I am going the right way, he thought, feeling certain of that at least.
He continued to stare in the opposite direction from which he traveled, unwilling to simply turn his back and still unready to accept the fact that he had to leave. Like a child in fear of separating from those whose love and protection had succored him for so long, his heart grew heavy with each step that drew him further away, though he could now barely recollect enough to feel anything other than a muddle of vague, disassociated feelings of comfort and safety within the lapsing memory. The expression on his handsome face was addled and brimming with concern, for he could not understand what was happening.
Why can’t I remember? he wondered. The harder I try, the more difficult it is becoming.
Sadness enveloped him unbidden, and he knew instinctively that as the distance grew between him and the place he just departed from, the more threatened he would feel. He was just not sure why anymore. He yearned to look backward and he succumbed to that yearning, but try as he might, he could hardly remember any longer what lay hidden behind the curtain of swirling and blowing snow.
Vainly, he tried again and again to summon up the images from the depths of his psyche; the name and the face, the soft voice and the soothing touch. But all of the identifying characteristics were quickly dissipating. The slender fingers of his thoughts reached out painstakingly, but it was impossible for his mind’s grip to remain firm, and they vanished like smoke in the wind, scattered even more quickly by his mental touch. Nevertheless, he continued to struggle to remember, loath to give up his efforts. He felt as if what he yearned for was still possible to find if he concentrated hard enough, and he sensed it lurking somewhere behind the distractions of the moment, within the endless morass of his unconscious mind.
Despite the accelerating downfall of snow, he was sure that he could see the outline of the delicate spire that marked the location of the portal behind him. He smiled to himself slightly as a rush of emotion flooded over him, swathing him in a prickly blanket of both joy and regret. But the feeling was short lived, and just as quickly as it enveloped him, he was perplexed as to why he was even smiling at all.
When he first left Eleutheria he had been so anxious to get back home.
How long have I been wandering? he wondered, the slate of his remembrance now wiped completely clean of the events of the past four months. He shook his head again in confusion, and looked all around. What has happened to me? I feel like I am on the right path, but to where? I thought I knew only moments ago. I want to go back home, to Seramour, but I know that there is something I must do first, he deliberated to himself painstakingly.
He tried to account for the time that had elapsed, but his memory was clouded and obscure. He sensed a passage, a rupture in the continuum between his departure from Eleutheria and now, and he grew frustrated with each effort to resurrect it. As each fleeting image of where he had been for all those days in between was about to come into focus, it slipped away forever, and no effort on his part could bring it back.
He had no trouble envisioning Alemar as she bade him farewell, and he was easily able to recreate the poignant moment when he walked his horse out through those marvelous and massive gates of ice. It was not difficult to picture her brother Kalon’s scowling face as he peered down upon him from the high walls surrounding the city. He could even remember his first evening on the road and how he laughed to himself when he discovered the small package of carefully wrapped, sugared cloudberries that Alemar must have slipped into his pocket before he left. He vowed then and there, as each of the succulent fruits burst upon his tongue, that he would return to his cousin one day and try to assist her in convincing her people and her father most of all, that it was time to rethink their position and to reevaluate their long held beliefs that isolation was the only path for them.
By the First, that brother of hers is such a bore! he thought. And I am being polite. The ends of his delicate lips turned down in a sour scowl as the scenes of his previous encounters with Kalon flashed before him. If he were not my cousin too, I would have thrashed him myself. What I cannot understand is why uncle Whitestar tolerates him. I guess he is his son after all but still! It is so obvious that he is only avoiding having to confront these problems. I suppose he is the King, and he has a right to deal with his subjects, including his own children, in whatever manner he chooses. But, Alemar’s case is the better of the two. Why does he discard it so easily? he continued to reminisce.
The ground was firm and the snow was thick and deep. It seemed colder to him than he remembered when he first left Eleutheria.
Why does it seem as if I have been away for so long already? he thought as he walked his horse carefully down the path. The sun is awfully low in the sky for this time of year. Strange, I don’t recall noticing that before.
