Red Leaves and the Living Token (16 page)

“More importantly, why am I talking to you?”

He turned his attention back to the forest, back to the journey ahead of him. He had a lot of ground to cover before he ran out of food.

In front of him, lit brightly by the glowing Token was the same stone archway that had visited him so many times already. The same stone path extended out in front of him, starting at the base of the arch and winding off into the forest.

He looked back at the shining Token. Then, a surge of images raced across his mind. All of the things he’d seen in Bedic’s book. All the things he’d seen touching the archway, touching the token. Maybe to understand the rest of this puzzle, all he had to do was ask.

His brought a finger down gently to rest on the white surface of the token.

His vision flashed to white. As the glare faded, he saw himself traveling along the stone pathway, weaving quickly through the trees then exiting the forest into a wide meadow with mountain peaks visible in the near distance.

In the middle of that meadow rose a beautiful white structure. Tall and magnificent, more beautiful than any building he’d ever seen. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever actually called a building beautiful before. It’s flat walls, intricately carved with patterns and symbols, hit at irregular angles, then extended up into the sky as pointed spires.

How could such an incredible structure have been built in such a remote place, he wondered. It would’ve taken thousands of men decades to build.

Then the world spun, thing went white and he was somewhere else. Standing in a forest somewhere. His son was lying crumpled up on wet pine needles and rotting leaves. He remembered this place from the first time he saw it. This was the question he needed the answer too. What was happening here in this place with his son? He tried to look around, to expand the scope of his vision. To his right he followed the edge of a beautiful red glow as it swept towards him. He wanted to see what was producing it, what it meant.

With effort he was able to push his sight further into the glow. There growing up out of the forest floor was a tiny red plant with brilliant red leaves.

“Dad?” A small voiced called. He turned back and saw his son calling out for him, standing.
 

With a jolt he felt himself being sucked backward violently. A moment later he was back in the moonlit forest, his finger hovering over the token.

“OK.” He nodded his head, wrapped up the token and stepped through the archway onto the stone path. His feet clacked against the hard stone as he quickened his pace.

-

A dozen yards back, hidden in the underbrush Rinacht watched through bent branches as Handers paused on the forest trail talking to himself then left abruptly on a new course off the path. He moved quietly through the underbrush to follow.

-

Sinesh peeked out from behind a large barrel. It was dark and the wagon hadn’t moved in hours, so she was pretty sure they were camped for the night, where ever they were. The wagon was packed tight enough that she had almost no room to sit. That and the bumpy road had left her pretty sore. Sore and hungry and cold.

But she couldn’t think about those things. Not until she found her grandpa.

The back of the wagon was uncovered and looked as though it had been pushed up against the side of another wagon. That should make it easier to get out without someone seeing her, she thought. She pushed out from behind the barrel and squeezed her way to the back where she could get a better look of where she was. It looked like her wagon was parked in a row with a whole lot of others. That was about all she could see. Trees on one side and wagons on the other. Most importantly, though, she didn’t see any people.

She scrambled over the back gate and dangled the few inches before dropping to the ground. The last thing she remembered seeing was her grandpa being tied up and thrown into the back of a wagon. There was a decent chance he was here still in the back of one of these wagons. But which, she wondered.

She climbed onto the rear bumper of an old covered cart that seemed to stand out from the rest and peaked down into the shadows of its contents. Nothing but crates and canvas bags. She dropped down. But then, just as she was about to turn the other way noticed out of the corner of her eye a slight movement in an old carriage.

She rushed over and climbed up on the back. Sure enough, her grandpa was curled up in the dark with his hands tied behind his back. He rocked back and forth violently against a knotted rope at his wrists trying to fray it. "Blasted…!" He cursed.

"Grandpa!" She shouted.

"Sinesh?"

She pushed her face against the bars of the back window.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed in a loud whisper.

"I followed you!" She replied sternly.

"You did? Thank you darling. Can you open the door?"

She pulled on it, but it wouldn't budge. She shook it back and forth. "Uhg. It won't open, Grandpa! I think its locked."

Soft footsteps pattered across the forest floor. Bedic stopped fraying the rope. "Sinesh, hide!"

She peaked around the corner of the carriage and saw two large men with swords walking towards her. Why'd they have to come now, she thought. She didn't want to go back to her hiding place. Not when she had finally found Grandpa.

"Sinesh, hurry." Grandpa whispered.

She hopped down off the back and crawled underneath. “Ah.” She exclaimed in excitement. About midway there was an empty storage compartment entirely obscured by the wheels and side walls.

She climbed up and curled into a ball. She was so sick of hiding. But at least she could stay close now.

E
mret woke to shouting and footsteps outside his and Moslin's small cabin. Men ran back and forth, pounding on the wooden planks of the boat's narrow corridor below deck.

Moslin sat up, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Emret answered.

The lock on the heavy door of their cabin clacked, then their door slammed open. One of the processional clerics stuck his head in. "Stay in here, don't make any noise!" He commanded. Moslin and Emret both nodded their head before he shut and relocked the door.

A moment later, a storm of heavy boots pounded down wooden stairs. Muffled through the walls, they heard a man yelling, frantically. It sounded like it was the processional cleric they'd just spoken to. "You must leave this ship immediately. You have no right to board!" He screamed.

