In which we meet Elias and things get hecking weird. 

It was a long, hot road to the thick of the forest. Gabriel rode on Caper, leading the way. Wescott, Elowyn, and Edem followed on their horses, Riser, Quill, and Camber, but the others had to walk. The northern end of the Low Country was flat and treeless, made up mostly of commercial farms. From time to time, the group came across a camp of refugees cooking their stews or biting small game meat off the bone. Once, a cart full of produce bound for Crow's Corner passed them on the dirt road. They were otherwise alone. Patch and Hollis scurried all over the place, racing each other and throwing rocks. When the group stopped for a rest, the little boys wandered into a nearby field, digging in the dirt with sticks.

"Stop it," Dale called to them. "You'll bring up the ants."

Who cares, prude? You're outdoors. There are ants. 

As the four on horses remounted, the boys rejoined them. Hollis fell into step next to Wescott, who, unbeknownst to Hollis himself, was ignoring him. "Ants bury their dead," Hollis said. "Did you know that? And one time when I was little, I knocked the top of an ant bed off to see what it looked like inside, and the ants came out with their larvae on their back and carried them to safety."

A bumblebee buzzed in menacing circles around Elowyn's head before shooting off. She called down to Hollis, "I have an ant trapped in amber in my room."

"Really?" Hollis asked.

Darius Draven had stayed behind. He was due back at the bay in two days. His children would attend the Black Forest council before returning home, but little boys had insisted on coming. Dale walked next to Ren, carrying his spear and a big stick, thinking deeply.

"What's the prophecy called again?" he asked Edem.

Edem slowed his horse to allow the Dravens to walk beside him.

"When the soul in the ebony tower dies,

The bones out of their graves shall rise.

But first the minds are stolen till

The tune is heard on the distant hill

And the man who was now is."

"What's a tune?" Hollis asked.

"Like a song?" Patch suggested.

"Yes, like a song," replied Edem. "But there used to be another quality to songs, besides singing. It was called music." He slowed to a stop and looked at the little boys. "When you hear birds singing, or when something is drumming and making a beat, that's like music."

Originally, there was no such thing as music, period, and the reason why was never even explained. In book two there's this really creepy scene reminiscent of The 100 Cupboards where a whole ballroom full of people dances to no music. Finally I decided this was totally implausible and then I reworked the whole magic system and linked music to it. 

"We have songs, though. We have the Two Little Boys song," said Patch. He began to sing, "Two little boys had two little toys. Each had a wooden horse."

It was Patch's favorite song, a tedious song about two brothers. The song did not explicitly state that the boys were brothers, but the Dravens had always assumed. The two little boys pretended to be warriors with their wooden horses until one boy broke off his horse's head. The other boy shared his horse with him, saying that he would never leave his brother when he had a wooden horse to share. Then the brothers grew up and rode real horses in a real war. One brother was injured and the other brother came to his rescue, saying that he would not leave him dying when there was room on his horse for two. The Dravens' mother sang it back when Dale and Gabriel were the little boys.

This song was going to have a weird parallel to the story. AKA Patch was supposed to die. But even by this point I knew I would never be able to do it. 

Gabriel, in the lead, slowed Caper to talk over his shoulder, interrupting Patch. "We're coming to the entrance. There will be a troll bridge."

"I wonder how much it is now," said Dale, heaving Patch up onto Caper so he could rest his short legs. "We used to come for the weekends."

"Does the water really taste like cherries?" Elowyn asked.

"That's kind of a tourist gimmick," Ren replied.

For a whole day's worth of mileage they had trod through unkempt fields with the Smoky River running alongside them, but now the dry grass gave way to softer, mossier ground. The river cut through the meadow and ran into a deep, dark woods. Across the river stretched a rusted bridge, halfway caved-in.

"He's gone," said Gabriel, puzzled.

"Who's gone?" asked Hollis.

