Ardalia: The Breath of Aoles

Chapter Ten - THE TREE OF LIFE

The cilamen's bark was composed of large, thick, overlapping plates. With so many points of support, the climb was easy, yet Pelmen was careful to conserve his breath. Just how long he had been climbing, he was unsure. However, he had a niggling feeling that he needed to keep his wits about him. Glancing down, Pelmen felt faint. The bushes and rocks at the foot of the tree looked like miniatures. More than fifty feet from the ground, every fiber of his body told him a fall would be dangerous, possibly even fatal. The wind surrounding him would doubtless have blown him from the tree had it not been for the narrow gaps in the bark, in which he was able to slide his fingers and balance. Pelmen focused on the brown bark, striving to breathe more slowly, to calm the beating of his heart.

Don't get carried away. You'll get there.

As soon as his arms and legs had stopped trembling, he continued to climb. His sense of linear time fragmented. He saw the different stages of his climb following one another without any apparent reason. When, exhausted, he hoisted himself into the crotch of the trunk with its huge branches, he stayed there for a while, lying on his stomach. Then he looked up.

Perched on a branch wide enough and solid enough to support an entire row of buildings, its long beak pointed in his direction, a large bird with ochre plumage was peering at him through gilded eyes. The bird took flight, and while it rose up, threading its way through the branches, its wings shimmered. Then it disappeared.

Pelmen woke with a start. The air was warm and dry. Astar was visible again, and for the briefest of moments, he confused the glare of the dawn with the eyes of the bird. He looked in every direction but could not see it anywhere. The winged creature was probably camouflaged right now. Just like the algam, the bird of legend. Its appearance had coincided with the sculpture in front of the Sanctuary of the Ten, and the colorful descriptions of the Seers.

It seemed so real. Was it really a figment of my imagination?

As his eyes swept the trunk, one detail held his attention. Pelmen drew closer to the bark, formed by plates overlapping one another. As in my dream—but yesterday evening, I couldn't see the cilamen's bark was like that. He inserted his fingertips into the gaps and tested the strength of the wood, without being able to bend any of the plates.

The odor is identical too.

Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps, he turned and was surprised to see Xuven moving between the roots, looking preoccupied. Pelmen stared at him questioningly.

"I've just gone all the way around the tree, and I haven't found anything. It should be here, though, close to where you were sleeping, conspicuous."

"What are you talking about?"

"The gnarled wand, of course."

"Oh, that..." Pelmen suppressed a smile at his uncle's stubborn desire to make a shaman of him. "I haven't found it either."

"Haven't you had any unusual dreams? Visions of entire plains of flattened blades of grass? Of yourself guiding the roaring wind with the aid of your wand?"

"I... I saw something, yes, but not of that sort. There was an algam, I think."

Xuven's irises dilated. "An algam, you say? Then you don't have the gift. Or rather, you probably have an ability, but very different..."

"You really were hoping I would discover that I, too, had power over the wind?"

Xuven blinked before looking at the cilamen. "Who can claim to know the Gods' plans?" There was a long pause, then he darted a piercing glance at Pelmen. "In any case, you should develop your affinities with animals. You could start with the nidepoux."