Red Leaves and the Living Token (17 page)

Moslin shrunk back, trying to hide, as if the entire room were laughing at her. Emret wheeled his chair in front of her. “Why were they laughing?” He didn’t understand.

The Holy Master Cleric calmed himself. "I apologize. I appreciate your humility. Only the truly humbled would ever be permitted to see Red Leaves. If anyone would be allowed to see him, it would be the two of you, I'm sure."

He turned to the immense wall sized painting behind his over-sized desk. It depicted a large Tree with light emanating from its red leaves. Botann men and women dwarfed by the size of the tree knelt towards it with their heads bowed in reverence.

Moslin, still upset, followed his gaze. Emret scowled at the old man. The painting made their reaction even more confusing.

The Holy Master Cleric stood up. "You have to understand my young friends. Our beloved RED with his leaves of light and life hasn't been touched in over a thousand years."

He walked to a wall of windows on the east side of the room. The crowd moved to follow behind.

Looking out the windows, Emret was in awe at the immense plaza that opened up below him. Tiny dots of people scurried about while others crowded together motionless. In the center of the plaza was a walled off section with nothing in it but sandy dirt, without a single plant growing in it.

The tiny dots of people collected around the border of the protective wall. They seemed to be pushing in to get as close to the wall as possible.

The Holy Master Cleric in his silken robes, pointed to the walled off earth and explained, "Red Leaves is no longer with us. A thousand years of history tends to blur the details, but the most credible account contends that he was cut down as the first act of the great war."

He turned back to Moslin. "Surely your father taught you this history?"

"No. He did not," she answered, trying to hide her emotion. Tears had already formed at the edges of her eyes.

Emret stared at the empty square of dirt with in the walls. He tried not to think about what this meant. He tried to force it from his mind. His heart started to sink. He closed his eyes. What was he going to do? What was he going to do! He slouched down in his wheel chair.

Moslin watched the boy. "May we visit the wall?"

"Of course." He answered.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be of more help with your critical situation," she told him.

"It is a burden I hope you'll never have to worry about. Again, I apologize for having brought you here by force. Under the circumstances, it was unavoidable."

Suddenly his soft disposition turned cold. "You weren't given anything to help you find Red Leaves were you?" He asked sternly.

She responded, "No. I wasn't aware that I would have to look any further than where I stand now."

He nodded his head, apparently satisfied with the answer.

-

Moslin and Emret wandered through the crowded plaza, a wall of red stone rising up in the background. Emret kept his eyes to the decorated tile ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. He couldn't look at the people in the plaza. Above all, he could not bear to look at the dead spot of earth where he should have found life.

“I don't want to see it.” He told her.

She stopped his wheel chair and knelt down in front of him, bringing herself down to his eye level. “Emret, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say.” Tears welled in her eyes. She took him in a tight embrace.

"We'll figure this out. I promise."

He looked up at her for the first time. "How?" Tears fell down his cheeks.

But then, through his blurry tear streaked vision, he saw something. Something past all the people. Something beyond the wall. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

There appeared to be a faint red glow above the wall. It looked as though it was coming from behind. He squinted. Was something there? No. He was seeing things. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, then looked again. This time he noticed a slender branch of a tree, twisting and turning into the air, just above the wall’s top trim.

"Moslin, look!" He pointed.

She turned around. "What?"

"I see it!"

She studied the wall where he was pointed then turned back to him, confused. "See what?"

"It's there! It's still there!" He pushed his wheel chair around her. "I can see it."

She stood up as he raced his chair on ahead. "Honey!" She called after him.

As Emret got closer to the wall, he could see more of the brightly glowing branches. A collage of brilliantly red leaves sprang up out of them.

Moslin chased after him.

"It's just like I imagined. So beautiful!" He shouted to her. The Tree now extended well above the wall. Its branches dense with the vibrant leaves.

Emret stopped at the wall. Not able to get any closer, he turned and followed the perimeter of the stone wall as it cornered around, hoping to find a hole or crack. Moslin dodged in and out of the thick crowd of people trying to keep up with him.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. The wall ended abruptly, leaving a sizeable ten foot section where there was nothing but an iron fence between him and the red earth. For the first time he saw the entire tree in all its radiant beauty. It's trunk and limbs swam with dazzling patterns of light. It almost hurt to look at it. He stared up at it in amazement. He'd never seen anything so incredible.

Moslin caught up to him. "Are you OK?" She followed his gaze, turning to the iron fence and the empty spot of red earth beyond." I thought you didn't want to see it?"

"Help me up," he asked her without breaking his gaze from the Tree.

"You sure?" She asked.

He nodded.

She bent down and helped him out of his chair. He put his weight on his wobbly legs. "Help me to the fence," he asked.

She supported his shoulder as he took step after careful step, finally reaching the fence. He took it in both hands. Then slowly worked his way to the space where the iron fence met the stone wall.

There was a gap. Just enough for a small boy to squeeze through. Before Moslin figured out what he was doing, he pushed his shoulder through, then quickly slid in the rest of his body.

Moslin gasped. "No!" She yelled.

The crowd ignited into a roar of screams and hisses. A guard standing ideally, by jumped to attention and darted towards the fence.

Emret stepped wobbly forward then fell to his knees below the dazzling red tree. A low lying branch hung down inches in front of him. He reached up high above his head. Straining to reach the delicate limb. Everything went silent in his mind as his finger neared the tender branch. This was his life returning to him. He sucked in a last breath as his finger glided into the surface of the tree.

But his finger didn't stop. It passed right through the branch. There was no substance. It wasn't real!

