The Awakening (3 page)

Chapter Three

“Relax, my darling. There is no need for you to rise this early. I will take care of the emissary. Take another sip of the tea, it will ease the pain.”

“You are too good to me, Margot. I really am very tired,” he sighed as he half-closed his eyes and reclined upon the enormous bed, resting his head atop the soft, down pillows. “Another hour or so and I will be fine though. I just need a little more time,” Kettin Dumas, the new Duke of Talamar, said while the woman dutifully prepared his tea and brought the steaming liquid to his lips.

“Drink now, my love,” she urged, tipping the mug so that he could sip the brew.

When she was satisfied that he had enough, she pulled up the heavy feather quilts, smoothed them under his chin and tucked him in as she would have done for a small child. The raven-haired woman then gently kissed him on the forehead and departed the room.

From the half open doorway, she leaned her broad face in. “Now don’t you move an inch,” she admonished the young Lord. “I will be very angry with you if you disobey me,” the woman chided him, causing Kettin to smile sheepishly from beneath the heavy blankets.

“Whatever you say, my love. Just promise me you will return before the hour is up,” he replied, and he drifted once more into the dreamless sleep he so enjoyed.

“I will be back as soon as I can, dearest Kettin. You would not want me to insult your friend from Marathar now, would you? He came all this way to negotiate a trade agreement with us and we should really not keep him waiting any longer. I must hasten to his side and be your representative as best as I am able, with your royal permission of course.”

“He wants the oil? Will he pay the price for it?” Kettin inquired.

“He will pay whatever we ask, beloved. After all, there is no other source of Polong oil but ours. What choice does he have if he wishes the lights in Marathar to burn throughout their dark winters?” she replied blithely.

“Yes, he will, I am sure. Definitely negotiate for me pet. I am far too weary. But have we enough for him and our allies as well?” he inquired.

“Allies? Who are our allies? Do you really know, Kettin? We must forge new friendships now that your parents are gone. Trust in me, darling. I would never do anything to hurt you. Have I not proven that to you already?” she asked him, her voice literally dripping with sincerity.

“I do trust you, my love. You have been here for me since that terrible moment. You are the only one that I trust,” he replied, and he laid his head down once more upon the soft pillows.

Immediately after Duke Leonardo and his wife Dorothea died in that terrible fire, Margot arrived. Kettin never bothered to question wherefrom she came. He was satisfied just to have someone to comfort him and guide him. He, in truth, did not want to make all the decisions himself, and Margot was happy to make them for him. But unlike the others, Fobush and his father, she did not judge him. She was more like his mother in that respect and she loved him too. That was certain. She behaved as if she had been there for him his entire life. No one else treated him with such respect. Margot protected him. She made him feel safe.

His father’s friends and aides all, to the one, looked down their noses at him. They never gave him the esteem he deserved. And they were so jealous of Margot. He could not understand why they sneered and scoffed whenever he mentioned the rift with Pardatha and Lord Baladar. He had done everything he could have under the circumstances. Margot was right; he did not know who his friends were. But surely, they did not reside in Pardatha. And perhaps not in Talamar either.

After all
, he thought,
I did what I had to do, having been insulted so blatantly in that foreign court so many months ago. And to have arrived home from the long and tedious journey on the very same day that my parents become trapped in the castle’s study and burn to death before my very eyes. Where was Fobush then? Why did he not save them? And have they no sympathy for a grieving son? Only Margot. She is the only one who respects me
, he sighed, and closed his heavy eyelids once more, barely able to remain awake he was just so tired.

Chapter Four

Crimson fire streaked from his fingers in violent bursts, igniting all in its path. He swayed, trance-like from left to right, and unleashed red ribbons of death indiscriminately in all directions. As if in response, the parched soil erupted near and far, spewing viscous streams of seething fluid which clung to every object that they touched, disintegrating the lot almost instantaneously. Not a living thing lingered upon the plains of desolation surrounding his former home. What little still remained standing of Castle Sedahar was glowing a deep crimson in the twilight hours, silhouetted vividly against the setting sun. Afire from within and without, he watched with a wicked satisfaction as it slowly crumbled upon itself, reduced to nothing more than a great pile of molten sand, sanguine and without form.

