Chapter 8 - The Last Messenger

Chapter 8 – Aael

The scent of the fury kisses smothered Aael as he carried the flowers to Mia’s new quarters. The Abbot stood with Mia in her new house and pointed toward the refectory.

“…if the cooks are gone, grab what you need. It is never locked,” the Abbot said.

The Abbot had said to meet them in the grove in an hour, so Aael set the flowers just inside the doorway and sprinted toward the idlewood trees before the Abbot found something else for Aael to do. 

A few minutes later, Aael reached the first trees. Some of them were centuries old, and over a hundred feet tall. Their spike-shaped limbs angled upward, leafless, from the central trunk and thrust into the air like knives. He needed to be careful here and slowed to a walk. These trees, like the aln they produced, could injure him. His parents hated these trees and never came here. Everyone else revered the trees, which kept them out as well. The grove was as private a place as he could find in the Abbey.

The trees relaxed Aael and eased the pain of his lesions. He weaved his way to the center where the largest tree stood. He usually sat in a depression at the tree’s base, but today he wanted to move as far from the confusion and guilt as he could.

The smooth bark of the tree looked more like glass than wood. They were impervious to fire, and only the aln they produced would scratch them. The trees fascinated Aael. He didn’t know where they came from or why there were so many here in the Abbey. He had never seen one in the Hylt, and they were impossible to move once they started to grow. When he was eight, he’d taken a piece of aln, which formed on the tips of the branches, and buried it behind his house. It had never sprouted.

The crafters here shaped the aln into useful items with a secret process. Aael’s best friend Bacchus wouldn’t talk about it, and the years Aael had spent in the workshop hadn’t revealed it. Whatever the craftsman did to mold the aln, it took a long time and a lot of effort.

Aael tried not to be jealous, but he didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to craft the aln. He did what he could to contribute, making stone sheathes or adding fletching to arrows, but he still felt like an outsider. And now this young woman just sauntered in here after trying to kill him and gets to know the secret. It just wasn’t fair.

Aael’s anger flared hot like the wind across burning coals, and he knew a firestorm of rage would consume him if he dwelled on it. So he snuffed the thoughts with Moonless Night, and the anger and anxiety disappeared.

“Hi, old friend,” Aael said as he ran his hand across the massive trunk.

The first branches started twenty feet above, and Aael thought about jumping to them. But he’d cut himself doing that in the past, and the Abbot would certainly disapprove if Aael showed up bloody to the ring demonstration. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the tree, his arms not even reaching halfway around the trunk, and shimmied upward. 

Aael’s strong grip provided the friction he needed to climb. No one else could manage it. It was just another thing that made him different. He threw his loneliness into Moonless Night and concentrated on climbing. Once he reached the lower branches, he quickly navigated the familiar path to his perch.

Near the top of the tree, enough branches intersected to make a platform. Aael had placed blankets down to help protect his skin from the tree and the aln it produced. The cloth created a barrier that made his hideout comfortable. He’d slept up here three times last week, a last resort when the pain from his lesions became unbearable. He didn’t know if it was the breeze or the solitude that made him feel better, but it was his favorite place in the world.

Aael crawled onto the blankets, stretched out on his back, and rubbed his chest to soothe the ache. His mom’s medical attention had filled him with magic, which always inflamed his skin. The chest wound from the arrow had already turned into a hard lesion.

Clouds, fresh from the Silent Sea, pushed eastward through the blue sky. Their gentle movements reminded him of the Shade. What a life the Shades must have; sleep all day, travel under the stars, the entire desert your home, guide and guard caravans of exotic people, a life full of exciting stories. Aael closed his eyes.

“Aael!”

Aael jerked awake. How long had he been asleep?

“It feels odd,” Mia said from below.

The Abbot’s voice drifted upward. “It’s the trees. Their centers are always open to absorb energy.” Then much louder. “I know you’re up there.”

Aael cursed. These trees were a symbol of Raln’s power and were sacred to his followers. The Abbot had told him countless times not to climb them. Maybe if he distracted the Abbot and got down quickly, he could save himself a lecture.

Searching the blankets for something to throw, Aael couldn’t find anything. He stood, and saw a break in the smooth line of the branch near his head. A chunk of aln the size of his thumb perched on the branch’s tip. Perfect.

Snapping the aln off the branch, Aael bounced it in his hand to get a feel for the weight. His mom always told him simple plans were the best, and it didn’t get any simpler than falling. He studied the forest floor eighty feet below. The Abbot and Mia stood on the west side of the tree.

Aael wondered if he contained enough energy to land unharmed from an eighty-foot fall. If not, he would hit the ground and pass out from his injuries or land safely and then pass out as his magic reserves emptied. Both scenarios would result in an unhappy Mother. Did he want to wake up to that again so soon? Maybe he should just climb down and face the guaranteed wrath of the Abbot.

Focusing on his body, Aael felt the magic saturating his muscles. His mom’s care yesterday had replenished his natural stores, so he had nothing to fear from the fall. But he wasn’t convinced it was the best plan. He rubbed his forehead. Thinking got him into trouble, but so did not thinking. 

Aael needed to try and avoid the Abbot’s anger, so he stepped to the eastern side of the platform and let his toes dangle over the edge. Taking three deep breaths, he twisted, and threw the small piece of aln up and westward. It clattered as it fell through the limbs of a distant tree.

Kael shine on me! Aael thought and then jumped off the platform.

Using the magic in his body, Aael pushed his mass outward and into the dark emptiness that existed in all things. Trapped in the center of a bubble, he strained to keep his displaced mass away. A few seconds later, he struck the ground with the weight of a pebble.

The effort became too much, and Aael’s mass snapped back. It struck him all at once like pinches on blistered skin. A sound like a sick kitten escaped him, and he stumbled into the tree trunk. He’d done it!

Mia jumped like a flushed bird, and Aael smiled. The pain of the alteration had been worth it just to see her flustered. The Abbot glared at Aael and his smile faded. The plan had almost been perfect. Scorch that old man. He was impossible to outsmart.

“Climbing His servants again?” the Abbot asked.

Before Aael could answer, the Abbot held up the aln Aael had thrown. 

How had the Abbot gotten that?

The Abbot frowned. “Worse, you desecrate His bounty?”

Aael fumbled for an excuse. “That basically fell into my hand. It would’ve fallen today for sure.”

The Abbot narrowed his eyes, and Aael quit talking. He glanced at Mia, who was studying the branches far above, a spooked look on her face.

Aael focused back on the Abbot. “I’m sorry.”

“We live at the whim of the Gods,” the Abbot said. “This breeds respect in a wise man.”

Aael nodded, bowed his head, and kept a smile off his face. No one would mistake him for a wise man. He stared at the ground and mouthed a prayer to Raln, that his servant the Abbot would forego the usual reprimand.

“Hopeless,” the Abbot muttered. 

Aael surrendered to a smile, a celebration of the lecture he’d just avoided. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut more often, he would have fewer problems. No, probably not.

Mia stared at Aael, her face still puzzled. He winked at her and ran to catch the Abbot, who strode toward the clearing.

“You test a monk’s patience,” the Abbot said.

Aael grinned. “Patience is like a muscle. You must exercise it. I’m only trying to help you, Padda.” 

Padda was the Kysh term for nonfamily that were considered family. A perfect name for the man Aael considered his grandfather.

The Abbot sighed. “Patience is like scaling a cliff, only with focus and strength can you avoid a fall, and you are like a bird fluttering around my head.”

Aael laughed. “Patience sounds dangerous. I think it’s safer to skip it.”

The Abbot sighed again.

Mia appeared on the other side of the Abbot, and Aael looked away. They continued in silence for the minute it took to walk to the grove’s only clearing. He spent every morning here with the Abbot doing old man exercises.

The Abbot stopped and turned to Mia. “I want to see your natural progress and show you the Seven Rings. I brought Aael to demonstrate because no one does them better.”

Aael flushed, equal parts embarrassment and guilt. He complained to the Abbot, his parents, whoever would listen really, that his mornings were wasted doing these exercises, and now the Abbot had complimented him on them.

“Begin with One,” the Abbot said to Aael.

“My favorite,” Aael muttered as he walked to the clearing’s center.

“And your greatest failure,” the Abbot replied.

That was harsh. How could you fail at standing?

The Abbot continued. “Remove your shirt and hood. She has already seen what you try so hard to hide. Clothes will mask the technique.”

Aael’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he began to clench and unclench his hands. He never removed his clothes in public. Half naked, in the middle of the day, was unthinkable. The demonstration had already made him nervous, but doing it exposed made it impossible. He couldn’t do it.