The Awakening (37 page)

“She was right, you know,” Tomas said as they proceeded to leave the enclave of trees.

Esta looked at him with her head askew, in a questioning manner.

“About Filaree, I mean. Your daughter. She is quite well,” he remarked, so confidently that it seemed as if he knew it for a fact.

“You know my daughter?” she replied, though strangely she was not surprised. “How can you be so certain?” Esta asked, though she trusted him thoroughly even before she heard his reply.

“She is with my brother now. I cannot be mistaken about that,” he declared, as if this was an explanation in itself.

“I believe you,” Esta replied, gripping his slender arm tightly. “I do believe you,” she repeated, and she questioned him no further as they stepped onto the path that wound through the woods to the ruins of Trevor and Safira’s cottage.

Stephanie learned quickly to accept the unusual people and incredible circumstances that surrounded Tomas. She always knew that he was different from the others. His faraway looks, his astonishing sensitivity, the calm way in which he always dealt with problems that would upset her so terribly even when they were playing children’s games, and most of all his profound relationship with all things living, whether sentient or not, convinced her many years ago that he was not an ordinary boy. Now here she was, standing with Parsifal, the leader of the illustrious and renowned Knights of Avalain, Elion, Prince of Lormarion, and Preston, a dwarf of noble birth, no older than she was herself but already as tall as a human.

The tragic death of the maiden named Marne still upset her, but she was stricken by how stoically they all accepted it. There were no hysterics, no hand wringing and uncontrolled weeping. In a way, she wondered how much they must all have suffered previously in their lives to be able to bear this event as gently as they did, or else they were incredibly strong. It was clear to her that they were all deeply moved by what happened, especially the Queen, but she was so composed under these terrible conditions that Stephanie instantly respected her, and felt proud to be amongst them all.

“Where have they gone?” she asked Preston of the rest of the group.

“Tomas led her to a place he felt she might want to bury her friend,” he replied, having overheard their conversation before they departed.

“She is the Queen of Avalain, is she not?” Steph asked, just to reassure herself.

“Yes. And her daughter looks just like her, though she behaves a bit more impetuously,” he said, smiling to himself.

“You know her well?”

“Quite well,” he boasted, enjoying just a little bit the prominence he felt. “We fought in the battle of Pardatha together. Before we met you, we traveled as a group. They went to Seramour and we came north, up here.”

“Oh,” Stephanie replied, thoroughly impressed. “Is that where Tomas’ brother is?” she asked.

“Yes again. Prince Elion transported him there before the war, luckily, or should I say, fortunately for him.”

Stephanie and Preston continued talking for quite some time while they waited for Tomas and the Queen to return. Of nearly the same age, they were comfortable together, and they became fast friends under these trying circumstances. She asked what she wanted to and he answered her as best as he could. Preston then questioned her about Tomas, as he too was anxious to learn as much about his comrade as he could.

Elion and Parsifal also found common ground upon which they could exchange ideas and knowledge. The Knight related to him how he found the woman and where the remainder of his men had gone. With Margot here, threatening them so recently, his troops could be doing no more than waiting outside the gates of Talamar, he speculated. Duke Kettin was ill equipped to engage them either verbally or in combat. Parsifal was anxious to join them though, as he knew the evil woman would shortly be back there and they were now directly in the path of her rage. He was certain she would not hesitate to wreak her revenge upon them, if she could.

“Perhaps we can accompany the Queen back to Avalain,” Elion offered, though without consulting his friends first. “I do not really know where we planned to go to from here anyway. Our plans keep changing. Let me talk to Tomas and Preston. Then you could go on to Talamar.”

“I would not leave the Queen in hands less capable than your’s and your friends’,” he replied bowing his head. “She would be safe with you, no doubt.” He laughed slightly. “She came here for information about her daughter, Filaree. Though you were not the ones she anticipated would provide it, you may have that opportunity to do so nonetheless. At least all was not in vain. Marne’s loss struck her deeply. There was no other in all of Avalain upon whom she relied so heavily in her daughter’s absence.”