In that instant, his normal sight ended and a new sight began. He saw himself somewhere else, on a mountain side in deep underbrush, Moslin standing next to him. There was a strange object in front of him that glowed with a brilliant white light. He leaned forward to get a better look. Lying in the soft ferns was a tiny white stone carving of the majestic tree he had just been standing in front of.

He reached up to touch it, but before his body could respond, his vision pulled back as though there was a cord tied around his waist. In an instant, he was back in the plaza. But then, in front of him, across the plaza, on the mountain side far in the distance he could see something glowing. It was a tiny bright spot of light shining like a beacon.

His awareness returned to the walled square of red earth beneath him, to the radiant and beautiful tree he had reached up to touch. Only, there was no tree. His hand was raised, and nothing was in front of it. The square was empty.

With that his body gave, and he collapsed.

-

Emret woke under the warm covers of an adult sized bed. Moslin, sitting in a chair next to him, put down her book. "How you feeling?" She asked.

"A little dizzy." He looked around the strangely decorated room. It looked to him like what her bedroom might look like. Religious paintings and drawings. Botann iconography. An image of the Holy Master Cleric. The room even had two room height trees in opposite corners. Like the larger version, he’d seen earlier these trees too seemed to flow into the make up of the room. "Where are we?" He asked.

"Before we left I made arrangements for us to stay with a good friend of my fathers. After the episode in the plaza, he came and helped me get you home." "What happened?"

"What happened? You trespassed onto one of the most sacred places in the Botann faith, almost started a riot and came this close," she pinched her fingers together, "to being killed by the guards on duty. I don't suppose you noticed the large, do not cross, signs before you squeezed through the fence? Or the fact that there was a 10 foot high stone wall around almost the entire ground?" He let out a heavy breath. "I'm sorry. I..." He looked away, avoiding her eyes. He wasn't ready to talk about what he saw. He wasn't comfortable himself with what he saw. "What were you doing?"

He glanced up at her long enough to see the anger and frustration on her face. How could he explain that all he cared about was getting to that tree. He would've done anything to get to it. He was looking at his life being restored to him. Just over that wall. Just within reach. Wouldn't she have done the same? "You put both of us in jeopardy. We're lucky we're not both in a cell right now. Literally. My father's friend worked a miracle getting us released," she explained. He gulp in a quick breath. "I thought I saw... I thought..."

"You thought what?"

He rubbed his hands together. How could she be so cruel?

Her angered glare softened. "Oh." She put a hand on his. "You thought you saw... Him?" He nodded.

"I'm sorry. I knew what happened was overwhelming. I didn't realize..." She scooted over the bed and took him in a tight hug. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shook his head.

"You know, I meant what I said. We'll figure this out."

He nodded, still hanging his head low. "Would you take me somewhere before we go home?" "Sure." She cocked her head and smiled. "OK." She studied him, not sure what to make of his request. "There's a mountain to the south of the city. I need to go up the second canyon a little ways." She chuckled. "You need to go to the mountains? Really?"

"Yes I'm serious." He said.

She stopped laughing and stared at him, confused. "Why?"

"I can't tell you."

"You can't tell me? She shook her head and muttered to herself, "great!"

The door creaked open after a quiet knock. An older Botann man with dark robes poked his head in. "Moslin, I have a moment now if you'd like to talk." "Yes, thank you." She said then stood up. "We'll talk more about it later, OK?" She turned before slipping out the door. "Get some more rest." Emret pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. On his knees he carefully hobbled over to the door and pushed his ear quietly up against the wood. Sure enough, he could hear them talking. Moslin's voice was faint but still understandable. "I wanted to ask you about something the Holy Master Cleric had asked me. He wanted to know if we'd found something to help us find Red Leaves." "Hmmmm...," He mumbled.

"First of all, I now have the understanding that the Red Leaves hasn’t been seen for a thousand years? "Right," He added.

"What could he be referring to then? How could we have something that could lead us to something that doesn't exist?" He admitted, "Does seem a bit puzzling. I'm not sure what his Holiness might've been referring to." He paused. "Did he talk at all about the Red Leaves return?” He asked.

"Return? No, he didn't say anything about that," she admitted.

"There are writings from the time that Red Leaves was destroyed that warned of the three Reds imminent return. It said, on that day they’d avenge their betrayal and desecration. They'd deliver justice to those who destroyed them and grant redemption to their defenders." "I think we're all inclined to believe justice will be delivered to our Nemeses. We all blame each other for the great war. Not until the Reds finally return will anyone really know who committed the destruction." "But what was the Holy Cleric worried I might've found?" She asks.

"That I don't know. It's unlikely he said that because he believes the Reds have actually returned." "More than likely he saw an opportunity in your story. If someone professed to be looking for Red Leaves and had something to give their search credibility, it could be used to persuade the people. It could be used to say the Reds have chosen the Botann, or the Zo, or the Petra with whom to reveal themselves. It could draw concrete lines of just and unjust. The chosen people and the un-chosen. That could lead to another war. Troubling." "What would give credibility to someone searching?"

"A claimed miracle with witnesses. Or a religious relic. Or even better, a combination of the two, a relic said to have been created by a miraculous event. Something with a good story behind it." "You my friend," he continued, "have a compelling story. He painted a picture in the air with his hands. "A dying boy seeking to be healed by the long lost Reds, risks his life by sneaking into the sacred grounds because he believed he saw Red Leaves still growing there." "If you had any other legitimizing factor thrown on top of that you could become a powerful tool to the politically motivated. After the young man's stunt yesterday, it would not be difficult for someone in power to turn you into the catalyst they're looking for." "That being said, I would suggest you take the boy home as quickly as possible. They will do you
no
favors here."