Tales of Whispering Oaks
The Solitary Tree
Part 4
By: Chase L. Currie
Charity glanced around the small room with an iron stove, two reading chairs, and books, so many books. She almost wondered if the tree was made of books or how the wood felt about having so many pages in it. Was it wrong to have books in a tree house?
She moved her eyes around one more time trying to pick up any sign of an invisible spell but nothing. Normally, a Shadow Walker spell would leave a little outline of the caster, but there were only the fire and the smell of the wood Brunning. No one was using the spell.
She leaned against the wall a little more fighting back the desired to sit down. Ansel jumped from his chair asking, “You alright?”
“Still hurting,” She told him waving him away.
“Let me help,” Ansel said walking over to her and trying to help her to a chair.
“No,” She said pushing him away. He stepped back holding his paws up. “Who were you talking to?” She asked.
“No one.”
“You are lying,” Charity growled at him. “I heard two voices in here. I know what I heard. So, who was it?”
Ansel backed up from her and said, “No one. It is your fever playing with your mind.”
“No – no,” she said shaking her head with her body starting to give away. Ansel caught her before she hit the floor and she helped to the other chair.
“Let me get you some water,” He said disappearing into a small side room. “But with you up and about,” He yelled back at her, “is a good sign.”
Charity closed her eyes and then opened it them again trying to stay awake. She held her burning head in her paws looking around the room hoping to see something. She stopped her eyes when she saw the angel standing in the door way. The angel smiled at her as Ansel came back into the room.
“Here you go,” He said giving her the cup.
“Ansel?” She asked looking dead at him.
“Yes?”
“I think the fever is making me see things.”
“Like?” He asked with a raise eye brow.
“An angel.” She looked back at the door. “There an angel standing there.”
“Oh,” Ansel said following her eyes to the tall, perfect angel. “Have you seen him before?”
“A couple of nights ago.”
“Well,” Ansel said with a long sigh, “he didn’t tell me that.”
“What?” She asked not taking her eyes from the angel. “You see him too?”
“Yes, yes” Ansel huffed. “That is Iahhel. He likes to come during the fall. He enjoys the changing colors of the leaves.”
Iahhel nodded at her then waved good bye as she stepped out into the cold world.
“Where is he going?” Charity asked
“For a walk, I imagine,” Ansel said walking over to his chair across the room and took his seat back. “They like to come and visit me,” He explained. “Normally, they stay for a while, but Iahhel has been here the longest.”
Charity turns to look at him seeing the staff of a Sword Saint; a staff of twisted wood, looked to be made from an ash tree, and at the bottom of the staff, sheath, was the sword made from ulfberht steel. An unbreakable steel which only a Sword Saint could will. They were the only ones who knew how to forge the steel, but the art had been lost a long time ago. There were only a few of the staffs in existence.
“They?” She asked looking away from the staff to his eyes.
He grinned. “Yes, they. Many angels visited my home for some reason. I have never asked why, if you must know.”
“Is that why you out here alone?” She asked.
“No,” He shook his head. “I don’t like cities, too noisy, and I prefer the chatter of the trees. I like my isolation. The more I’m alone, the more I can have time with the AllFather.”
Charity sat forward and asked, “Have you meet Him?”
Ansel laughed. “Oh no, I haven’t seen him just his massager. The angels stop here for my tea and conversation. Sadly, I don’t think my tea is all that good but don’t tell them that.”
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