“The fabric weaves of its own will,” Elion said, sounding much like Tomas for a moment. “Our meeting here was fated to occur. These events cannot happen by mere chance. The trees still draw us all into their web,” the elfin Prince summarily responded.

“Chance is but a word we use when we have no others to explain the events of our lives with,” Parsifal commented. “Though I do not believe that all we do is by prior design. The human heart creates its own unique set of circumstances.”

“How true. We are drawn to people and things, and we are pushed away from others for reasons we cannot always explain. Yet, not all of those reasons are attributable to the trees alone,” Elion replied. His eyes took on a faraway look for a moment. “I spent quite a bit of time with Cairn, the scholar, in Pardatha after you returned to Avalain. He is quite learned. More importantly, he is extremely wise, for knowledge without wisdom can be more harmful than propitious. We often discussed the theory of free will. I think that we are influenced by many things, some stronger than others. But perhaps the most efficacious impact is derived from our own intuitive understanding of what is right and what is wrong. It is the choice to follow that path or not that makes us free.”

“When one knows what is right and one does not pursue it, he or she becomes vulnerable. Many a time, I have seen a good man turn bad by virtue of simply not following his instincts. Once denied, they become far easier to contravene the next time. The door to Colton’s domain gapes balefully in front of such choices. Free will is a double-edged sword,” Parsifal said.

“Well spoken, Sir Knight. In fact, it is our ability to choose that damns us more often than not. Simply knowing right from wrong is not enough.”

“Do you think that people such as the Lady Margot could see that the options they were electing would lead them to such evil places?” Parsifal asked.

“She no doubt took the first step on her own initiative, for selfish reasons. Once her mind was open and vulnerable, she was doomed. But alas, she must have invited the corruption by her own actions. She desired more than she could attain otherwise,” Elion surmised.

“It is hard for me to comprehend,” Parsifal replied downcast.

“For me as well, Sir Knight. I would rather die than forsake my values, for if I did then life would be empty of meaning, and I could not suffer my own company,” Elion proclaimed honestly.

“We are of one mind, Prince Elion,” Parsifal responded, and he clasped the elf’s hand with his own and slapped him upon the back so exuberantly that he practically knocked him to the ground. Elion righted himself and then he laughed aloud, while he pumped the Knight’s hand vigorously in response.

Soon, Tomas and Queen Esta returned to the clearing, but both were pensive and solemn. Before they said a word, Tomas disappeared in the direction of Ormachon. Esta had meanwhile asked Parsifal to carry Marne’s body to the location that Tomas had shown to her moments before.

Tomas rejoined the group after a short time, and in his hand he carried a small twig, green and bare, except for a single silver leaf sprouting from the end. Together they followed in the Knight’s footsteps, stopping beside a small tree near the charred remains of a humble cottage. There they laid Marne to rest, after which a short and earnest ceremony was conducted, presided over by the Queen herself.

Tomas spread the first mound of dirt upon the open grave, and each of the others followed suit until the ground was level once again. He then walked to the freshly dug grave and placed the branch a few inches into the soil by the maiden’s head. Immediately, it burst into bloom despite the fact that its season had long passed. Small silver leaves appeared up and down the slender shaft, and from the head of the grave to the foot, a web of luminous tendrils wove themselves intricately into the soil.

“She has returned to whence she came,” Tomas said aloud. “May the First protect her and keep her.”

“Aye to that,” Parsifal echoed.

The Queen knelt momentarily upon the soft soil beside the head of the grave. She placed both her palms down on the ground and bowed her head. In silence, they watched as a single tear fell from her porcelain face upon the incandescent netting that protectively encased the grave where Marne’s head would have been. As the droplet touched the surface, an indentation appeared, allowing it to retreat into the soil without dissipating, and then as quickly as the fissure appeared, it was gone.

Queen Esta of Avalain rose and gratefully looked around the circle of new and old friends that were gathered there. As her gaze journeyed from one solemn set of eyes to the next, lingering only for an instant on each, an unspoken bond was solidified amongst them all. She knew then that Marne’s death was not in vain, but in fact it introduced a new thread to the fabric that would forever change the pattern of the cloth. For the first time in a long while, she smiled.

