Read Online The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) by Sam Ferguson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sam Ferguson
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powerful enough to actually threaten him. Aparen had to wonder what it was the shadowfiend was after. Dremathor had said the satyrs would be able to teach him and help him expand his powers, but could there be something else? How did sending him here help the shadowfiend? Whatever it was, it was too late to worry about now. Aparen would just have to go along with it and let it unfold.
“We will follow your ways,” Silvi said quickly. “We have no intentions other than to be honorable guests.” At her words, Aparen’s own heart softened and his anger subsided.
The satyr seemed pleased as well. He nodded to her and then looked back to Aparen. “We shall see what this one really thinks after we reach Viverandon.”
The trio pressed on for more than an hour as the sun continued to set off in the distance. The sky above, as seen through small spaces between the thick branches overhead, burned orange and pink. The air cooled, and the deer were nowhere to be see.
“The prowlers will be out soon,” the satyr said. “We haven’t a moment to spare.” The satyr suddenly turned from the trail. The trees and bushes pulled their branches back to let him through. He stopped mid step and turned to the others. “Come on,” he said.
Aparen moved into the forest and followed the creature as they walked in what seemed like the wrong direction. At least, they were bending back toward the way they had come from by what Aparen could see. They went deep into the forest and stopped at a grand oak tree. To say it was large would not begin to describe the gargantuan tree. The speckles and patches in its bark alone were bigger than the base of most oak tree trunks. The lowest branch looked to be six feet in diameter. By all accounts, the tree should not have been able to stand. A single leaf on the tree was half the size of Aparen.
“This is Nonac, the gate to Viverandon,” the satyr said proudly. “Stay close to me.” The satyr played a tune on his pipes and then pressed his forehead to the tree. The tree groaned and lifted itself from the ground, exposing massive roots and pulling dirt up. The taproot was actually two giant roots entwined together. Slowly, they untwisted and opened up to what appeared to be nothing more than the forest beyond. The satyr bounded through the opening and then disappeared.
Aparen and Silvi looked to each other and then followed him through. A rush of air nearly blew them back through the opening, but they managed to hold their balance and make it through the portal. Once beyond the tree, Aparen turned around to watch it resettle into the ground, but he saw no large oak tree. There were only pine trees behind him. He stopped and turned slowly. He stood in a vast meadow or wildflowers of every color. Butterflies and bees made their way from blossom to blossom and the sun hung high in the center of the sky.
“But it was sunset,” Aparen commented.
“No,” the satyr replied. “Here, in Viverandon, we have night only when the nightcaller plays his flute. We have the sun for as long as we wish to have it.”
“How do you keep the days?” Aparen asked.
“Time is irrelevant,” the satyr said. “There is only the here and now. What is in this moment, that is all that is real. There is not past, and there is no future. There is only what is.”
“That makes little sense,” Aparen said. “How do you know how old someone is if you don’t track the days, months, and years?”
“We are children of Terramyr,” the satyr said. “We have as much need to count the days as a tree. Our lives are not so confined. Come, you are expected.”
Aparen let the subject go and followed the satyr through the meadow. As they reached the other side he noticed that all of the pine trees on this end of the meadow stood in an exact line, as if created to be a wall. The satyr played his flute and a pair of pine trees lifted and pulled their boughs back to open the way through.
Beyond the wall of trees stood
“We will follow your ways,” Silvi said quickly. “We have no intentions other than to be honorable guests.” At her words, Aparen’s own heart softened and his anger subsided.
The satyr seemed pleased as well. He nodded to her and then looked back to Aparen. “We shall see what this one really thinks after we reach Viverandon.”
The trio pressed on for more than an hour as the sun continued to set off in the distance. The sky above, as seen through small spaces between the thick branches overhead, burned orange and pink. The air cooled, and the deer were nowhere to be see.
“The prowlers will be out soon,” the satyr said. “We haven’t a moment to spare.” The satyr suddenly turned from the trail. The trees and bushes pulled their branches back to let him through. He stopped mid step and turned to the others. “Come on,” he said.
Aparen moved into the forest and followed the creature as they walked in what seemed like the wrong direction. At least, they were bending back toward the way they had come from by what Aparen could see. They went deep into the forest and stopped at a grand oak tree. To say it was large would not begin to describe the gargantuan tree. The speckles and patches in its bark alone were bigger than the base of most oak tree trunks. The lowest branch looked to be six feet in diameter. By all accounts, the tree should not have been able to stand. A single leaf on the tree was half the size of Aparen.
“This is Nonac, the gate to Viverandon,” the satyr said proudly. “Stay close to me.” The satyr played a tune on his pipes and then pressed his forehead to the tree. The tree groaned and lifted itself from the ground, exposing massive roots and pulling dirt up. The taproot was actually two giant roots entwined together. Slowly, they untwisted and opened up to what appeared to be nothing more than the forest beyond. The satyr bounded through the opening and then disappeared.
Aparen and Silvi looked to each other and then followed him through. A rush of air nearly blew them back through the opening, but they managed to hold their balance and make it through the portal. Once beyond the tree, Aparen turned around to watch it resettle into the ground, but he saw no large oak tree. There were only pine trees behind him. He stopped and turned slowly. He stood in a vast meadow or wildflowers of every color. Butterflies and bees made their way from blossom to blossom and the sun hung high in the center of the sky.
“But it was sunset,” Aparen commented.
“No,” the satyr replied. “Here, in Viverandon, we have night only when the nightcaller plays his flute. We have the sun for as long as we wish to have it.”
“How do you keep the days?” Aparen asked.
“Time is irrelevant,” the satyr said. “There is only the here and now. What is in this moment, that is all that is real. There is not past, and there is no future. There is only what is.”
“That makes little sense,” Aparen said. “How do you know how old someone is if you don’t track the days, months, and years?”
“We are children of Terramyr,” the satyr said. “We have as much need to count the days as a tree. Our lives are not so confined. Come, you are expected.”
Aparen let the subject go and followed the satyr through the meadow. As they reached the other side he noticed that all of the pine trees on this end of the meadow stood in an exact line, as if created to be a wall. The satyr played his flute and a pair of pine trees lifted and pulled their boughs back to open the way through.
Beyond the wall of trees stood
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