As he thought back on the days past, he grew confused once again. There were gaps in his memory, and he was troubled by them.
I feel like I have been somewhere and done something, yet I do not for the life of me know what.
Dalloway brushed his hair from his eyes and was astonished by its length.
How could it have grown this fast? I could have sworn that Alemar cut it just before I departed. I have never liked it hanging upon my shoulders. How odd this is, he thought.
He shifted in his saddle once again and looked back toward Eleutheria. Though he could see nothing but blowing snow, his skin tingled as he stared. He reached across his chest with his free hand in order to brush some snow off of his opposite arm and he felt something shift beneath his cape and tunic. Despite the cold, he removed his glove and stuck his fingers inside his blouse. His hand grasped a medallion hanging from what felt like a rawhide string.
When did I get this? he questioned himself, startled by this discovery. Alemar must have slipped it over my neck before I left. Why did I not notice this before now?
It was slightly warm to the touch as he held it in his hand, and to his great astonishment, he felt it pulse. He heard a distinct humming in his head and he thought for a moment that his ears were failing him. As it grew louder, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his saddle as his head slumped to the side. The reins fell loosely on his horse’s withers. His hand remained firmly fixed upon the pendant as he fell heavily to the ground.
Chapter Three
“Do not seal the chamber yet,” the silver haired man beseeched the others. “He will come. I know it!”
“How long can we wait, Tobias? It is dangerous enough without leaving ourselves exposed like this. If he was going to come, he should have arrived by now. Perhaps he has chosen not to join us,” a high pitched, though clearly male voice replied.
“Or something prevented him from joining us,” another said ominously while stepping forward to stand next to the other two. His hair was deep red like a fine ruby, and freckles played in patterns across his boyish face. “We cannot discount that possibility.”
“Surely we can wait a little while longer, Harton. We have risked so much already, another moment or two will not make that much of a difference,” the beautiful, black-skinned Blodwyn intoned, ignoring for the moment the concern that Connor, Chosen of Catalan, had just raised. “Without him, we cannot accomplish as much as we would like to.”
“Blodwyn is correct, Harton. What matters another few minutes anyway? We are well past the point of no return. If we are found out, nothing will make a difference!” Liam remarked looking down at the stone floor beneath his feet. “I do not like the feel of this,” he said, as he shifted his balance uncomfortably from leg to leg.
“Nor do I!” still another of the Chosen made his opinion clear. “This meeting was ill conceived. We should each have confided in our own. Concerns of this sort should not be shared unless the Lalas themselves choose to reach out to each other,” Pithar, the bond-mate of Marathar said.
“The doorway is still open, Pithar. You are free to leave if you so desire,” Dashiel, Nemaroe’s bond-mate replied rather
nonchalantly, and he pointed to the entryway. “That is, if Harton of Alklyn does not shut it in his haste.” He lifted his regal head and tossed his thick mane of black hair back over his broad shoulders. Looking at the others from behind his serious, grey eyes, he extended himself to his full and impressive height. “I venture to say that this opportunity may never rise again. It would be best if we could all unite behind our good intentions. After all, it is with no malice that we gather together.”
“I have come this far already, and do I suppose that the thread has already been set,” Pithar replied with a sigh. “I cannot eliminate what I have done from the weave. It is there for all to see for evermore. My actions have surely altered the pattern by now. What good would it do to depart at this point?” he replied, shrugging his broad shoulders complacently. “I know that each and every one here has the other’s best interests at heart,” he agreed.
“Then reserve your disappointments for another time. We are all anxious, Pithar. This meeting is unprecedented. It is natural to be concerned,” Blodwyn, the only female in the chamber said as she restlessly smoothed the folds of her shimmering tunic about her hips. “What is done, is done. As you yourself noted, our actions can no longer be taken back. They have surely become a part of what is and what will be.”
“Well spoken, Blodwyn,” Edmond, Chosen of Xia said. “When we first conceived of this gathering, it was already too late. Thoughts come to us unbidden it seems, yet their roots are hidden in the weave as well. We all embraced them, regardless of our doubts, and they have led us here. Save your regrets for those things you have not yet done, not for actions already taken.”