Chapter Forty-one

“We must go now!” Alemar urged Clovis and Giles, though they needed no prodding to depart. The ground in the cavern was trembling already, and it was difficult enough just to remain upon one’s feet. They made their way through the passage that the Seedkeepers had directed them to, and then rushed down the narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel away from the massive chamber. Alemar looked back only once before entering the passageway and her heart sank like a stone. The mighty rocks of the cavern wall were dislodging themselves and tumbling down upon the moss covered floor. The last thing that she saw before the swirling dust obscured her vision was Mother and Father, holding hands as their world crashed down around them. But the fleeting image that would remain etched upon her mind’s eye forever was of the smiles upon the two benevolent creatures’’ faces.

Clovis was the last to enter the tunnel, and the moment after his feet were safely upon the rock surface, he was thrown forcibly forward. He crashed into Giles, who tumbled, head over heels into Alemar. All three lay upon the hard surface, covering their eyes and ears, while struggling against the powerful winds that howled all around them.

“Hold on to each other,” Giles yelled through the melee. “Together we weigh enough to maintain our position.”

Alemar grasped a rock which protruded from the wall with one hand and clasped Giles arm with her other, as the wind rushed over them, covering them all with a thick coating of dust and dirt. The clamor was earsplitting, and the trembling grew stronger.

“I think we had best try to reach the outside before we are trapped here forever,” Alemar shouted over the din.

“Let me go first, then,” Giles said, inching his way forward. He passed Alemar’s hand carefully to Clovis, never releasing it for even a moment, and then he grasped her other free arm. “Hold on tight and stay low. The smaller the surface we expose to the winds, the more stable we will be,” he warned.

Creeping along the ground, the three elves inched their way down the long corridor that had been carved into the stone of the mountain. It was almost impossible to see, as dirt obscured the remaining light streaming into the twisting tunnel from the cavern. They were soon engulfed in total darkness, while the winds still wailed and the walls and floor shook violently.

“The whole mountain is collapsing!” Alemar yelled.

“It is, Princess,” Clovis hollered back.

“We had best move as fast as we can, if we want to get out of here before it is too late,” Giles warned.

They hurried through the darkness, following Giles’ lead. He used his free hand to navigate through the space, though he was still bumping into the walls as he tried to move along as quickly as possible. He was sure his hand was bloodied by now and he was glad that he could not see it, but he kept them moving nonetheless.

“I think I can see a light up ahead,” he shouted at his friends after they rounded a sharp turn in the tunnel.

“Yes, I see it too,” Alemar echoed.

The air was not quite as thick with dust now as it had been earlier, but instead it was heavy with moisture that was humid and rank smelling. They could practically feel it, as if it was hanging upon them and draping them in a liquid sheath. Their clothing was drenched by this time and it stuck to their skin, making their movement even more difficult, and the floor too was covered in an icy film. They slid as they walked, tripping and stumbling constantly.

“I think we are almost at the end,” Giles said. “Keep moving,” he yelled as he picked himself up off of the hard, wet surface once again.

A tremendous crash echoed down the passageway, so powerful that they could feel it tremble through the rock itself. A moment later, a gust of acrid air blew fiercely into them, throwing them forward wildly, only this time the slippery surface made it impossible for any of them to maintain their footing. Additionally, the pathway had begun to veer downward as it wound its way to the mountain wall. They began to slide and skate precipitously toward the light, gaining speed and momentum as they moved, with the wind beating heavily upon their backs, and the sweating ice beneath them was as slick as could be.

The passage twisted and turned, but they managed to navigate it like they did their sleds upon the luge when they were all young and played in the ice gullies outside of Eleutheria. They no longer attempted to walk or stand upright, for that was an impossibility. Following Giles lead, they sat upon the slippery surface with their legs outstretched before them and clamped tightly together, and their arms upon their laps. Deftly, they pushed off the hard walls by shifting their weight, and they maneuvered their bodies left and right, as they sped downwards, gaining momentum with each section of ground they traversed. The light was almost bright enough by now to see the curves ahead, and the surface was wetter and far slicker than previously as they neared what they could only imagine was the end of the tunnel.

