The Great Tree of Avalon (31 page)

Tamwyn, who was jabbing a willow branch at a hovering ghoulaca, shot him an astonished glance. “What? Are you mad? It’s no time for tricks!”

Then, all at once, he understood. Maybe, just maybe . . . with the strong starlight pouring through the gaps in the trees, he could make some fire—fake fire. And hurl it at the killer birds.

He held his branch high so that its tip caught the light. Never before had he tried to make a trick fire with anything so big—let alone while he was under attack. The biggest one he’d ever done was the knot of wood shavings he’d thrown at Elli. But he had to try! If Fairlyn’s swinging arms could just hold off the ghoulacas long enough . . .

He focused on the glowing wood, willing it to grow brighter. And brighter. And brighter still.
Be a flame!
he called to it.
Be a burning star!

The tip of his branch suddenly sparked—and then exploded in mock fire. A ghoulaca that had swooped too close screeched in fear and tried to veer aside. With a whoop, Tamwyn charged after it, brandishing his stick that seemed to be aflame. Other ghoulacas, sensing some new danger, halted their attack.

Then the fire went out. Tamwyn cursed and and trained his thoughts again on the branch. But this time he was standing fully exposed, without Fairlyn’s waving arms to shield him. Hard as he tried, he couldn’t concentrate. The ghoulacas were still hesitating, frightened by what they’d seen, but he knew it would not last long.

Burn, you!
he commanded. Yet not even a faint glow appeared.

He threw the branch aside. “Follow me!” he cried to the others. “Into the trees!”

Fairlyn, still waving wildly, reached down an arm to help Llynia to her feet. Elli grabbed Nuic, while the hoolah grabbed a last handful of pebbles. All of them ran after Tamwyn, who had plunged through the willows. The ghoulacas screeched and attacked again, slashing their talons furiously.

In desperation, Tamwyn scanned the forest for the thickest growth. There! A stand of midsize spruces, mixed with some broad, leafy trees. He ran that way—even though he knew that a few trees wouldn’t hold back their assailants for long.

Bursting through the spruce branches, he tried frantically to find better cover. Then he heard a cry from Llynia. One of Fairlyn’s broken branches had caught on a tree! He turned and raced back. It took both his hands—and Llynia’s, too—to free Fairlyn’s limb. By that time, the ghoulacas were practically on top of them, snapping branches just above their heads.

“Look!” cried Elli. She pointed to a pair of dark, berry-laden trees among the spruces. Mountain ash! And flowing fast from that direction, a rolling bank of thick gray mist.

Tamwyn’s eyes met Elli’s. Both knew this was the end of their journey, the end of everything. Just as the mist covered them, Tamwyn wished he could have done better—with his fire trick, as well as his guiding. And most of all, with his short, wasted life.

Everything went dark, as dark as the vanished stars. As dark as a dead torch.

PART III

29
•
The Hand of Greeting

Tamwyn blinked, even as the thick mist submerged him. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and could only feel the heavy wetness of the blanketing fog.
By the Thousand Groves! I’m still alive!

Clearly, this mist was very different from the deadly variety the travelers had met before, among the mountain ash trees. This mist was more physical, almost a solid thing . . . with a will of its own. It tugged on them, leading them irresistibly—to where, none could guess.

Tamwyn tried to pull free, to force his legs to move in a different direction. But the pull of the mist was far too strong. He stumbled along, tripping over roots and branches, his quartz bell clinking against his water gourd. This mist was taking him wherever it wanted. Maybe it didn’t knock him out, as the other one had, but it still seemed every bit as dangerous.

Then, all at once, the mist cleared. Like a veil of vaporous threads it pulled apart, leaving thousands of luminous shreds in the air. Starlight, shining through the wisps of tearing mist, seemed somehow brighter than usual, and scattered into countless rainbows by the vapors. As a result, Tamwyn and the others found themselves blinking in the sudden brightness that surrounded them.

Then, out of the radiant mist, a blue lake appeared before them. Bluer than a sapphire, the lake sparkled as mist swirled around it. In its very center, a spiral of mist rose out of the still water, rising and reaching outward with long, undulating limbs, until it looked like . . .

“A tree!” exclaimed Elli. “A tree of mist.”

