."
"But that's not true, Clea," Avalon replied, "the braided flower headband that hangs central above the lowest shelf? You gave me that when you were only seven."
The edge of Clea's mouth crooked into an amused smile, and she thought hard to try and recall this event.
"I don't remember that," she said, "are you sure?"
"Of course I am sure, Clea. It is my favorite gift." She laughed.
"Well, of course back then I didn't even believe in you." She turned again and walked the path toward her house. "Back then my parents had me convinced that you were just some strange imaginary friend."
"And now?"
Clea looked over her shoulder as she continued to walk away, said nothing else and just smiled.
Jiri could smell the scent of food wafting through the ancient halls of Sigh Castle, and he guessed to himself what it was that would be his supper tonight; some succulent pie of roast potatoes and root vegetables smothered in gravy, a rich stew with crusty bread straight from the oven? He quickened his pace. Supper would have to be eaten quickly if he wanted to catch up on his reading before the night grew too deep. In his mind he thought of his list of duties; bring down two more silken horse blankets from the stable loft—they were more gentle on the horse's delicately painted coats than the coarser woven ones that were normally used—refill the supply containers of oat rings and fresh vegetables, find out if Trina needed anymore ribbon ties for the horses' manes. An eve of simple duties for Jiri. Plenty of time to get lost in his books.
A door opened just as he passed it and Jiri glanced over his shoulder then stopped as the Keystone said his name.
"Jiri," he said, his voice a bit stern.
"Good evening to you, Keystone." There was a pause when the Keystone said nothing and Jiri began to feel a bit uneasy. "I was just on my way to the kitchen for my supper. Is there anything I can bring to you?"
"Come here, Jiri." The young man looked around, but there was no one else anywhere in the corridor, not even Aazrio, who usually hovered close to the Keystone. Jiri stepped slowly toward the door. Tiny hairs on his body raised in response to the cold static that surrounded him and he rubbed his arms absently, a creeping discomfort rising that he didn’t understand. The Keystone's eyes were dark and shiny, and he didn't have his usual gentle expression that always made him so approachable.
"Yes, Keystone?"
"Step inside, Jiri. There's something I'd like to speak with you about." Jiri slowly crossed the threshold into the Keystone's suite of rooms and the door shut behind him with a heavy thud.
CHAPTER 22
Quade flew low along the surface of the planet, trying to keep his frustration in check. He'd landed three times, scanned the area again and again for any sign of a building that could serve as a dwelling, or any sign of life at all. There had been nothing. Nothing on
his ship's sensors, nothing on his portable sensors when he'd walked the sparse terrain, nothing that the eye could see. Nothing but the liquid sun, the shimmering sea.
In his mind, Quade still felt his instincts had been right, but his patience was wearing thin and doubt was getting easier to succumb to. But every time the doubt crept in, he remembered the images of destruction in the vision from the emissaries, and his determination was renewed.
From his position in the air, Quade noticed an odd shape he hadn't seen before. It appeared to be a wall of stone, and was the largest upright landmark he'd seen thus far on the planet. Since he had nothing else to go on at the moment, he decided to land his ship for the fourth time and take a look at what it was.
From the air it hadn't seemed this long of a hike, Quade thought to himself as he made his way up the barren cliff, the rocky surface of the terrain causing him to loose footing and almost slip several times. Granted, distances were often deceptive from an aerial view, but his judgements were usually better than this. The heat of the sun felt uncomfortable on his back as he climbed his way to the top of the incline, then finally pulled himself over the edge. He paused then, puzzled at what he saw.
It was the most unusual thing. From all his sensor scans, and all his visual inspections, this planet had absolutely no qualities that leant it to ever having seen a human upon it; no evidence of structures, no apparent disruption to any of the land, little that there was. But here in the middle of nowhere this wall stood and upon it, was carved hundreds of bizarre and unreadable shapes and symbols, none of which looked familiar to Quade in any way. Then something caught his eye, caused him to stand very still lest he lose his visual lock on the thing that seemed familiar. It was a symbol he'd seen before, but where? Not taking his eye off the strange shape, he ran an inventory of his memories and then it became clear; the symbol was of an old leader from Oracuu, the same symbol that was emblazoned upon the hull of every native ship. Quade didn't know much about the history of Oracuu, but he knew enough to remember that the symbol was on all the ships as a mark of honor to this exalted leader. Quade stepped closer, traced the intricate design with his finger, then carefully examined the other symbols nearby. More of them became recognizable to him, not many, but some. He'd seen them in his travels, seen them in his lessons years ago in school. But still they made no sense. He took Trina's amulet from his pocket and studied it, compared it to the wall, trying to find anything that could possibly be a link to it, like a puzzle piece, something that would help him make sense as to why it seemed right to take it in the first place and what might've connected it to the dreams that he'd had about this place called P'cadia. He walked along the wall, staring and studying. Of the shapes he could recognize, he found no particular similarity, except that they were from historical figureheads or planetary leaders. The symbols became more impossible to decipher, and more complex to look at. The wall stretched out ahead of him forever, seemed to be getting longer as he walked alongside it. Quade stopped and backed away from the stone, trying to grasp some clue. It felt like hours he'd been standing there with the heat of the sun on his back, and it seemed like the symbols were changing position whenever he looked away from them, the riotous tangle of foreign shapes becoming a hostile enemy as Quade's hope began to dwindle. An cryptic riddle and a baseless notion that led him to this desolate planet, thinking he'd find the answers to saving his world. What a fool he'd been to think he could seek the Avè! And even if he could actually find the Avè, who was to say that the Avè would grant him an audience? The helplessness swelled inside of him to the point of boiling over.