Giles reached the end first, and he was traveling so quickly that it was impossible for him to slow his advance. He burst out of the opening in the mountainside, like a rock thrust from a catapult, and went sailing through the air. Alemar was the next one to shoot out of the passageway, sailing high into the sky, heading for the snow banks in the distance. Close behind her Clovis appeared, though he was tumbling dangerously. The big elf had hit the edge of the last curve in the tunnel, and it sent him spinning uncontrollably just as he reached the end. Rather than exit in a lofted arc, his body careened out of the opening and plunged precipitously to the ground below.

Alemar landed in a mound of soft, wet snow that cushioned her fall. Her hands were scraped and sore, but otherwise she was unharmed. She stood up quickly and scanned the area around her, searching for her friends. A fleeting feeling of panic gripped her for a moment, as she reached inside her tunic for the pouch containing the seeds. When her fingers touched the soft fabric that held the precious pods, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Alemar? Are you alright?” she heard Giles comforting voice call out from somewhere in the near distance, though it did sound rather muffled.

“Yes, I am fine,” she replied. “But where are you? I cannot see you.”

He had landed further out than she had, where the snow was even thicker and softer.

“Keep walking. I can see you now. I need a little help getting out of this,” he answered.

Alemar could not help but laugh when she finally saw where the voice was coming from. He had landed so hard, that he was practically buried beneath the heavy flakes. His head and shoulders protruded from the white snow, and he was working his arms out as well when she joined him.

“It is so wet that it makes movement difficult,” he explained sheepishly.

“Lucky for you it is soft. This area used to be completely frozen over,” she said, surveying the terrain around her. “For me as well. If we had landed on hard ice, our bodies would have been crushed from the impact,” she observed, and then she knelt down beside him to help dig him out. “I wonder where Clovis ended up.”

“I do not think he landed this far out. It seemed to me that he dropped pretty sharply, unlike you and me,” Giles commented.

“You saw him then?” she questioned.

“I think so. I was sort of stuck, and I happened to land facing the mountain. I know that I saw you exit. It looked to me as if Clovis’ ride was a bit bumpier than ours.”

Alemar had finished uncovering Giles’ hands, and then she grabbed hold of them and pulled him out from the slushy morass. The hole he had made immediately fell in upon itself as he exited it, it was so wet and heavy.

“By the First, the air is damp,” she remarked furrowing her brow.concerned.

“And warm,” Giles added. “I thought it was me.”

“No, it is not. The air is decidedly warm. Everything around here is melting,” Alemar observed. “We had best find Clovis as quickly as we can,” she said, her fears beginning to mount, having not heard his voice shout out yet.

Together they walked back toward the mountainside, searching for their friend. If Giles was correct, Clovis would have landed much closer to the slope than they had. Climbing the hill was difficult with the snow as wet as it was, and their legs grew tired and cramped quickly.

“This is not easy,” Giles remarked.

“He must be around here somewhere,” Alemar commented, scanning the terrain. “I cannot believe how much everything has melted in the short while we were in the Caves of Carloman,” she commented. And then the alarming thought occurred to her that the lake below had probably thawed as well, and thereby released the spirits trapped beneath it. “Where can Clovis be?” she said uneasily.

The water was cascading down the mountainside, creating fissures and rivulets and seeping into the ground, easily splitting the once hardened bedrock of ice below the soft snow surface. The air was so thick with moisture that it was hard to breathe.

“I think I see him,” Giles yelled. “Quickly. It is Clovis,” he signaled, and he was running as fast as he could through the quagmire of slush and frozen water.

Alemar overtook her companion, being lighter of foot, and she reached Clovis’ motionless body before Giles did. She bent to his aid immediately, trying to assess how badly he was wounded by his precarious fall. He was not conscious, but his breath was steady and strong. All of his limbs were pointing in the right directions, and despite numerous cuts and bruises, he appeared to be in one piece.