Colton dar Agonthea stood upon a small precipice and lashed out with demonic purpose. He was determined to continue until nothing lingered that would be remotely recognizable in his former home. He wished the memories to be extinguished forever and he would not cease until his evil soul was sated. The skies were heavy with death and the stench of it assaulted the very fiber of life that yet abided deep within the soil of this forsaken place. His arms flew from side to side, his long fingers were outstretched and pulsating as he hurled his red and raging fire at whatever entered his field of vision. The heavens churned in response, the earth trembled and what little water still ran or gathered in tepid pools upon this plain of quietus, turned to steam and dissipated into the air, already thick with the debris of his fury.

He would continue his tirade unabated well into the early morning hours of that terrible day. His furor was unbridled and it would not be satiated by the mere destruction of Sedahar. Never before had he been so humiliated. His armies watched him fail and they ran away, surely with the memories of his defeat etched upon their minds’ eyes. They were all cowards. And their understanding of his desires, of his advocacy, was minimal. Dissolution was his goal, his craving and need, and they were merely pawns in his plan. He required them nevertheless, and now he would need to recruit once more and to train and arm and create, and worst of all, again suffer the associations that would be demanded of him if he hoped to find the boy and kill him.

His power was enormous, surely far greater than that of any other man or woman. Yet still, he could not defeat his opponents by himself and the frustration that this knowledge caused him was almost unbearable. The trees still wielded their might and the earth responded to them in spite of everything. The heir was yet alive somewhere, waiting to be trained and brought to his full power. And worst of all, the First surely perceived his approach. Colton always sensed the presence of this, the greatest of the trees, upon the planet, shielded by a darkening he could not pierce. He felt its power and he could almost see the purity of the Gem, pulsating and emanating from within its heart. There was an unexplainable tie binding the two of them together. They felt one another from within and he would locate it yet. He was destined to destroy the wellspring of power that dominated all that he opposed, the First, the protector of the Gem, the fount of all the energy that caused him so much enduring and excruciating pain. He would once and for all put out the light that illuminated this accursed planet, that kept it alive

Even when he was young, the First was a source of conflicted joy. Colton felt its power at all times and he yearned to be near it. Yet, the light that nourished and rejuvenated the other Six, hurt him in a way he could not explain. His yearning matured into a self-absorbed covetousness that excluded all others. He did not wish to share the light, even though his exposure to it became more and more difficult to withstand. Nevertheless, he could neither relax in its warmth and revel in its beauty, nor attain the heights of satisfaction and elation that the others did when its brilliance graced them. He suffered instead, and that misery grew with time until it was unbearable for him to be exposed to the purity and whiteness of the Gem. This wretchedness matured into hatred, until he could think of nothing but destroying the First entirely, and with its demise, hopefully he would extinguish the Gem’s light forever.

Initially, he kept this animosity and loathing secret from his companions, fearing that there was something terribly wrong with him to cause him to respond in that manner. The others experienced no such reaction to the light of the Gem and they avidly absorbed its radiance. He on the other hand, soon cringed at the prospect of being exposed to its power. It eventually caused him only pain and mental anguish, and he grew bitter and resentful of everyone around him for this situation. The Six gloried in their proximity to the potency, while he reviled it.

At one time he confided in Calista, but he regretted his admission immediately and never spoke of it again. She was sympathetic, but she could not begin to understand the depths of his misery. She encouraged him to open his heart to the power, but when he did, it seared him to the bone resulting in an unimaginable amount of agony, the extent of which none could comprehend. He felt his memories being stolen, and though he longed for the peace only dissolution could bring, he couldn’’t bear being the victim of this theft. Pain without memory! Without reason. Without cause. And from that moment on, Calista pitied him. He saw it in her eyes every time she gazed upon his face and he felt it in her soul. That was almost as difficult to endure as the suffering itself.

A tremendous burst of blue fire shot from his outstretched hand, shearing off the top of a large, promontory boulder in the near distance. As it came crashing to the ground, Colton focused his concentration upon the remaining piece and obliterated it with one delicate gesture. He trampled the very soul of the land beneath his malignant feet until it was unrecognizable, reduced to a mass of blackened rubble that would never again accommodate life of any kind. When he was done, when there was nothing left to destroy upon the ground, he raised his arms to the sky and let loose a volley of terrible fire upon the heavens the likes of which the world had not seen since its creation. The noise was deafening, as the skies exploded in billows of emanating death that engulfed the air itself and annihilated even that, leaving a lifeless vacuum in its wake.

Colton dar Agonthea dropped to his knees and lay his blackened palms upon the ruined soil. He searched deep within the earth for any sign of lingering life and as expected, he found none. His eyes scanned the horizon in a slow and sweeping arc and they witnessed no movement, no life whatsoever. He had accomplished his task.