Despite Nuic’s customary scowl, his liquid purple eyes shone. So did Tamwyn’s, as he stood beside Elli and the sprite. Nearby, Fairlyn’s own limbs were now smelling like sweet apple blossoms. Llynia, standing by her maryth’s trunk, had started to smile mysteriously.

Only Henni, who was disappointed to have the excitement of battle no longer, wore a glum expression. He cast his gaze around the misty shores of the lake, slingshot poised for action, looking hopefully for any more signs of ghoulacas.

The tree of mist, sprouting from the center of the lake, solidified before their eyes. Bark, branches, and leaves all hardened, faceted like crystals that reflected the water’s deep blue. Before long, the whole tree stood fully formed.

Then, upon its glistening trunk, an image started to appear. The image of a woman! She stood as straight as the trunk, though she was clearly quite old. Long, silver hair, curling like shreds of mist, fell over the shawl that was draped across her shoulders. Beneath the shawl, her gown of textured green seemed to glitter—though not as much as her vibrant, gray-blue eyes.

Suddenly, the woman’s image stepped right out of the trunk. Unlike the tree itself, she didn’t look solid. They could see through parts of her flowing green gown to the tree and shore beyond. She started to walk straight toward them, her bare feet on the water, each footstep sending a slender ripple across the lake.

Elli gasped and put her hand on Tamwyn’s forearm. Then, realizing what she’d done, she instantly withdrew her hand. To her relief, Tamwyn was so captivated by the strange sight of the misty woman that he hadn’t noticed.

“At last,” declared Llynia with satisfaction. “My vision comes true! It is the Lady of the Lake.”

Her smile broadened. Any remaining traces of humiliation and fear from the ghoulacas’ attack melted away from her face, vanishing like mist in the morning. In a voice both confident and proud, befitting of one whose ascension to High Priestess was now assured, she said, “She comes to welcome us. See? Even now she lifts her hand in greeting.”

The vaporous image of the Lady of the Lake paused on the water, just a few steps from the shore. And then, to the wonder of Tamwyn and Elli, she did indeed raise her hand. She held it there, palm out to the travelers.

Nuic, his color a dark shade of brown, scowled at Llynia, who had raised her own hand in return. That was when the Lady spoke, her voice misty but unmistakable.

“You shall not enter.” She thrust out her palm—raised not in greeting but as a command to stop. “Go away, all of you!”

“B-but,” stammered Llynia, suddenly crestfallen, “you brought us here.”

“I merely spared you from your attackers. But I do not invite you into my lair. Nor do I have either the time or desire to speak with you more.”

She turned and started to walk back across the lake to the tree. Around the shore, the mist began to thicken. Soon it would cover them and carry them off to another place.

“Wait!” cried Llynia. “We need your help.”

The Lady’s glistening form kept walking away. Watching her go, Llynia struck her fist into her palm. “It’s all Coerria’s fault! She tricked me into making this quest . . . this folly.

Damn! She’s ruined
everything
.”

Elli whirled and faced her. “She didn’t trick you! She gave you every chance to stay at the compound. You’re the one who wanted to go—for yourself more than the Society.”

Llynia’s cheeks went red, then purple, while her chin turned the color of greenish mud. “You, you . . . wretch! You have no right to speak that way to your superior. No right at all! You should have stayed a slave in Mudroot! That’s where you belong, groveling in the—”

Angry though she was, Elli just turned away from the fuming priestess. Before the Lady of the Lake disappeared, she had to try again—while there was still a chance. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted across the water, “We need your help, good Lady! To find the true heir of Merlin.”

To her surprise—as well as everyone else’s—the departing enchantress stopped. She turned around, standing in front of her crystalline tree. Then, her voice scornful, she demanded, “What do you even know about the true heir of Merlin? Or for that matter, the child of the Dark Prophecy?”

In a flash, Elli recalled the secret that High Priestess Coerria had shared with her—a secret that had come from the Lady herself long ago. How did it go, now? Something about a brother . . .

She started to speak, when Llynia elbowed her aside. “Forgive this presumptuous slave girl, your grace. Obviously, the heir of Merlin and the child of the Prophecy are mortal enemies. Opposites. One pure, the other defiled.”

The lips of the misty woman pressed tightly together. She surveyed them for another instant, then turned again to go. Reaching the trunk, she stepped inside. At the same time, thick gray mist billowed inward from the shore, covering the branches of the tree and stretching toward the travelers.