“He must have hit his head on those ice blocks over there,” Giles said, as he reached her side. “Can you tell if he is alright?”

“He seems to be, even though he was knocked out by the fall. I do not think anything is broken,” she said, carefully feeling for injuries. “He has quite a bump on the back of his head,” she discovered, cradling it gently in her hands. She ripped a piece of cloth off of the bottom of her jacket, and then placed a smooth piece of ice inside it. Wrapping it neatly, she held it against the wound. With her free hand, she gathered up some wet snow and rubbed it on her friend’s cheeks and forehead. Wearily, Clovis opened his eyes.

“Oh, that hurts,” he said quietly, squinting tightly from the pain. “What happened?” he asked, trying to move and wincing from the effort.

“You landed badly, my friend,” Giles responded, relieved that his injuries appeared to be superficial.

“I certainly did,” he replied, grimacing.

“You were very fortunate that you touched down where you did. You could have hit those rocks over there,” Alemar said, pointing a few yards away at an outcropping of stone that was fully exposed by the rushing water.

“What a mess,” he said as he looked around and tried to sit up.

“I think you had better take your time. You have a nasty bump on the back of your head. Let the ice bring down the swelling before you attempt to stand,” Alemar admonished him.

“By the looks of it, I do not think we have too much time to waste,” he rejoined.

As soon as Clovis was able to, he rose to his feet assisted by Giles and Alemar. He appeared to be strong enough to walk on his own, and they were all eager to be moving along.

“Are we anywhere near where we left the horses?” Giles asked. “The air’s so thick with mist, I can hardly tell where I am.”

“I doubt it. I really do not recognize anything. But that could be because so much snow has melted. The landscape is quite different now than it was before. Besides, it is almost impossible to see more than a few yards ahead,” Alemar commented. “Do you see how the fog gathers just above the ground? The snow is melting quickly.”

“My horse will come to me if he hears my whistle,” Clovis said, and he put his fingers to his mouth. He blew a loud, high pitched note, and then immediately scowled in pain. “Ouch,” he said, reaching for the bump on the back of his head.

In a matter of minutes, they could hear the distinct sound of a horse’s hooves clapping across the rocks and ice.

“I told you he would come if he was in hearing distance,” Clovis said proudly.

Soon, not one, but all three of their steeds found their way back to them, no worse for wear after having roamed the hills on their own for the past number of days.

“How long do you think we were in the Caves anyway?” Giles asked.

“Two days perhaps. Three at most,” Alemar answered, grabbing Shira tenderly by her mane, as the bridle and reins were no where to be found.

“It is extraordinary how much the terrain has changed in such a short time. I wonder what is going on in Eleutheria,” he said, giving voice to the concern that was on all of their minds.

“We will have to contend with what we find on the Pass of the Righteous first,” the Princess declared, climbing onto the back of her horse. “Have you forgotten already what we encountered on our way to the Caves?” she asked.

“How could we have? The images of those poor soldiers trapped beneath the ice has not left me for a moment. But, if they were released from beneath the ice already, do you think they will still be there?” Clovis asked.

“Maybe not. I imagine that they will have no sense of how much time has passed. Besides, Iscaron does not know the fate of Alicea, his daughter,” she said. “Perhaps he will continue on his quest and head for the caves. Or more likely, he will lead the army back to Eleutheria, thinking her already dead.”

“If they head for the caves, they will not get very far,” Giles commented, reminding them all of what they just left behind. “There will be no way to enter the mountain by now, and the great cavern is probably no more than a mound of fallen stones,” he said.

The image of the gentle Seedkeepers flickered in Alemar’s mind, standing together, hand in hand, watching their world come to an end. She was saddened by it, yet she knew in her heart that their lives were fulfilled when they turned over the seeds to her. She reached instinctively once again for the pouch at her belt and felt it warm in her hand.

“We will soon find out,” Alemar said. “There is no other way for us to return to Eleutheria. If we cannot cross the Pass, we will be stranded here. And by the looks of things, we will shortly be swimming rather than walking,” she replied, looking all around.