“And for actions attributed to us as well, whether true or not?” Phero asked. “The rumors of Relamon’s demise would be welcome if the horrendous actions attributed to him were true, and surely we would all regret them then.”
“Aye. But were they true, nothing could be done to change them anyway,” Blodwyn replied. “Sadly, it is a reflection on just how great the rift has grown between the trees and the people that something as abominable as what the Possessed one, Margot, concocted is being embraced as fact.”
“The desire for the truth has never motivated the Talamarans. Let them believe what they will,” Pithar scoffed.
“She has done more than persuade them. Even my appearance before the city walls would not alter their beliefs. Relamon has advised me not to attempt to set right their notions now and to dignify Colton’s effort with a denial. It seems easier for my tree to live with this lie than for me,” Phero confessed.
“This state of affairs is unspeakable!” Harton exclaimed in frustration.
“Ten Lalas have left us already. Our ranks have been depleted over the last three tiels to such a degree that communication has even become difficult between those of us who still remain. If not for this gathering, I would never have known that you, Carlisle, feared for your own tree or that the countryside is rife with gossip of your tree’s alleged atrocities, Phero. Perhaps Relamon has a reason for wishing you to remain aloof from the situation, but I can understand how it must hurt you to do so. Way fair tells me much, but it seems that even he cannot reach out to all the others as he once was able to. Until you informed me, I had no idea what had occurred in Talamar,” Crea said.
“Neither did any of you, it appears. What dismays me the most is that these people seem so eager to embrace this lie and denounce the Lalas. Have they drifted so far from the trees so quickly?” Phero asked.
“We are all drifting upon these unsettled waters, my friend. You of all can imagine my plight,” Carlisle responded, shifting his considerable bulk uneasily to his other leg. “My Lalas, Mintar, speaks less and less to me, and his melancholy is wearing my spirit out. I cannot help but feel abandoned at times, yet what am I to do? He professes that he is well, but he is troubled nonetheless, and I do fear for his health. My own welfare is not now my concern. It was a struggle for me to leave him even to come here. But since I made that decision, I would rather that we accomplish something so that I can return with hope in my heart,” he said pleadingly. “By the First, may this venture not be in vain.”
Blodwyn moved to the front of the assemblage and raised her wooden walking stick in the air. She brought it down heavily on the stone floor. The noise echoed throughout the chamber and drew everyone’s attention to her immediately. Wrapped in a cape of brown velvet clasped tightly at her neck by a ruby broach, she was an imposing figure. A braid of thick, dark hair fell almost to the ground behind her, and her gloved hands held her stave tightly. Her face was smooth and ageless, dominated by large, black irises which nearly concealed the whites of her eyes completely.
“We await only one other of us. If he does not arrive within the next half hour, we have no choice but to seal the entrance and attend to our purpose,” she said. “Each moment that we leave ourselves exposed increases the likelihood that we will be discovered.”
“I agree!” Harton chimed in. “I wish to return home as soon as possible. Deceiving Farrow was difficult enough for me,” he said, referring to his tree. “Had it not been for the fact that I know in my heart something has gone terribly wrong, I would never have come here to begin with.”
“There is little here that could betray us. The cavern has been swept clean of all living matter, and the walls are hundreds of feet thick. We are so deep within the mountain that unless someone was followed here or let it be known where he was going, we are safe,” Dashiel said. “You are all too nervous. Since when have the Chosen become so meek?”
“Since when have the Chosen gathered together behind the backs of the Trees?” Liam asked.
“Not one of us here could be happy that it has come to this!” Crea said, angered somewhat by the confessions and concerns of the others. “It is not necessary to profess your worries. We all share them!” he said to the group. “We are here in order to learn and perhaps to help one another. Our motives are noble, and we have no reason to regret our actions.”