He gazed across the valley, behind him to the site that once was castle Sedahar and before him into the barren gorge. He observed nothing but a tablet void of all markings, a barren canvas erased thoroughly and completely by his power, sterile and without features. He would write new words upon the wall of today, his wall.

As he contemplated the future, he lay his head down and closed his weary eyes upon the new day. But, a yearning crept into his cold heart and would not dissipate regardless of his efforts to curtail it. It took hold of his spirit and he writhed in anguish from the pain, unable to rest even for a moment. He fought with the feelings until he could fight no longer.

“I will find you and destroy you,” he screamed into the desolate heavens while propping himself up upon his two arms. “My time has come and yours is almost at an end. The fabric unravels faster than you can mend it. Soon, I will be free of you forever and you will no longer cause me any pain.”

He rose to his knees with an agonizing effort once more and opened his hideous mouth wide. From that gaping hole, a sound issued forth that was so frightening, so horrible, so totally inhuman that it could have sundered the spirit of the greatest of warriors instantly if he or she had been near enough to hear it. Only the First would have recognized the sorrowful lament for what it truly was. The ghastly wail hung thickly upon the dead air, and then finally faded with the slowly emerging morning sun that seemed to be rising so tentatively in the eastern sky.

Chapter Five

The group of friends gathered around the burgeoning sapling in the clearing just outside of the Noban gates on the banks of the River of Tears. The sound of the rushing water played harmoniously upon the breezes, and the air smelled of spring and new life. Each of the travelers was possessed by his or her own thoughts, inspired by the moment, as their respective gazes and minds settled upon the objects and images that called out to their own individual hearts. A sorrowful sigh escaped the pale lips of Filaree Par D’Avalain as she contemplated the spot where her beloved friend Cameron fell only two months ago. Prince Elion held her arm tightly and comforted her as best as he could. His thoughts flickered from the sad memories of the recent past to those of Seramour and the unconscious boy under his parent’’s protection.

Baladar, Lord of Pardatha, admired with pride the newly polished gates and quiet strength of his city, a place that had provided refuge and sustenance to a population driven with fear only a short while ago, and a satisfied melancholy took hold of his soul at the thought of all that had been won and all that had been lost.

Cairn and Preston sat beside the young tree, staring at a wooden gaming board covered with lifelike carvings that were moving slowly around and around, their eyes locked upon the activity before them, hoping to discern the patterns in the weave. Fifteen paces to the north, Calyx, the giant Moulant, stood with his snout in the air and his brilliant fur flashed silver and golden in the morning sun while he searched for a sign upon the calm winds of the pale dawn. Only the eyes of the Chosen, Robyn dar Tamarand were directed southwards and the look upon his face, though concealed from the others, was circumspect and restless, darkened by something unseen and unheard.

Tomas stood with his hand upon the fragile trunk of the tree and with the tenderness and respect that a young Lalas deserved, he closed his eyes and fed upon the energy that flowed within. The youthful tree responded to his caress, its leaves fluttered and spread themselves wider, its branches stretched and upraised and its color darkened and grew healthier and more vibrant. Tomas had previously planted the seeds on the spot that Cameron fell after Colton dar Agonthea was forced back to Sedahar and Calista, the Lady of the Island, gave her life to save Pardatha. Ormachon, his own tree, had bestowed them upon him with the simple instructions to sow them where and when his spirit moved him to do so.

This was the first Lalas to sprout anew in many, many tiels and its growth was a continual source of hope for everyone who saw it or heard about it. The people of the land were sadly growing accustomed to the idea that the Lalas were a dying breed and despite the unhappiness and sorrow that their demise was causing, they were all trying to reconcile themselves to the tragic losses. But now, miraculously, a new tree had sprouted. It was more than anyone could have hoped for during these dark and trying times. And despite the recent victories, the land still suffered and they all knew that the battle had only just begun. A young Lalas in their midst was a beacon of hope, a pure and piercing white light in a vast cavern of formerly impenetrable darkness.

As the glowing orb of the new sun rose to a point fully above the horizon, Tomas abruptly retracted his hands from the tree. He turned sharply to the south and with his beautiful green eyes partially closed, he settled into a trance-like state. Robyn too continued to stare with empty eyes in the same direction, motionless and barely even breathing. The others noticed their friends’ poses after a short while and soon realized that they were not simply admiring the brand-new morning. Something was amiss.

