Destiny's Kingdom: Legend of the Chosen (28 page)

His final nexus drop was coming into view, the glowing green arc of his last descent to Shescheri now within visual range. A warning light flashed on his panel, and a screen readout displayed that the section of space he would come into at the end of this leyline was uncharted, and therefore posed a potential danger. Quade huffed a weak laugh. In the same way the original explorer had disregarded his findings of Shescheri as insignificant, Quade had never bothered to record his discovery into galactic travel logs, and therefore it was still considered unexplored. He bypassed the warning and guided his ship over the nexus arc. Shimmering seas and liquid sun. He kept repeating it in his mind.

CHAPTER 21

C
lea was beyond annoyed. She was beyond unsettled, beyond bewildered, and far beyond discretion. Damn all the stars why was this happening to her?

She'd spent the afternoon alone in her house mulling over what to do, half expecting there to be a banging at her door that would be Quade, having tracked her down for another confrontation. Her next run was in less than twelve hours, and Twilight Bloom was that same day at dusk. No matter really, about Twilight Bloom; a run to Medius and back would take only mere hours, and there would be plenty of time to get back before sunset. She'd left word for Trina, a voice message that had been decidedly vague. But her mind was still reeling, her nerves still on edge over what Quade had said the previous day over breakfast. How could he know about P'cadia, and worse, from a dream! Finally she couldn't stand the noise in her head anymore, and so she went searching for some answers.

She walked a direct and hasty path deep into the forest and headed toward a spot she knew well. As she walked, Clea tried to remember the lyric from the legend that she'd read only once many years ago, and she began to recite it aloud, and with volume:

"It's said that throughout these trees does pass the vision of Avalon to those who beseech thee…"

She couldn't remember the words from there, so she improvised:

"I've rarely sought out this elusive Muse who travels by thought and drops destiny clues. To me, no less! Unsuspect smuggling hound…Avalon…Avalon…where might you be found?"

He had appeared at that very turn in the path and through her chidingly chanted poem, Clea was still startled to see him when she rounded the bend. He reclined against a low, sloping tree trunk which held him suspended at an angle, his head tilted back as though looking to the forest canopy.
 

"I thought we decided years ago that rhyme was not your gift," he said nonchalantly, not looking at her yet. Clea walked over to him and glared down, her eyes glittering with the look of someone who has many questions that needed immediate answers.
 

"Do these trees have ears?" she asked. He glanced up to her and raised a curious eyebrow at her serious tone.

"Perhaps," he replied. "What's happened Clea, to demand such a question?" He rose from his reclining position on the tree and began to walk a winding path that led deeply through the forest interior.
 

"I'd really be loathe to say that it's destiny, but I fear that will be what it is," she said. Avalon had been walking in front of her, leading her somewhere apparently, but at those words he turned around to face her and continued to walk backwards along the path. His amused expression faded quickly when he saw her face, saw how tightly knit her brow was, how her body language had none of its usual fluid qualities. She walked straight and determined, and she obviously had something weighing on her mind of great importance. He stopped for a moment and so did she, and he looked away, as though surveying the air for a stir.

"The trees do have ears, Clea. Come; someone approaches. Someone I will not see."

"Why won't you see them, Avalon?"

"Because," he took her hand and led through the thicket of the trees, off the path they'd been following and into the depths of the forest. "He seeks to use his gift to corrupt. Follow me. I'll take you to a place where we can speak freely."

Through the close-set trees and high vining plants he led her, stepping over large rocks and fallen branches, across a tiny creek and through giant holes in the towering trunks of ancient ash trees. A dozen different turns they made, and soon Clea held tightly to his hand because if she let go she would have no way to tell where she was.

After a time, he stopped in the middle of it all and Clea looked around. There was nothing for the eye to see except layers of foliage, hanging vines and long braids of succulent flowers, and a rock formation that was green with the thick covering of moss. The birds and wildlife had even come to a sort of still, their calls and their songs dwindling to few as Avalon turned around. He waved his hand briefly through the air and looked back to Clea, and what she saw surprised her more than she ever would have imagined, though she never would have thought to imagine this.

Although it seemed like nothing but a moss covered rock formation, and an unspectacular one at that,
 
by the wave of Avalon's hand the wall warped and blurred, then opened up as a passage.

"What's this?" she demanded, her voice a surprised whisper.

"A place to be," he replied, and again took her hand. "Now, Clea… tell me why you are so troubled."

She followed him through the entry of what, for all intents and purposes seemed to be a cave, and she turned to look over her shoulder as they walked inside. Behind them, the entry seeped shut, gelling and then appearing to be stone again. As she turned back around and followed Avalon's leading hand, she was led along a narrow tunnel, the rocky, uneven pattern of the walls black, but lit with the sheen and phosphorescence of glowstone, and speckled throughout with glittering crystals that were imbedded in the rock. The air inside smelled like fresh water, was clean and faintly mineral to the senses. After ten paces or so, the passage opened up to a huge area, through which trailed a faintly trickling stream that traveled out a low hole in the wall. There were smoothly polished rocks about the space, and thick tapestries and fringed textiles adorned the floors and some of the rock formations, making this hidden cave area seem like an otherworldly living room. As she looked up, the ceiling was far above them, much higher than the outside of the rock formation would have provided. So much higher, she realized, that its height and size wasn't possible. Not by secular definitions, anyway. It had to be some sort of magic, some sort of pocket universe.
 