The pounding boots continued unabated, turning down the noisy corridor outside their cabin.

"Stop!" The Cleric demanded.
 

A nearby Cabin door slammed open. "Please, step outside the cabin," a stern voice demanded. Two more cabin doors slammed open. "Please, move above deck!"

Their cabin door shook with a loud thud as something hit up against it. "This is an outrage! I will not stand for it!" The Cleric yelled, his voice right outside their cabin. "The Holy Master Cleric himself will be notified immediately. This will not go unpunished, I promise you!"

"The Holy Master Cleric?" The stern muffled voice asked with a laugh. "He ordered the search!"

Their door lock clicked. Moslin reached over and took Emret's hand. He looked back at her.

"We'll be OK," He told her with confidence.

 
The door opened. Two large Botann Soldiers stepped into the room. After eying the Botann woman and Zo child, the second soldier leaned his head back into the corridor and yelled, "Commander!"

A moment later another Botann solider, his uniform indicating a higher rank, pushed into the crowded room. He smiled at Moslin and Emret, "I believe we've been looking for you!"

Moslin and Emret exchange worried glances.

-

Emret wiggled around the side of one soldier and then squirmed back to the other side. How frustrating, he thought. He couldn't see a thing except the tall backs of the soldiers and the high walls of a strangely decorated building.

Moslin reached down and took his hand.

"Where we going?" He asked, looking up at her for reassurance.

They passed under an incredibly tall door way. Then without warning, the crowd of soldiers split apart revealing an enormous room that expanded out in front of them. Emret scanned the room from side to side, trying to take it all in. He’d never seen anything like it. It was so big and fancy, it was something you read about but never actually see in person. Every inch of every wall was painted in brilliant patterns of swirling color. On top of that, framed paintings the size of murals hung above lavish couches that lined the edges of the room. The ceiling was painted too. It looked like the sky but in a sort of decorative way.

Sculpted trees rose up to the ceiling in regular intervals in between murals and furniture. Instead of being planted in pots above the floor the trees seemed to grow up out of the floor itself. In fact the more Emret studied the room, the more the ornate moldings along the corners and crown of the room all seemed to flow out of the large trees. It was as if they were extensions of a large root system that had some how grown into the walls of the building.

At the far wall of the room, a Botann man sat at his desk, completely dwarfed by the enormous trees and room. He could’ve fit a hundred desks in the room and still had plenty of space between them. Several men and women rushed to and away from the desk, caring papers. One of these men, coming from the desk, stopped and signaled to the soldiers who standing on both sides of Emret and Moslin.

One of the soldiers turned to face them. "You may now approach his Holiness."

Fear gripped Emret. His Holiness? He didn't know who that was, but it sounded important. Was that what happened to run away children? They were brought to his 'holiness' for punishment? The whole situation reminded him of being escorted to his father’s study where he was informed of how unpleasant his life would become over the next few days.

They approached the large dark wooden desk. The elderly Botann man sitting at the desk looked up at them. His Botann skin was unusually lumpy, leaving large pits and bulges all over his face. He smiled, the bulges of his cheeks protruding even further.

"Welcome, my friends.” He said, raising his hands in polite gesture, “I hope the eager young boys weren't to rough in bringing you here."

Moslin leaned forward, "No, your holiness. They were very courteous."

"Good." He eyed them intently. "Moslin, correct?"

"Yes," she answered.

"I know your father, he's a very devout man. Especially considering the conditions in which you both live. I'm going to speak frankly with you for a moment.” He tapped his wide leafy fingers on the desk. “We currently find our selves in a rather dire situation. One, in fact, that you could say strikes to the very core or our faith. I'm hoping that you and this young boy might be able to help us."

"Of course, your Holiness," she responded in earnest.

"I need to know the nature of your visit. And the reason for the false pretense of your travel arrangements." He said.

"We came to seek medical treatment not available in Pipfe. For Emret," she added.

"You couldn't arrange the treatment through the boy's doctors? Where are his parents?" He asked.

"His doctors wouldn't consent to the treatment." She looked down Emret before adding, softly, "and neither would his father."

The wrinkled old man grunted, "Hardly justifies taking the boy. And who gave you authority to make decisions on his behalf?"

"She didn't," Emret answered. "She's here because I asked her to come. I would've come alone."

The Holy Master Cleric leaned forward to get a better look at the boy. Several of the advisers surrounding them muttered quietly.

"He's a very determined young man," she commented.

"So it would appear," the Holy Master Cleric acknowledged.

"Without this treatment he..." She glanced down at Emret. He caught her glance. He knew she was uncomfortable talking about it. But he didn't see the point. He was in trouble, and something needed to be done about it. Simply avoiding the topic didn't help him feel better.

"Most unfortunate. I will pray for you and the hands of our doctors. With which hospital have you made arrangements?" He asked.

"Well... The treatment is actually religious in nature. That's why his father and his doctors refused to allow it."

He sat back in his chair, surprised. "Religious? What sort of religious, medical treatment?"

She hesitated, A bit embarrassed. Emret watched her. He didn't understand why she was having a hard time talking about what they came to do.

He'd answer if she wouldn't. "We came to see Red Leaves to ask to be healed."

The men standing about the desk glanced back and forth at each other, puzzled. One started chuckling. Then another. Finally, the entire room was laughing.