“Wait!” cried Elli in desperation. “They’re not opposites!” As Llynia spun around to counter her, and thick mist flowed over them, Elli shouted: “The heir of Merlin is like . . .”

Heavy mist blanketed her, muffling her voice. With all her strength, she called: “Like a brother!
Like a brother to the darkened child.”

The mist shimmered, then pulled apart. Bright starlight shone through, washing everything in prisms of color.

Henni stood on the shore of the lake, blinking his eyes in the brightness. He could see again! There was the glittering tree, growing out of the deep blue water. And there was Lady Greenbeard, looking wonderfully angry. How he loved seeing her all purple with rage! What, he wondered, was she fuming about this time?

Then it hit him. Llynia was there. So was Fairlyn, waving her unbroken branches and smelling like something soothing—lavender, maybe.

But there was no sign at all of the others. Elli, Nuic, and Tamwyn had disappeared.

30
•
A Pure Crystal

Elli and Tamwyn found themselves sitting on the floor of a large room. Its floor, walls, and furniture all sparkled with a moist, silvery sheen, like frozen mist. The ceiling, unlike any they’d ever seen, tapered to a point high above their heads. All at once, the truth struck home, and they turned to each other.

“We’re inside the tree!” they both said at once.

“I do have chairs, you know,” rang a mischievous voice behind them.

They spun around—and then leaped to their feet. Tamwyn accidentally stepped on Elli’s toes, but she hardly noticed. For seated before them was the Lady of the Lake herself.

She sat in a chair sprouting out of the floor, a crystalline burl that was part of the tree itself. Under its vaporous surface, it seemed as solid as any wooden chair—maybe more so, since it looked as if it had lasted all the ages of Avalon. The woman herself seemed quite old, and yet her gray-blue eyes twinkled with youthful vitality. She studied her guests, playing with the curls of her silver hair, until at last she spoke to them in a rich, gentle voice.

“And so we meet,” she declared, inclining her head to each of them in turn. “Elliryanna Lailoken. A mouthful of a name, that is! No wonder you go by just Elli.” She grinned playfully at the surprised young woman, then turned to Tamwyn. “And Tamwyn, who doesn’t even know his full name.” She watched him shift uncomfortably, then added softly: “Although . . . I do.”

Tamwyn started. He leaned forward and opened his mouth to ask her to say more, when she raised her hand. “Later, Tamwyn.” Reluctantly, he shut his mouth, though his dark eyes stared at her in wonder.

She turned at last to Nuic, who was standing on the sparkling floor beside Elli. This time, she did more than incline her head. She drew her thick shawl about her shoulders and rose from her chair, as gracefully as a spiral of mist. Then she made a full curtsy to the pinnacle sprite.

“Nuic,” she said. “How good to see you.”

The Lady’s special treatment of Nuic was, for Elli, surprising enough. But what words then came out of his mouth surprised her even more. For her ever-grumpy maryth said nothing harsh or even irreverent. He simply said graciously, “The pleasure is mine.”

Elli glanced down at the sprite, whose colors were vibrant blues and greens. “You’ve met before?”

Nuic just shrugged. “You could say that, Elliryanna.”

The Lady, watching him, fingered the amulet of oak, ash, and hawthorn leaves that hung around her neck. “Indeed you could.”

Tamwyn and Elli traded glances. Then, while Elli puzzled over the sprite’s strange behavior, Tamwyn turned back to the Lady. Her eyes, so bright, with both gray and blue, reminded him of the mist swirling on the sapphire lake. And there was something else about her—something magical—that made him think of the museo he’d seen that night back in Stoneroot. Although he’d been mired in a heap of dung, that museo, and the strange bard with the sideways-growing beard, had lifted his spirits right out of the dung and into the stars.

That’s how Tamwyn felt just now, for no reason he could name: ready to reach as high as he could. As high as the true heir of Merlin, perhaps—even if, as he feared, he was really very different. As different from Merlin’s heir as anyone could possibly be.

The Lady of the Lake sat again, and gestured for them to do the same. Both Elli and Tamwyn found shimmering burls beside the enchantress, not far from a wide hearth that glowed steadily. But it wasn’t any fire that produced the glow. It was, as Elli realized with astonishment, a cluster of light flyers—tiny winged creatures who were among the rarest in Avalon. They were crawling across the back of the hearth, their frilled wings pulsing with golden light.