Free Leaves of Flame by Joshua Palmatier Page B

felt the touch of the Winter Tree’s siblings. To the southwest, on the plains, he tasted the sugary sap of the Autumn Tree, planted outside the human city of Temeritt; to the southeast, the golden savor of the Summer Tree flooded his senses from the central plains of the dwarren, beyond the Ostraell. He explored their tastes for a long moment through their connections to the Winter Tree, searching them for damage as well. He couldn’t be as thorough from such a distance, but he could not sense any disease, and so he drew back, pulled himself back to the heart of the Winter Tree, back to Caercaern. He allowed the flow of the Tree’s life to soothe him for a long moment, then separated himself from its embrace, not without effort, and back into his own body.
    He sucked in a sharp breath as a wave of dizziness enfolded him, his heart thudding hard in his chest. A moment later he felt the bark of the Tree pressing into his forehead, and he pulled back. He sagged down to his knees, and as he sank, he turned, letting his hands fall to his sides.
    The sun had risen. It streamed down through the branches on the outskirts of the Tree, the area around the bole still shrouded in darkness, the leaves and branches above too thick to allow the light to penetrate here. He could see the lanterns of the Warders below, could see the members of the Flame as well. They appeared distant. He hadn’t realized he’d climbed so high.
    One of them pointed toward him and he heard a faint shout, filled with concern. Two of the Wardens began making their way frantically up the roots.
    “I’m fine,” he called out and waved, but they didn’t slow.
    He watched them ascend, not moving, not knowing if he could move. His arms hung at his sides, hands pooled in his lap where he sat.The life-force of theTree throbbed through his back. He felt distant and lethargic.
    “Shaeveran!”
    He glanced down, saw one of the Wardens scrambling up the last stretch of root to his position. The youth’s face was wide with panic and fear and Colin suddenly remembered what Lotaern had said back at the Sanctuary, that most of the acolytes and the Flame revered him.
    “So different from the reactions of my own kind,” Colin muttered to himself. He hadn’t journeyed through human lands in decades. His name was legend there as well, but tainted by fear and suspicion. At least along the coasts.
    “Shaeveran! Are you all right?” The youth reached Colin and fell to his knees, one hand on Colin’s shoulder, the other checking for damage. His fi ngers brushed Colin’s forehead and came away sticky with blood. He must have scraped his head against the bark of the Tree without realizing.
    The Warden frowned and dug in his pocket for a cloth.
    “I’m fine,” Colin said, pushing the cloth away in irritation as the Warden dabbed at his forehead. “I’m just . . . exhausted. I shouldn’t have spent so much energy on the Tree after working with Aielan’s Light.”
    The second Warden arrived.“Is he hurt?”he gasped,out of breath from his climb.ThisWarden was older,his face red from exertion, but his tone was more practical.
    “He says he’s simply exhausted, but he’s bleeding—”
    “It’s just a scrape,” Colin said, then gathered himself and rose, using the Tree behind him for support. “We should rejoin Vaeren.”
    The older Warden scanned his forehead, then nodded. “Very well.”
    They descended. Colin regained his strength as they climbed down, although he did require the Wardens’ help at one treacherous point where the roots were nearly vertical for a stretch; he didn’t want to risk expending energy shifting into a younger form. By the time they’d reached the pooled lantern light of Vaeren’s group, he’d recovered enough to glare when Vaeren demanded, “What happened?”
    “Nothing. I overextended myself, but I’m fi ne.” He reached for his staff, took strength from the life-force pulsing inside as he gripped the wood.
    “And the