Illusions of Intimacy

Chapter Four: Letifer, Tree of Death

We wound our way a short distance, following the river, until soaked and giddy with the magical rain of the ymber trees. Forgetting our worries, we laughed, hung our slips on an overhanging limb, and dove into the pool. It lay within a protected bend, fed by the rapids along one side. The coolness of the emerald water invigorated me. I dove under, gliding through its brisk depths. Surfacing, the delirium of the tree sap had washed clean and I now perceived a familiar sensation. I looked on the surrounding banks, but saw nothing. I draped wet locks of my long hair across my face to mask my eyes, which I now tingled. In fact, my skin and veins pulsed with that which called to me. I knew it to be close. As in previous times, I felt certain of my safety. I held the gift it sought. But not Amalear. She was in danger.

From as much distance as I could manage, I asked, “Do you think Selmil will do anything to our gowns?”

“Oh, I hadn't thought. She's wicked enough. I'll gather them up presently.”

“Do you feel well enough?”

She laughed and tossed an armful of water over me. “Fine. I'll be back straight away.” She turned toward the direction we had come.

“I may go to find what is calling me, so remain here when you return.”

She called back over her shoulder, “Stay clear of danger, Lynae.”

Once she'd departed I breathed a sigh of relief. I gathered my slip from the low bough, held it above my head, and hurriedly made way to the far bank, leading into the forest, the origin of the power. The ancient canopy filtered the dim light, my bare soles sank in the soft loam, and the still air hung heavy with the fragrance of decay. I inhaled deeply and then caught my breath. I heard no sounds in this woods. No songbirds' chorus, no chattering rodents, no shrill cries of raptors, no rustling leaves, no twigs crackled from my footfall, no straining branches. Silence. And then . . . a single voice made me jump. Instead of what I expected, a man's voice called to me, a deep, melodious tone, yet strained as if in danger. It contained the magic and compelled me.

“Lynae . . . come.”

Unable to resist, I walked closer, excited.

“Come to me. Touch my spirit.”

My pulse pounded in my ears, and my heart raced. Sweat beaded on my forehead, despite the crispness of the forest air. I thrilled to feel the essence that lay ahead. Familiar, like all the times before, yet more intense.

The voice became shrill. “I need you, Lynae.”

I quickened my pace. Then, I halted. In the midst of a glade stood a magnificent letifer tree. Its gilded leaves fluttered in the still air. But how? Curiously, hundreds of different kinds of fruits weighed the same branches. But I thought the elders burned all these dangerous trees at least a decade ago. Seeing one drew my fear. I must be at the border of the kingdom.

“Help me, please.” The now raspy voice startled me. It came from under that tree – I shuddered. There lay an elf man on his back.

I stepped closer and he struggled to sit upright. I stopped at the crown's limit. On a long journey my father taught me the letifer possessed extremely poisonous fruits, save one type, which served as the antidote for contact with the others. A grazing of the skin by one of those dangerous varieties caused paralysis, sometimes fatal, and consumption brought certain death. Dressed only in my slip I hesitated. I circled the tree, remaining outside its spread, until I was nearest to him.

He wore the embroidered tunic and fine leather boots of a noble, a gilded sword at his hip. His raven-black hair indicated him to be a member of the warring tribe at our south. I knew they posed danger to our peaceful folk. Again, I hesitated.

His gaze caught mine and held me. I gasped. My own eyes glowed back at me, like those of the forest wolves, whose spirits always beckoned. But I'd never seen that look in the face of another elf. Or had I? Something so familiar pulled at the recesses of my memory.