Chapter 2: Awaken
Leshalon was woken up by his mother pushing his arm and saying:
"Get up son, it is time."
Instantly, the lad was wide awake. He knew what that meant: today was the Princess' 15th birthday, and he was to go to the Council Tree, bearing with him the treasures his father had so carefully hidden 13 years ago, and setting into motion what could possibly lead to the greatest war Springland had ever known.
He dressed hurriedly in the pre-dawn frost, being careful to hide a sharp dagger in his belt. Taking up his quiver and bow, he went down to the kitchen, where his parents were waiting. Sevarilen wordlessly held out the pack she had prepared, and hugged her firstborn fiercely, knowing he might never return from this mission. She let go as her husband cleared his throat from his chair.
"I've had them put in the secret saddle-bag," he started, as he placed his useless hand on his son's arm. "Do not take them out until the Hermit asks you to, I've suffered too much to keep them safe for them to be taken now. Keep to side roads, and let the horse lead once you reach the forest. She knows the way."
As if to agree with this last statement, when he reached the stables a beautiful coal-black filly tossed her heard and nuzzled her young master.
"Yes, Nalia, I know," he laughed, "You want to run. Let's go, then."
He mounted quickly, himself eager to be on his way, and with one parting look at his home, he set off.
The boy rode quietly, staying as far away from main roads as possible, trying not to attract suspicion as he left the capital at an unusual hour.
Many times on his way through the sleeping city did he feel that someone was following him, but when he stopped to look, his trained eye could find no one. The feeling wouldn't go away, though, so when he reached the forest, he gave Nalia her head. Sure enough, he soon heard another horse behind him, though the rider was skilled enough to make little noise.
Wanting to see who the pursuer was, Leshalon turned his filly in a careful circle, ending face to face with the other rider, his bow notched and ready.
"Go home!" he hissed, when he saw who it was. "You have no business here, Natalana."
"I'm going with you!" the girl said defiantly.
"You can't. It's too dangerous, and Father would kill me if anything happened to you."
"I won't get hurt. You know I can fight just as well as you. And besides, it might be helpful to have a girl around when Sil–"
Here she was cut off by Leshalon's hand on her mouth.
"Don't say that name! You never know who might be listening. Wait, how did you know about her?" This last question was asked in an alarmed tone. His father had sworn that none but he and his mother knew of his mission.
"Oh, you learn a lot of things by paying attention," Natalana answered offhandedly. "For instance, I know that you put a frog in Lady Morlaina's coat hood before you left. Mother would be disappointed to learn that her firstborn son could stoop to playing such tricks."
"You wouldn't dare…"
"Take me with you, then," she asked sweetly. "I promise I'll be good."
"That's blackmail," her brother muttered good-naturedly, "but very well. You can come with me to the Council Tree, and we'll let the Hermit decide afterwards. Besides which, I couldn't let you go back alone, it would only attract suspicion."
As they set out, Natalana leaned over and whispered:
"About the frog, I added a snake for good measure" then spurred her horse to a canter, avoiding the good-natured punch her brother sent her way.
Leshalon soon caught up to her, and they slowed to a walk, not wanting to alert any possible spies.
Several hours and many hidden trails later, they reached a large clearing. In the center stood a beautiful, though leafless, oak tree, covered in snow, that seemed to shine in the noonday sun.
"The Council Tree," the pair breathed.
They started towards the tree, but had barely advanced a few paces when an arrow struck the ground in front of the horses' hooves. At the same time, a loud voice called:
"Who dares disturb the abode of the Hermit?"
"I am Leshalon," the boy answered proudly, "Son of Council, Servant of Queens."
These words, handed down from generation to generation, were the master password for the Council in times of war.
"And the girl?"
"She is my sister, also a daughter of Council."
"Very well," the voice said. "Dismount and walk to the Tree."
The young people obeyed, walking slowly through the snow. When they reached the tree, they expected to see some sort of tent. Instead, they found a rough "staircase" built around the tree, allowing access to a platform built in the branches. Tethering their mounts to one of the steps and removing the package they had been given, they climbed up, awed by their surroundings.
An old man was standing on the edge of the platform, his back turned to them.
"The others have reached the clearing," he murmured, as if speaking to himself. With a speed and agility belying his age, the Hermit took up a bow that was near him, and sent two arrows flying in quick succession. In the same loud voice Leshalon had heard, he called:
"Who dares enter the Hermit's Clearing?"
The two riders closest to the tree answered:
"We are Krylon and Krymon, Sons of Council and Servants of Queens."
The lone rider coming from the other side of the clearing said, almost at the same time:
"I am Shymonabeki, Son of Council, and Servant of Queens."
Having spoken the password, the three were told to approach the tree. Tying their horses with the first two, they climbed the steps and went over to where Leshalon and Natalana were sitting.
The Hermit stayed with his back turned to them for a moment, then turned around and observed the five young people.
"Welcome, young Councilors," he finally said. "You have all, except for this young lady here, who came of her own desire" here he winked at Natalana, who hid behind her brother and blushed, "been called and trained for this mission since childhood, and you know what we are about. You know that the sorceress Olivia is not the rightful Queen of this country, and that the true Princess, Silvana, is today a Melana, therefore able to take the throne. Our mission, in accordance to the final instructions King Shylo gave to his Councilors, your fathers and myself, is to find, protect and assist her in her struggle against Olivia. This will almost certainly mean great danger, so before we go on, I must know of you are prepared to give your lives for your future Queen"
The Hermit looked gravely at them, and they, without pause and almost as one answered "we are prepared."
"Good. Now, before we go on, we must eat." The young Councilors' faces brightened up considerably at this, and the older man smiled briefly before continuing:
"I'm sure your mothers prepared something for each of you, but you have no need of it at present. I have all that is necessary."
Going to one of the many pouches hanging from the branches, he drew forth a substantial meal of dried meat and cheese, as well as a sweet nectar-like beverage, the likes of which had never been tasted, even before the invasion.
The young people talked animatedly, having felt instant friendship. There was a general laugh when Rylon, Shymon's (for so he requested to be called) lion, who had been forgotten in the excitement, demanded loudly that "his esteemed and most beloved master ease the growling in his entrails without delay, or he would be forced to act unpleasantly." Seeing as the aforementioned master was too overcome with laughter to reply in a timely manner, the lion coolly climbed onto the platform and helped himself to Shymon's plate.
Leshalon, noticing that the Hermit had been staring at the horizon for several minutes, went over to him and asked what he was looking at.
Pointing to a group of dark birds hovering on the edge of the clearing, the older man answered with a hint of unease:
"Those crows have been circling in an unusual manner. I am afraid we have been spotted. It would be unwise to remain here."