Calyx bounded to Cairn’s side and nuzzled him with his broad snout. The scholar was so enraptured in his endeavor that he barely noticed the big animal’s persistence. Finally, Calyx nearly lifted him from under his arm in order to get his attention, at which point Cairn hastily recognized the great cat’s concern. He too turned his eyes upon the southern sky and a new and disturbing awareness immediately overtook him.

Baladar had hoped to spend a relaxing final morning with his companions before they set off for Seramour. Earlier, he had tired himself out somewhat by removing the spell from Davmiran that he had set upon the young boy’s arrival in Pardatha. It mattered little while he was harbored in Seramour with the elves. But when the others arrived, they would need to be able to see him in order to assist him. He recalled vividly how upset he had been when Davmiran disappeared and he thought that he might die alone and bereft of human help due to the fact that no human could visibly detect him. But as luck or fate would have it, Elion came upon him and rescued him. When he cast the spell in order to protect him, he never thought to conceal him from the other races too. That oversight turned out to be the luckiest mistake he had ever made.

Suddenly as if stricken, he spun around sharply and focused all of his attention southward, toward Sedahar and Colton, his calm soul chilled to the bone.

What is happening?
he wondered.

Filaree and Elion by now had joined the others as well, and they too stared blindly down the River of Tears toward the Dark Lord’s domain. The warrior Princess and the elf stood side by side, the lady’s hand atop the shoulder of her companion, and without words they shared their new concerns, unsure as yet of just what was transpiring.

Calyx was the first to respond to the faint sound that eventually reached everyone’s ears. He raised his broad snout to the sky and howled in response. His sorrowful wail echoed up and down the valley. Neither Tomas nor Robyn moved a muscle in reaction, but undoubtedly everyone shortly heard the disturbing noise emanating from the southern reaches. Preston instinctively ran to his young friend and stood as close to him as he could, intuitively seeking his protection and the comfort that being by his side afforded him. Soon they had all gathered closely together, forming a semicircle with Tomas and Robyn in the middle.

The wail did not grow in volume, but it shortly pierced the souls of all who were present that morning. It reminded them all, by virtue of its intensity and mordant intonation, of why they were together and what they needed to do. Without any words being spoken between them, the sound alone reinforced the ties that bound them all. It solidified them in purpose, despite the cold and deadly chill that it aroused within each traveler. Not one of the eight would cease his or her efforts until Colton was no longer a danger to anyone. It was imperative and never more obvious than at that moment, with all of them standing around the new tree, the youngling, the youngest wonder, while listening to the cry of the harbinger of death and dissolution. The contrast was stark and revealing. A new fount of hope flourished before them, while demise and decimation beckoned from the south.

“His reach extends beyond his own realm,” Robyn remarked, eyes suddenly black as pitch while staring at the ground before him.

“The path of the dead grows longer,” Tomas echoed. “He has destroyed all that was his own.”

“I sense the struggle upon the boundaries. Life gives way,” the Chosen from Tamarand said entranced.

The others stood motionless and watched and listened. They could not see the same things that Tomas and Robyn did, but they felt them nonetheless. They only required the Chosen and Tomas to give verbal shape to their own frightening and incoherent perceptions. The sensations became clear once the words were uttered.

“We must make haste. Time is no longer a commodity we can squander,” Cairn commented.

“It never was, scholar,” Filaree responded without malice, her hand resting warily upon the hilt of her sword.

“Let us gather our belongings and prepare for our journey,” Robyn concluded, averting his head away from the direction in which they must eventually turn.

The group began to gather itself together and make its way stoically to the gates. Tomas remained rigid still and unmoving.

“Will you not join us? The sun will be strong anon and we should tarry no longer,” Elion observed gently.

“He longs for the First,” Tomas whispered. “The struggle is causing him great pain,” he continued as if to himself.

The others turned to him one by one upon hearing those words.

“He longs to destroy the First, I think you mean,” Preston said defiantly.

“No, my friend. It is not hate he feels. He may need to destroy the First in order to be free of his suffering, but it is disjoining what little still remains of his humanity from his tortured soul to contemplate that,” the young boy conveyed, calm and steady. “He will have no peace until his task is accomplished. The conflict is tearing him apart. The First is in grave danger even now.”

Filaree stood up straight. “It will never be accomplished. We will find the First and liberate the Gem once more from whatever prevents it from shining through. He must be precluded from going north.”

