“Is-is it alright for me to take the fruit?” Jahrra whispered to Cahrume.
“Only if you are pure of spirit and a true child of Ethoes,” Cahrume answered gently.
Jahrra approached the tree cautiously. She wasn’t sure if she was truly pure of spirit or a true child of Ethoes, but she figured Cahrume would tell her if she wasn’t. As Jahrra inched closer to the tree, she stretched out her arm and gently put her hand upon a root that was not covered in moss. Instantly, she felt the passage of time, the coolness of rain, the warmth of the sun, and the love of many lives running through her body and coursing through her blood. Her fingers seemed to fuse with the tree’s bark and a flashing heat, severe but not unpleasant, surged from her fingertips to the very marrow of her bones. A roaring, suffocating sound similar to that of the roiling ocean clogged her ears. Jahrra gasped, but her gasp was choked away as her eyes no longer saw the green, filtered light from above, but people, hundreds of people trudging through a snow-laden mountain pass.
Jahrra fell to her knees, at least it felt that way to her, but her palm remained attached to the tree, the strange burning sensation strongest now on one tiny spot on her wrist. She took a deep breath, but instead of inhaling apple scent she inhaled the lung-freezing bitterness of winter. The people continued on, and the scene shifted. They came through the mountains and found themselves looking down on a beautiful land, a land full of rolling hills and green meadows, forests and rivers. They found a small canyon, heavy with the waters of snow melt and vibrant with life. She could see an apple tree, full of fruit, and a celebration that felt more triumphant and joyful than anything she had ever felt in her life.
A shiver ran through Jahrra and the scene changed again. This time she was standing at the base of Ehnnit Canyon, looking up, looking at the entry way, but something was different, something felt out of place. She could see figures working at something in the archway, and a dragon, no, the shadow of a dragon, a shadow that looked like a dragon? It was so hard to tell, the scene was fading, like a reflection in a pool erased by a single pebble, the ripples washing everything away.
The light was returning to normal, the rushing in her ears fading away. A wash of happiness flashed through her senses and her palm came loose from the tree, tingling and feeling icy and hot at the same time. Jahrra took a breath, inhaling the clean air as if she’d been underwater for the past several minutes. She crumpled to the ground and felt the cool, damp moss press against her flushed face.
“Jahrra!” called a familiar voice.
“Jahrra?!” that one was Scede.
Jahrra blinked away the strange residue of the visions she’d seen and lifted her head carefully. Funny, she was sure she’d have a headache after all that. She pushed up her weight with one arm and leaned woozily against a thick tree root. Although she seemed to have returned to her senses, some of the strange sensation lingered up her left arm. Jahrra reluctantly lifted her hand, only guessing at what she might find there. One bead in her tree charm bracelet felt warm, its odd rune glowing red, as if there were a tiny light shining through the marks from the heart of the wood. So you must be the wood taken from the Sacred Apple, she decided with wonder. The glow faded and then disappeared, but Jahrra could still feel a small trace of something, magic most likely, lingering in the tiny piece of wood.
She turned and looked at Cahrume, confusion and fear surfacing on her face. What was that? But what she saw in the draffyd’s eyes didn’t comfort her; it frightened her even more. There was a revelation there, but it was so clouded with emotion that there was no way for her to interpret it.
“You can speak with the Trees,” the draffyd hissed harshly, almost fearfully.
Jahrra sat stark still, not knowing what to do or say. She looked past Cahrume, hoping to get some reassurance from Gieaun and Scede, but they had the same look of bewilderment written across their own faces.
“What do you mean?” Jahrra asked anxiously. “How do you know I can speak with trees?”
“It means,” Cahrume began, “that you have a gift that is granted to only a very few. It is a true sign of one loyal to Ethoes who can speak with the Trees. Many have claimed they can, few have proven so. You see, the Sacred Trees of Ethoes hold deep, ancient secrets, secrets that contain power that could change the world.” he paused dramatically, took a settling breath and then said, “The Goddess has blessed you. How long have you had this gift?”
Jahrra didn’t know what to say. She had always known she had a way with plants, and even Yaraa and Viornen had told her she was a child of nature, but she had no idea that she could actually communicate with them. Maybe they knew all along; maybe that is why they decided to give her the armlet.
“I have a garden at home, and it always seems to do well,” she offered weakly after the momentary quiet. “And when I’m among the trees, I often feel different, at ease and at peace.”
Jahrra dropped her eyes to the ground, the same way she had done when she’d first met Yaraa and Viornen. Her elvin trainers were magical, and she knew that some way, somehow, Cahrume was magical too.
“I should think, then,” Cahrume spoke softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “that you should have no problem taking fruit from these branches. This hallowed Tree is gladdened by your presence.”
He smiled and Jahrra looked back at the Apple Tree. It truly was a majestic being. A being? The sudden thought and realization caught her off guard. Jahrra suddenly felt like the trees were no longer just giant plants, but individuals with an essence equal to her own. She felt that this tree had a coursing soul and spirit and a life force just as significant as any other creature’s.
It now made sense to her, the sacredness of trees. This is why Hroombra and her father had insisted she treat them with respect. Their lives spanned centuries, experiencing the changing of seasons and the erosion of time. They gave so much to the world around them and they asked for nothing in return. Jahrra smiled softly and sighed, wondering why she hadn’t realized all of this before.
For the next hour or so, Gieaun, Scede and Jahrra climbed into the heavy arms of the great Apple Tree and collected as many apples as they could fit into their saddlebags. They even paused for an hour to enjoy some of the fruit high atop the interlacing boughs that seemed to stretch on forever. They sprawled themselves out on thick limbs, as big around as a sea serpent and covered in the same soft, thick moss that covered the roots below. While Jahrra munched on the sweet, tangy apples, she couldn’t help but sense the tree’s contentment tingling over her skin, especially her hand. It warmed her heart thinking that this ancient being of the earth was happy to receive her company, even if all this talk about speaking with trees turned out to be a sham in the end.
Jahrra took another crisp bite of the apple she was eating. She was surprised at their flavor; they were unlike any fruit she had ever tasted, even the rare apples her parents once grew. From the first bite to the last, Jahrra could have sworn her mind felt sharper, clearer; that all of her life’s questions and uncertainties were finally making sense. I can do anything, understand anything! she thought with delight. She wondered if Gieaun and Scede felt the same way, but didn’t bother to ask. She had too many important things to think about. After some time, the fruits’ affects wore off and the three friends climbed back down from the tree, their arms laden with apples for Denaeh.