The path he followed was familiar, a path he had traveled hundreds of times in the company of the other Chosen on their way to offer morning greetings to the tree they were all sworn to protect. Biat, his best friend, Raya, Giln, and Jarn—how many times they had walked it. Erisha, as well, although it was hard to think about her now. He would have gone to the others last night and told them everything that had happened since his flight from the city. He would have assured them that he had not killed Erisha, that he had tried to save her, that he would try to save them. He would have told them everything. He would have stayed with them and slept in his old bed. But Simralin said no. It wasn’t a good idea. No one must be told what was going to happen. The danger of panic was too great. She didn’t even mention the possibility of word slipping out and reaching the demonkind if too many people found out what was planned. But he understood it anyway. Any reunions or explanations would have to wait until this was over.
So in a small act of rebellion, he had chosen to take this more circuitous route from the sleeping quarters she had selected for him. At least he could walk the path he had shared with his friends. They would be sleeping and would not wake before he had done so, and his visit to the Ellcrys would be finished by the time they rose. Not long after that, they would be enclosed in the Loden and explanations and reunions wouldn’t matter.
He thought about the consequences of his actions for a moment. So much could go wrong, and almost all of it had to do with him. If he faltered, if he misjudged, if he rushed or hesitated at the wrong moment, he would fail. If he failed, everything would be lost.
In the moments before rising, lying silently in his bed, just coming awake, he had considered the possibility of keeping another of the Chosen out with him, a safeguard against his death before the city and its people could be restored. Biat, perhaps. Steady, reliable, the perfect choice. But did he have the right to ask such a thing? The burden, after all, had been given to him. Whoever stayed behind with him would share that burden, no matter how hard he tried to argue otherwise. Biat or another of the Chosen would stand at his shoulder and by doing so face the same dangers he did.
It was Simralin who had put it in perspective when asked her opinion earlier this morning. She was crouched next to him in the darkness, dressed and ready, her weapons strapped about her waist and over her shoulders, preparing to leave.
“You could do that, Little K. But if the demons manage to harm you, even to get close enough to do so, everyone around you, myself included, will already be dead. The presence of another Chosen wouldn’t make a difference.”
“But what if I am killed accidentally, even though you have expended your best efforts to keep that from happening?”
“What if you lose the Loden?” she replied. “What if you break it? What if it gets stolen? You can speculate all you want, Little K.” She paused. “Why don’t you just ask the Ellcrys what she wishes you to do?”
Ask the Ellcrys. Yes, he had thought afterward, that was what he would do.
So now he was on his way to speak to her. Or, more to the point, on his way to the gardens so that she could speak to him. But his uncertainties had not faded as he had hoped. Instead, they had intensified. He was awash in doubts. Not about the wisdom of keeping out another Chosen to aid him, but about his own abilities. He was being asked to do so much. Without skills, experience, or even much in the way of wisdom, he was being given a responsibility no one should have to bear. How was he to carry it out? How did he invoke the Loden’s power? What was needed to persuade it to enclose the Elves and their city along with the Ellcrys? How would he know afterward where he was to go and what he was to do once he got there? Thinking about it, about all of it, was so overwhelming that he almost turned back from his meeting. Someone else should be doing this, he kept thinking. He was not the right choice.
When he reached the gardens, he stood at their edge for several moments, looking at the tree and gathering his courage. He wasn’t sure what he would hear or even that he wanted to hear it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go any farther.
In the end, he did, of course. He stepped out into the starlit brightness of the clearing, out from the trees into the open, flinching as the light fell across his face and revealed him. As if, somehow, she could see that he was there. He came forward slowly, drinking in her impossible beauty, discovering anew aspects he had forgotten. He stood before her, just out of reach, staring into her scarlet canopy, blinking at the reflection of light from her silver limbs, awestruck in her presence.
She chose me, he thought suddenly. She could have chosen someone else, but she chose me. To his surprise, the words comforted him.
He walked into the dark pool of her shadow and dropped to his knees, head lowered, eyes closed, motionless and silent, waiting.
Waiting.
What if she does not speak to me?
He felt the spidery touch of a slender branch brush against his slumped shoulders.
–My beloved–
He almost cried, so grateful was he, so relieved. “I have done what you asked of me,” he whispered aloud.
–Use the magic of the Loden and place me within, still rooted in my earth. Use the magic to place the Elves and their city within, as well. All of us belong within your safekeeping. Take us to where we will be made safe from what is to happen. You will know where that is and how you are to go. Others will show you the way. Others will go with you and protect you–
“But I don’t know how . . .,” he started, then stopped instantly as he felt the tip of the branch move to his neck.