“You are very confident, as usual, my Lady,” Elion replied. “Are you so certain that the First abides in the northern reaches? Besides, is not your commission to educate and prepare the heir? Is there also time to quest for the Gem and stop Colton in his tracks?”

“We cannot just allow him to begin his own quest while we take the time to train an inexperienced and unprepared young boy. We must do something,” she responded in her usual, obstinate manner.

“The fabric weaves of its own will, Lady Filaree. In educating Davmiran, are we not questing in our own way?” Cairn inquired.

“You are wise to look at it in that way,” Robyn interjected. “We do what we must when we must. Without our help, the boy asleep in Seramour will never reach his potential. If we fail to teach him all that he needs know, then we aid the Dark Lord more than if we ignored his threat altogether. Do not underestimate the importance of the Twins, my Lady,” he rejoined gently.

“Alas, sometimes we tread a path other than the one we might choose to if we were unconstrained. But your primary purpose is to awaken Davmiran and prepare him for that which we cannot achieve alone,” Baladar said, speaking for the first time since Colton’s disfigured power once again manifested itself before the gates of Pardatha. “It is so written my friends, and you cannot allow anything to distract you from your task. You were summoned for one reason, and although you have boldly and courageously realized so much else already, the one which called you initially has not yet been addressed.”

Tomas listened to all that was said with one eye upon the direction from whence the harrowing sound came and the other upon his companions.

“He speaks truly. As long as my brother remains ineffectual, we cannot hope to defeat Colton. Each moment you tarry brings Colton closer to finding him unprepared. You cannot allow that to happen,” Tomas said.

Robyn dar Tamarand looked quizzically upon the young boy’s solemn face, searching for something beneath the surface and behind the words he had just spoken. He sensed something strange in his voice, yet he could not decipher it. Tomas caught his eye and smiled for just an instance, putting him at ease, yet a nagging feeling that the boy was withholding something pressed upon his senses.

“Come, let us prepare swiftly now. Tomas is right. We must leave immediately,” Robyn commented, scrutinizing the boy’s face again for a sign that would explain his own consternation, though he was once more unrequited in his endeavor.

The boy smiled such a beautiful and heart-warming smile, alleviating his concern temporarily, and Robyn hastened the group forward allowing his trepidation to recede.

“The horses have been readied and the supplies that you will need have been prepared and stowed. Shall I call for them now?” Baladar inquired.

“Yes, it is time,” Robyn answered for them all without consultation, though none disagreed as if they were of one mind.

Baladar turned and walked toward the Noban gates, steady and determined, yet his heart was heavy with the thought of the leave taking. He believed that his decision to remain in Pardatha was the correct one, nonetheless. In a short time he had grown accustomed to the company of this portentous group, and he had developed a fondness for his new friends the likes of which he had not experienced since the passing of his wife, Briland. It was discomforting to see them go.

He turned his head briefly to gaze upon them as a group once more before they prepared to depart. Tomas, his wispy, blonde hair blowing in the morning breeze, appeared fragile to the eye, yet he exuded an uncommon strength and sense of well-being. He was as deep as a well and never ceased to surprise them all with his intuitiveness and insight. He matured by the minute. Cairn with Calyx by his side, the serious schoolmaster, careful and concerned, was the picture of no nonsense and determination, a rock amidst the shifting sands of life. Filaree Par D’Avalain was fierce and beautiful all at once, sure of herself, headstrong, yet sensitive and intelligent. Her very presence was a formidable obstacle to anyone with evil intentions, always ready, always hopeful. Preston the too-tall dwarf, was still a puzzle to Baladar in his sheer simplicity. His role was yet to be clarified, but he had grown not just in stature during his brief stay in Pardatha. His casual and comfortable relationship with Tomas belied an understanding between the two that Baladar was confident would affect the weave in its own time. Elion, Prince of the southern elves, had developed well beyond the tired and flustered traveler that he was when he first arrived to convey his ‘apologies’ for spiriting Davmiran away to what turned out to be the safest place he could have taken him. He was a gallant elf and a tenacious fighter, honest beyond a doubt, a combination that would serve him well in the coming tiels. And finally, Robyn dar Tamarand, the enigma of the group, the handsome Chosen whose power could not be concealed or ignored. His sensibilities were far more acute than anyone who had abided in Pardatha heretofore, and despite his reclusive behavior, he exhibited a natural ability to lead without engendering animosity in those who were called upon to follow.

Yes
, Baladar thought to himself contentedly,
I have chosen well. They will do what they must.