"Do you live here?" Clea asked hushedly, walking the perimeter of the enclosure.

"I sometimes come here. To be."

In all her years of knowing Avalon, of being on the receiving end of his visits, it never occurred to Clea that he actually lived anywhere. Since he showed up at random and by his own will, she had never gone beyond the idea that he somehow existed in another dimension of some sort, although that never really rang true to her either, since whenever he was with her, everything about him was so very real, and such a natural part of Bethel.

She let her mind slip from the dire matter that had polluted her thoughts for the past day and a half as she walked along the floor of the cave. The towering walls seemed to stretch into eternity, and along them were naturally forming crevices, which had become makeshift shelves. The shelves were filled with thousands of adornments, ranging in type from hand made artifacts that were obviously of ancient design, to fewer, and somewhat more modern novelties. Crystal boxes, exquisitely carved statues of stone and wood, baskets and dried wreaths abounded, but it was a simple flowered headband braided together with colorful ribbons that had faded with time and age that seemed to take center stage among the other gifts, a place its simplicity did not warrant. Numerous sheets of handmade paper were also stacked along the shelf bearing inscriptions of love and adoration toward the mythological muse Avalon. Clea craned her head back to take in the overwhelming display of miscellaneous baubles. They glittered and glowed from their lofty perches above, a true showcase of treasures. Many of the items were things she knew had come from faraway worlds, things she had only seen in pictures or heard of in her travels. Many more of the things were native to Bethel, had been fashioned from the planet's abundant materials. And though she was nothing of a historian of Bethel's natural resources, her memories from school lessons came back as she surveyed the items. Some of them surely had to be hundreds of years old.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" she asked, looking along the lowest horizontal crevice that served as a shelf.

"Most of what you see here and within were offerings or gifts. From people who seek me, or who I have sought. They come to lay offerings in the forest at the fork of…"

"…the ten weeping trees," Clea finished. She looked over to him. "Just like the legend says."

Avalon nodded, watching her patiently. She looked about the area, at the far distant ceiling of pinpoint lights that somehow illuminated the space like thousands of tiny stars, at the layers of tapestries that covered the walls and the rocks as if they were furniture, the hand-knit blankets and quilts that made this stone enclosure seem comfortable. The faint, bubbling sound of water over rocks provided a calming background noise, and Clea finally made her way to sit on a low bench of woven branches which was thick with the covering of barbak tapestry. Avalon came to sit beside her and asked again about her visit.

"What has happened that troubles you so, my Clea?"

Reality had settled back in and she didn't take time to mince any words.

"Tell me again the secret of P'cadia," she said. "Apparently I don't remember it correctly, because if I did what happened yesterday never would have happened."

Avalon's expression was hard to read. "What brings this to the fore, Clea? You've not spoken of P'cadia since you were a child."

"Quade brings it to the fore, that's what! Quade showed up yesterday morning and said he's been having dreams of P'cadia. Dreams of P'cadia, Avalon! How could Quade possibly know about this place?"

"So it is Quade," Avalon said thoughtfully. "I thought if anyone it would have been Trina."

"What is Quade?" Clea asked, her voice angry and impatient. "What does he have to do with this secret you told me, this place that you spoke of when I was too young to even understand? Tell me again, so I can make sense of this now."

Of course Avalon knew that Clea remembered the words he'd spoken so many years ago. But Avalon was patient and he understood that this was the way things would eventually come to pass. In her eyes there was panic, desperation, and Avalon looked at her warmly.

"On your eleventh birthday I told you a secret," he began, his voice calm and even, as it always was. "It was a secret that only few in the entire universe know about, a secret so large and so very special that you are the only person I have ever revealed it to."

Clea bit her lip because the words were as clear right then as the first day he'd said them, over twelve years ago.

"There is a magical place in your future my Clea," Avalon continued. "A magical place called P'cadia where the Avè dwells, and someday the Avè will guide you and those you stand with on the grand quest that is your destiny.
 
The prophecy that masks itself in the guise of a legend is the path that will lead your future, Clea. And the beginning of these events will arise when the Seer comes questioning you about dreams of a strange place that they don't understand, a place called P'cadia. And then you must share the secret riddle that I shall tell you now…"

"Stop," she said softly. "You don't have to repeat it." There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "I don't believe in destiny, Avalon." Clea's voice was quivering as she spoke, but she fought to keep her composure. "I've always told you this, and I'll continue to tell you forever if I have to."

"Believe in it or not Clea, the events are set in motion. This is the time of a cataclysmic event. You must find Quade, and help him find P'cadia. For without you, he will have no direction, and all that I've told you over the years will be lost."

"All my life as you've told me these stories, weaved these tales of legend and lore, taught me lessons
 
and told me things no one else ever has. I thought it was just to help me get through life and stay out of trouble." Clea laughed, but there was no smile on her face. "And now these things start to become reality and I'm expected to take my place among them, among this prophecy. That I alone will be the guide of the Chosen."

"I've always told you that I was here for you to help fulfill your destiny, Clea, by making you understand that it is real." He reached out and took her hand in his, and she looked up into his eyes. "But since you refused to believe your destiny was preordained, you interpreted my words to best suit your outlook. And you have never been alone in your position. Did you never realize that I play a role in this as well?"

Clea tried to think of a rebuttal, but couldn't, and again Avalon spoke words she'd only ever heard him say: