Of course, I knew one of them would die. Or at least that it was very likely. Then again, there had been times when we had thought entire groups would return, only for an act of fate to destroy them all. None of this is absolute.
“Elder Obheas (Aw-veh-sh)?” Elder Brumon (Bruh-men) asked. The interruption slightly pulled me from my thoughts. I moved my head in his direction to let him know I heard him, and he continued. “They’ll be arriving soon. We need to come to an agreement on this.” He urged. I sighed. Of course, he was right, but it wasn’t so simple.
I gazed back up at the illusionary tree that hovered between all of us. It glowed with a yellow and green hue. One large branch of the tree looked withered, almost festering.
“Festering branches mean death or ruin. We can’t put them in as a Guardian.” I said, glancing down at where the trunk showed signs of festering as well. Not good. This could mean that the whole group will suffer, even die if this boy is given the wrong duty. There must be another way. A small sigh escaped Brumon.
“Obheas. We all want to keep the tree healthy, but we’ve tried everything.” I shook my head slowly and pointed to the trunk, expanding and magnifying the image for the others.
“The trunk is at risk with this choice. We can’t leave it be.”
“You’re right.” Brumon sighed, nodding.
“He’s right and we’re tired. We’re trying to shine shite here lads. We need a break. The offerings will bring us the insight we’re missin’. We’ll come back later with fresh eyes.” Elder íobhren (Ee-vren) said.
íobhren was the oldest and most often wisest of us. So of course, he was right. All eleven Elders grumbled and nodded in agreement. “Good. These old bones need nourishment.” íobhren said. As he turned to walk away, the illusory tree fizzled into small particles of yellow and green light, drifted slowly to the smooth black stone floor, and vanished.
One of the Elders across the room pulled a lever from an alcove in the wall. The massive red and black stone doors ground open, letting in the near blinding light of midday. Elder Brumon and I held our hands up as we squinted.
“I swear the light of Kolob (Co-lob) gets brighter every year.” Brumon complained. I chuckled.
“You complain like an Elder. It’s as bright as it’s always been.” He smiled, but I could tell he was tired. Black magic did take its toll. Even so, our grey hair was the only thing that marked us as Elders. Even Elder íobhren took to jogging when he smelled our midday meal.
It had always struck me as odd, being called an Elder and having the grey hair that was a signifier of old age for the other humanoid races, but nothing more. Benefits of being Cianían (Keen-ee-an). I thought with a small smile.
“Come on.” Brumon said, slapping my back. “Let’s eat.” I followed him out onto the balcony, moving from the red and black marble of the Pruning Room to blue and white marble tiles. Ornate dark wood tables packed with food lined the black and red stone railing.
As usual, the food was mouthwatering and delicious. One of the perks of being an Elder. I talked with the others for two hours until the part I didn’t enjoy arrived.
“They’re here. Shall I send them in?” Asked our lead guard. íobhren nodded, chewing the last of a gravy covered biscuit before answering.
“Yes please. Thank you Odron (Ed-ren).” Odron bowed his head and backed away, walking briskly. I sighed heavily. íobhren looked over at me and chuckled. “Come now Obheas. This is a joyous thing.” I shook my head.
“I don’t see it as joyous. I hate lying to them.” He squinted at me.
“We don’t lie lad.”
“Yes we do. Every time we see a dead sapling among them, we pretend like they’ve got a chance. It’s cruel.”
“As opposed to what? Telling them the child is meant to die? You think that would ease their fears? You know why we do it lad. Why beat yourself up over it?”
“I do know why. Which is why I would never tell them. I just wish there was something we could do. It’s such a cruel fate, dying just so that those around you can grow.” íobhren sighed.
“It’s not cruel Obheas. It’s the laws of Curnunnos (Cur-nun-no-s) God of the Wilds. Happens all throughout his dominion. Trees die, so the bugs can eat, bugs die so the…”
“I know the cycle.” I interrupted. “I know there’s no avoiding it. I just can’t help feeling…” I didn’t finish. íobhren smiled knowingly with a small nod.
“It’s the price. Or at least it’s tied to it. We give up our ability to have little saplings so that we can help raise the forest. After so many years lookin’ after other people’s children, you tend to either stop carin’ so much and see them as just another project or seein’ them all as your own children. You care lad. That there’s a great thing. Just keep in mind, for the tree to thrive, sometimes, a branch must be pruned.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Now let’s go see what we’ve got.”
I sighed and nodded.
“In a moment íobhren.”
“Don’t take too long there lad.” He said, then smiled and walked through the archways. I turned around, looking out over the city. Our great capital city. The browns, reds, and blacks of the rooftops below us stretched for miles around. The intricate grid system of the streets was clearly visible from this height.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
It felt odd for a moment, being such an integral part of something that I was, in a way, not a part of. I took a breath, steeled my mind for the task ahead and moved back inside to join the others, grabbing a handful of ripe, juicy, red grapes to nibble along the way.
All the Elders gathered on an elevated platform at the main entrance to the tower, overlooking the large, beautiful, octagonal main hall. The two massively tall main doors lay wide open, allowing the light from Kolob to fill the room. A group of people were ushered in to stand in a line below us. The parents of the Agers. I noticed that while most of them stood in pairs, mother and father, two women stood alone. I sighed.
Shameful, to leave your wife alone. Though whether they were left alone from the Eastern War, or irresponsible actions is yet to be seen. We descended stairs on either side of the platform to greet the parents. Some looked nervous, but others we’d seen before. I smiled at two familiar faces. Bíutris (Bee-uh-trish) and Arden (Awr-den) Geal (Geh-l). They’d brought many children to our overly opulent tower already. We smiled to each other as I approached them.
“Bíutris. Arden. A pleasure as always.” I said with a slight bow.
“Pleasure’s all ours Obheas.” Arden said as they bowed back.
“Got something for you.” Bíutris said, holding her hands out to reveal two small shoes. I felt two pangs in my heart. One of joy, the other of sorrow as I reached out for them, cupping them gently in a single palm. So fragile.
“And the name.” Arden started. “Is Croí (Kree).”
“Ahh.” I said, smiling. “Little Croí Geal. Bright Heart. What a lovely name.” Bíutris grinned widely, as did Arden as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Right then Obheas. What can you tell us about our boy?” Arden asked. They were a gift to me, some of the rare people I wouldn’t need to lie to. I took a deep breath in, focusing on the small pair of shoes in my hands, and Bealach Fréamh (Bell-awk Fray-ehv) extracted its price. My own blood and twenty years of life.
As I saw the beautiful, illusory sapling spring up out of the little booties with deep, strong roots, I couldn’t help but smile. Arden and Bíutris couldn’t see the sapling, as they had not paid the price. I could see it though. I could see all of them. Including those that were withering, wilting, and shedding leaves like tears. I turned back to the Geals.
“The roots run deep and strong.” I said. They both grinned. “Sturdy, upright trunk. That’s good indeed. Quite a few branches for such a young lad, though some of them don’t seem to be as healthy as others.” I chuckled. “My, your boy has quite a bit of character, doesn’t he?” I asked, smiling. Bíutris laughed as she wiped away a relieved tear. Arden grinned proudly and chuckled.
“That he does Obheas. Real fine boy.” I nodded. I could see it. See his good attributes, his willingness to learn and grow, his wish to help and be useful, but also his lack of self-confidence, and fear. Still there was something special about this little sapling. “Thank you again Obheas. I’m sure we’ll see you again sometime.” Arden said. I smiled and bowed to them, allowing the spell to fade, holding the small booties gently in my hand.
“A pleasure as always. I’ll see you after the ceremony.” They grinned and waved to me as they walked away, followed by the other parents in their turns. When the doors slammed shut behind the last parent, it was time to work. We took all ten of our small trinkets back up the tower to the Pruning Room, placing them inside the circle and taking our places as the last of the guards and light left the room.
“The price is paid.” Said íobhren. Followed by Brumon, and two others as I quieted my mind and paid my own price.
“The price is paid.” I said, opening my eyes to see a brand-new tree, much fuller than when we had left it, though at the same time, significantly sicker. Each little sapling became a branch of the tree, adding to or subtracting from its overall health. If we put the wrong Ager with the wrong duty, the tree would perish, which was completely unacceptable.
“You were right Obheas.” Said íobhren. “That branch is not suitable as a Guardian. Too much aggression and fear. Nowhere near enough protective instinct. Suggestions?”
“He might make a fine Provider.” Elder Sealc (Sh-awl-k) said, swapping out the branches. The tree wavered, one side withered, and the other looked almost entirely dead. “Apparently not.” He put it back.
“Maybe this branch needs to be the Provider. Plenty of spunk and curiosity. She’s quick on her feet, and smart.” There was a murmur of agreement, and the change was made. The branch took, flowering and covering itself in healthy leaves, growing to more than four times its size, before withering. Smaller branches dried and fell off.
“A good change. Now to find the others.” íobhren said. We worked tirelessly, swapping and reading branches, but no matter what we did, some portion of the trunk didn’t work out right. I thought back to my special sapling. I duplicated its illusion and brought it in front of me to examine. I peeled away layers of bark and wood, down to the core, risking a bit more blood. There.
It was there, plain as day. An incredibly strong protective instinct, strong sense of justice, and a love given as freely as Kolob gives light, and heat, if a bit on the cautious or timid side. That sense of justice could cause a problem if he grows to see the Aging as unfair. But that protective instinct and loving nature should override it. I duplicated the first branch picked for Guardian and looked at it closer.
There’s the problem. His protective instinct is too selective. He isn’t a natural fighter; he was forced to fight. What he needs is to experience the side of life not led by the fist. He needs to learn to care.
“Move the Guardian to a Support, and move the…” I looked around for the Geal sapling, finding him in the experimental position of Leader. “Leader to a Guardian.”
“Guardian? With that timid self-doubt? They’ll be crushed the instant they’re met with any adversity.” Elder Faocloir (Fee-k-lihr) said.
“I’ve seen the core. He has a strong protective instinct, and the Guardian isn’t truly a fighter, they have a caring soul.” There was a moment of grumbling, then some agreement.
They put the branches where I asked. One or two Elders shook their heads, seeing it as a waste of time, while others squinted in confusion. Then the roots grew deep and thick. Every branch grew significantly until the tree pushed against the ceiling of the Pruning Room and threatened the walls. My mouth fell open in shock. By the Gods! That is some tree!
“Now that is no polished shite. That there is a genuine beauty lads.” íobhren said with a chuckle and a grin. I was grinning too, until I noticed some leaves falling. I looked up to see one branch suddenly wither and die. No. Gods! Then Brumon pointed to the trunk.
“The rest of the tree remains. It even compensates fully.” I looked up to see he was right. One of the branches expanded to help cover the space left by the dead one. The branches grew together yet again, threatening to burst through the walls. They stopped and íobhren’s words rang in my head. ‘For the tree to survive, sometimes, a branch must be pruned.’
It looked like he was right. The only combination we’d found that led to the tree remaining healthy, was the one in which one branch died. I looked up to see a healthy tree, though noted that two other branches were dropping leaves. A clear sign that one or both could also die. But all that was left was the largest tree I’d ever seen.
I looked at Elder íobhren as the other Elders discussed. We both sighed and nodded to each other. Gods, please receive that poor, pure, beautiful little sapling, and keep this tree safe.