Elita Faith Daniels - Tree of Life (Part I)

Tree of life

Part I

E. F. Daniels

P. L. & E. F. Daniels

http://elitadaniels.com

http://treeoflifethebook.com

2nd Edition published September 2010

First published, June 2010

Copyright 2010, E. F. Daniels,

The moral right of the author has been asserted

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronics, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of E. F. Daniels.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 0 1234 5678 90

Typeset by P. L. Daniels

To my family, with gratitude and love

gainst the blowing wind a young woman travelled through the night, nothing more than a thin shadow blendinginto the oppressive darkness. She was enveloped in a heavycloak, clutching a small child to her like stolen treasure. Withno moon or starlight to brighten the countryside, the onlybastion in the encircling blackness was a small wayside inn.Dim light spilled out from its windows, and the smell of beerhung heavy in the air, along with the rich scents of roastingmeats. As Daenara drew nearer she could hear raucous malelaughter.

The brawling voices died as Daenara flung the door open. Atseveral plain, unvarnished tables were scruffy travellers, and,standing behind the long unpolished counter, a stout man pausedfrom cleaning an old mug. She could feel their displeasure at herintrusion, along with their lewd curiosity.

Well, dont just stand there letting in all the cold, woman! oneof the seated men said. Shut the god-damned door!

As she made her way toward the counter, she could feel theireyes follow her, not hostile, but intrusive. Her son, with his armstight about her neck, did not once rouse his tired face but clung tohis mother in a way that saddened rather than warmed theheart to see. A certain air of neglect and weariness, a sense oflost station, hung over her. She kept, therefore, a cautiousreserve.

Only one other woman was present, a short, buxom person whowas likely the innkeepers wife. She was busy over a hot oven. Theair was filled with greasy smells. The innkeeper, resting on oneelbow, bent over the counter toward Daenara. He abruptly offeredher a meal and a room. She accepted only the room and a bed,much too weary to eat.

The inn-keeper charged her seven gold pieces. Daenara frownedat this, but did not argue the point. She placed the money on theinn-keepers thick, fleshy palm, taking a large iron key in return.Without glancing back, she headed toward the small, shadowystaircase that disappeared round the corner. The men calledto her, asking her to let the boy sit and drink with them awhile. She ignored their entreaties and disappeared up thestairs as quickly and soundlessly as she could. Not till shehad reached her room and fastened the door did she relaxand set Deacon down. The room was sparse and uninvitingwith a small bed, a small table, and a wash basin, but it waswarm.

She stripped off both their heavy cloaks and retrieved a chunkof herbed bread, neatly wrapped in cloth, from her bag. Meanwhilethe little one surveyed his surroundings, clinging all the while tohis mothers dress. He looked dazed and wide-eyed, turning backto his mother, desiring to be held again. He raised his arms to her,but she instead placed a piece of bread in his hand, urging him toeat.

His face sombre and serious, he ate without enthusiasm.Daenara partook of nothing herself. Her gaze settled on the smallchild who seemed like a little stranger to her, he was so quiet.She thought of the man they had fled, and she suddenly feltexhausted and ready to cry. She gently brushed the crumbs fromDeacons mouth. Had enough? she asked, in a voice tight withsubdued emotion. Deacon nodded, handing back the half-chewedbread.

They soon crawled into bed. Snug against his mother, Deaconfell asleep immediately. She, however, lay in wretched wakefulness,her mind full of anguished thoughts. The bed was hard, the drabbedclothes coarse and heavy with dust. Her whole body ached, andshe wished to roll over to get comfortable, but she dared notmove, not wanting to wake Deacon, who even in his sleepclung fiercely to her. Nerve-worn, she could feel herself flinchinwardly with each burst of muffled laughter that came fromdownstairs.

Lying rigidly on her back, she felt an ache in her breast. Silentlyshe wept out all the sorrow that had pressed against her heart thesepast months, her only comfort the small, fragile weight that laybundled warm in her arms. Soon her sons steady breathing lulledher into sleep.

When she woke it was morning. Deacons arm was slungloosely over her neck, his head turned away from her toward thewall. At moments like this she felt her heart would burst for love ofhim. He was so sound asleep that he didnt stir when she gatheredhim up. She was anxious to get to the Imperial city. There theywould be safe.

Downstairs was empty, save for the few stragglers who hadpassed out at their tables in drunken stupors. With Deacon cradledfast in her arms, Daenara passed silently and unnoticed. Again theyventured out onto the road.

The day was almost spent by the time they reached the outskirtsof the Imperial city. Scattered over the gentle, green slopes werestands of trees filled with game. No villages were along the way,but they passed an increasing number of small homesteads andfarms.

Soon the sun began to die behind mountains thickly covered infir trees. Fortunately the paved road provided easy footing. Bynightfall they had reached the Angora river; the river extended inthe same direction as the road, all the way up to the city gates.Daenara was weary, but her step was strong with the knowledgeshe had almost reached the city. She could see two brilliant flamesburning at the front gates like welcoming beacons. She couldalso see the homestead and stables further up by the watersedge. The dim friendly glow gave her a sense of returninghome.

A husky male voice suddenly cut through the dark and madeher stop, her heart caught in her throat. Evening, citizen, said thehulking city guard, stepping out from the shadow of a tree.The gates to the city are closed at night. Dont despair. Thereis an inn not far back. Itll suit you and your little one justfine.

I know the gates are closed. I was hoping you could make anexception and have them opened for me? Daenara said. She wasdesperate to see her brother, and informed the guard of his highposition in the Imperial legion. Thaemon is his name. Youperhaps know him? she asked eagerly. The guards stern facesoftened.

I know him, he said in a gruff, but friendly voice. Go on.Mention my name to the men at the gates, and theyll let youin.

Daenara used his name and instructions, and was supremelyrelieved when the men admitted her. Even at night peoplewandered the handsome streets of the Imperial. Soft light issuedfrom flames in open caskets and lit the streets all through the night.Every so often she saw a guard patrolling.

The city was divided into three districts: the markets, theresidential, and the elven gardens. The latter was by reputation themost beautiful of all city gardens. Many years ago, when theImperial was still young, elves had constructed the gardens as a giftfor those humans who had fought bravely alongside them,though no elves actually lived there. Only the wealthiest couldafford to reside in them, and only by invitation could oneenter.