Terry Brooks - Bloodfire Quest

“Time to go,” Aphen told her.

They sat together while Cymrian went off to release the mooring lines and take the airship back to Arborlon. Woostra retired to the aft deck to give them some privacy.

“The Federation has left Paranor,” Aphen told her. “Not one soldier remains. I don’t understand it. They wanted it so badly. Hundreds died to take it. But now only the dead remain. Something unexpected has happened, I think.”

“The magic frightened them away?” Arling was fully awake now, anxious to hear what her sister had learned.

Aphen shook her head. “But they would have left guards, wouldn’t they? Even if they remained outside and didn’t try to go back in, they would have wanted to keep watch to see what happened.”

“I don’t know, Aphen.”

Her sister smiled. “Did you get some rest while I was away?”

“Not much. What did you find out?” Arling could keep still about it no longer. “Was there anything about the Ellcrys in the Druid Histories?”

“A little. Most of it had to do with where the Bloodfire could be found. There wasn’t much on the transformation or how the choosing is made.” She leaned forward quickly and put her hand on Arling’s shoulder. “But we’re not finished. This matter isn’t settled yet.”

Arling shook her head, discouraged. “Where else is there to look? What else can anyone do?”

Aphen hesitated. “I don’t know. I only know that we are not giving up.” She took her hand away and rocked back. “I need to find Khyber Elessedil and the others and ask them. I need to bring them back to Arborlon—both because of this and because of what’s happened at Paranor. They need to give up this search for the Elfstones and reclaim the Druid’s Keep. And they have to help you. I will insist on it.”

She tightened her lips and exhaled sharply. “While I’m gone, I want you to go back to the Ellcrys and speak to her again. I want you to tell her how you feel. She needs to know you are not ready for this. You have to tell her you want to seek a place in the Druid order. It may help if she understands how strongly you feel about this.”

“I fled from her,” Arling answered. “She already knows.”

“She knows you are frightened, but she doesn’t necessarily know the rest of it. Besides, you don’t want to leave things like this. You have been a good and faithful servant to her; she will expect you to come back and explain yourself. You owe her that much, Arling. You owe yourself. Go speak with her again.”

Arling didn’t want to do any such thing. She was afraid of going back to the Ellcrys. It was a nameless, pervasive fear that originated in her mix of shame and disgust at having fled. But she knew it was the right thing to do, and she would not disappoint her sister. Aphen expected her to be strong enough to confront the Ellcrys and try to convince it to choose another. If she did not, Arling would live out the rest of her life knowing she was a coward.

“I will,” she said to Aphen.

Then she hugged her sister and tried not to think of what a second encounter might mean.

A day later, Arling joined Woostra on the Elven airfield to bid farewell to her sister and Cymrian. Wend-A-Way had been resupplied, and the journey to find the Ard Rhys and the Druids was about to begin. The sisters hugged and kissed, facing each other with smiles and tears in the early-morning light.

“Look after yourself, Arling,” her sister told her. “Do what you need to do. Be strong.”

Arling nodded. “I can be strong as long as I know you are there for me.”

Aphenglow looked stricken. “Oh, Arling. I will always be there for you. You know you can depend on that. We will be there for each other.” She paused and wiped away her tears. “Will you speak to the tree today?”

Arling hesitated, wanting more time and space to consider. But she knew that she was only putting off the inevitable, and there was nothing to be gained by doing so.

“Tonight. When the other Chosen are asleep,” she promised. “I will try then.”

“It won’t be so bad. She’s an old friend to you, a companion. She’s asking for your help. If you can’t give it, she will understand.”

“I know,” Arling said, but she did not know anything of the sort. “Please come back soon.”

Aphen’s strong features tightened. “As quickly as I can. But you need to remember something while I am gone. Someone in the Elven community is hunting me and now, perhaps, you. I want you to be especially careful. Cymrian thinks you are safe enough for the moment, but I am not so sure. I thought I was safe, too. So stay alert. Do your work as a Chosen and keep to yourself. If you have a problem, go to Uncle Ellich or Grandfather and ask for help. Do not take chances. Promise me.”

Arling nodded, beginning to cry anew. She embraced her sister and held her close for a long time before releasing her. “Good-bye, Aphen. Please be safe.”

She stood then with Woostra and watched as her sister and Cymrian boarded Wend-A-Way, released the mooring lines, and lifted off into the brightening morning. Wend-A-Way swung about until she was facing west and slowly picked up speed.

Arling stood watching until she was out of sight and the sky was empty once more.

Woostra cleared his throat. “If there is something I can do to help you while she’s gone, you have only to ask me.”

Arling nodded, not looking at him. “Thank you.”

“She didn’t say what is happening, but it is clearly important to her. I don’t need to know what that something is. I’m not asking you to confide in me. But Aphen is dear to me, and I will do what she expects of me in her absence.”

It was a strangely formal proclamation, and Arling almost smiled in spite of herself. “I will see to it when she returns that she knows you offered. And I will come to you if it is needed. I appreciate your offer, Woostra.”

He shrugged. “I’m just doing what I know Aphen would want.” He hesitated. “I saw how you were when the Keep was attacked and we were struggling to hold the Federation back. You were as brave as anyone. I respect you for that. You are much the same person as your sister.”

Maybe not, Arling thought. Not so brave, not so certain about herself, not so confident in who she was. Not like Aphen. She had never compared herself favorably to her sister, always aware that Aphen was older and had accomplished so much more in her life, even in the face of criticism and disapproval. Even though she was alienated from their mother and much of the Elven community. Arling could never have done that. She wasn’t brave enough.

She gave Woostra a quick smile. “I have to go now.”

She was aware of the old man’s gaze as she walked away, though she did not look back.

The remainder of the day was spent working in service to the Ellcrys. She returned to the Gardens of Life and was warmly greeted by the other Chosen. Before flying off to Paranor, she had explained her absence by leaving word with Freershan that she had been taken with a fever and stomach sickness that would put her in bed for a few days. When one of them asked why she didn’t answer her door when they had come to check on her, she covered by saying she had gone to stay with her mother. No one questioned her further. She was given hugs and kind words and welcomed back. It made her feel like a liar and a cheat; it made her feel ashamed of herself. But she got past it as quickly as she could and spent the remainder of the day absorbed in her tasks, keeping her head down and her thoughts to herself.

When her work was finished, she went to see her mother. It was not something she particularly wanted to do, but she craved the reassurance that being in her mother’s house—the house she grew up in with Aphen—would provide. But on this day Afrengill was dark-tempered and distant, moving like a ghost through the cottage while Arling sat watching, saying almost nothing to her daughter, so far gone inside herself that she almost wasn’t there. Arling tried speaking with her, hoping for just a few words in response that would make her feel as if she belonged here. But her mother couldn’t give her those words, and after a short while she left feeling none the better for having come.