“What I regret is that circumstances have led us here!” Edmond replied. “We must all stay focused on the important issues. Our deception was necessary, though this necessity has not diminished the regret for anyone, I am sure. Nonetheless, we are here and we must therefore overcome our emotions.”
A crackling sound caused them all to jump and everyone’s eyes sought out its source instantly. Waves of power flooded the room, as each Chosen searched in his or her own way. In no more than a moment, they were all staring at the entrance whose shimmering portal appeared liquid-like and fragile. The doorway stood before them, hewn into the stone in an irregularly shaped, upside down U. It was sparking now, and there was no doubt that someone or something was attempting to enter.
The eleven formed a semi-circle before the opening and linked hands as if on cue. Sparks flew about the chamber once the link was completed, and then from behind the doorway a light began to shine so brightly that those the Chosen had suspended from the ceiling in order to illuminate the interior paled in comparison. It grew in intensity until they were all squinting from its brilliance.
Blodwyn, standing at the left most point of the link, raised her wooden scepter with her free hand, and held it defiantly before her, unsure of who or what was about to intrude upon their congregation.
“Stand fast, everyone!” she said.
“Have we been found out so soon?” Pithar asked, glowering.
“And if we have been?” Tobias challenged him. “What wrong have we done? We seek only knowledge,” he replied, though a worried expression marred his strong and sharp features.
“Fear not. Our aim is true!” Blodwyn said.
“And if it is the enemy at our gate?” Liam asked.
The others all looked at him as if this thought had not occurred to any of them until he uttered it. They could all feel a distinct vibration penetrating the solid rock of the chamber floor. It rattled their bones and chilled their souls. The portal grew brighter and brighter, and the liquid appearan
ce of its shimmering surface began to stiffen and grow cloudy.
“Prepare, my friends. Whatever it is that approaches is almost upon us,” Crea warned.
“Be ready to seal the opening if we must,” Pithar said.
The vibrations grew more intense by the second, and a loud crack pierced the still air. Sparks flew wildly everywhere, originating from the entrance and shooting in all directions throughout the chamber, then bouncing off the walls and falling upon the cold, stone surface upon which they slowly faded away.
Blodwyn raised her staff higher and a dome of bluish light descended protectively over the group of eleven. As they stood apprehensively behind it staring intensely at the opening, the toe of a booted foot became visible as it stepped through the opaque barrier.
Chapter Four
It was hard to tell for certain just how much time had passed since they carried Tomas into the shelter of the cave. For at least six days, he neither spoke nor even acknowledged the presence of the others. Preston sat diligently by his side all the while, convinced that Tomas knew that he was there. He insisted that he was going to be next to him when his friend needed him the most, and that meant whenever he was ready to speak. So, Preston planted himself and refused to move.
After another few days went by and the boy exhibited no signs that he was imminently regaining his cognizance, Prince Elion and Queen Esta helped Preston carry Tomas deeper into the cave and away from whatever it was that caused the boy to withdraw so fully into himself to begin with. Stephanie, Tomas’ childhood friend, saw to his hygiene and made certain that he was comfortable and kept warm. She sat herself down beside Preston, and together they stood vigil over their troubled friend. There they remained until it was no longer prudent to do so.
Elion ventured back toward their point of entrance, but as he neared it, the stench of death assaulted his nostrils and the air grew putrid and acidic. It was difficult for him to breathe, and he had no choice but to retreat once again. Before he would turn his back on what appeared to be their only means of escape, he fought the terrible burning whenever he took a breath and the stinging and tearing of his eyes, and he inched his way forward. As he neared the opening, he heard loud crashes of thunder, and he saw that the rain was pelting the ground with a violence that shocked him. Lightning illuminated the small doorway in a macabre way, casting streaks of blue and yellow light across the smooth, stone floor. But in the end, it was the odor that ultimately caused him to turn back. Never before had he smelled anything so bad. Even the dying gasps of the Valkor that blanketed the air at the battle of Pardatha were easier to stomach. Elion retched uncontrollably at this onslaught upon his senses, and he turned from the entrance is disgust.
The Shards Page 3