"The troll you had to pay to get into the woods." Gabriel dropped to the ground to investigate. "Was he attacked?"

"Trolls are employed by the government. A lot of government jobs were cut," Wescott admitted despite himself. "It's money my uncle would rather spend elsewhere. Even if it's tax money."

Gabriel was jogging back now, shaking his hair off his face. "We'll have to go through the river. That bridge will never support your draft horses."

As soon as they entered the Black Forest, a woods so thick the sun could barely reach it, the temperature plummeted twenty degrees. They all raised their heads to meet the crisp air. Ren lifted her mess of straggling hair to cool her neck.

"Well," she said, "this place has changed."

In the days before Hollis and Patch existed, when Dale, Ren, and Gabriel were all under the age of ten and money was much more plentiful, they had traveled to the Black Forest with their parents for many a weekend stay. Families from all across the Low Country flocked there to stay in little cottages with flowers growing out front and squirrels hopping from roof to roof. There were woodcarvers and quilt makers, basket weavers, traveling theater troupes, firework shows put on by the wizards who operated the place, and a candy shop that made taffy, caramel, and ice cream. Dale, Ren, and Gabriel had traipsed across the forest spending their own coins, swimming in the springs, and playing with other children vacationing there. Terradonians stayed there, too, but they had their own side of the forest. 

Because heil Hitler. *frantic throat clear* I mean Conrad. 

But today there was no one, dark-haired nor light-haired. No children played with toy boats and balls. No women cooked over camping stoves. The red and brown paint of the cottages was peeling, the screen doors hanging loose and torn. Behind glass windows, the candy store was dark. Ren and her brothers peered inside to see cold, unused machinery.

"I don't get it," said Gabriel. "This was such a popular place in the summer."

"Did your uncle shut down state parks?" Dale asked Elowyn.

"Does the operation of state parks take tax money?" she replied.

"Yes," said Dale and Gabriel at once.

"Then yes. There used to be a public beach park on the Eastern Shore. That closed down, too."

"If no one's here, then why'd you bring us here?" Wescott called to Edem.

"Oh, we're bound to come across someone," said Edem vaguely, and turned his horse around.

Through the cool, dark silence Edem led them to a sun-speckled clearing with the cherry springs bubbling in the middle. There stood a round oak table with tree stumps for stools. "The council," said Dale.

"You've been here?" Gabriel asked.

But even Dale looked baffled. "I just recognized it somehow." (Dale still being weird and mysterious.) 

"The council of trees." Edem dismounted. He seemed years younger. "It has been long since I stood here."

"What's the council of trees?" Hollis asked.

"Shhh," said Wescott sharply, watching Edem.

Edem stood with his back to the seven others. He lifted his walking stick. "Kesper!" he called. "Elias!"

At his voice, the trees quaked. There were signs and groans like an old work horse awakened from its slumber. Glittering green leaves moved in a thousand directions like the ripples in water. And then from the top of the thickest tree, out of a rambling wooden structure perched there, came an old man, no taller than a blade of grass at his height.

"Who is it?" he crowed above the roar of the leaves.

"It's me!" shouted Edem.

"'Me' who?"

"Edem! Calm your trees down!"

"Silence!" ordered the old man.

The forest grew still again. The trees folded their leaves like a hen at roost.

"This is Elias," said Edem to the staring children. "A very, very old friend of mine. He runs the council of trees." He added in a low voice, "He's among the last of the Maleficus. A wood-wizard."

"Edem!" cried the very, very old friend, and let down a rope ladder.

The treehouse was illogically larger on the inside, big enough for bedrooms, bathrooms, pantries, a kitchen, libraries and studies, workshops and lairs, and a living room with glass windows on three sides, a fireplace, and an endless oak table at which the Huntians and Dravens were seated now. Since it was June, the fireplace was unlit, but pine branches scratched the windows and the house swayed relaxingly. Elias peered with silvery, glittering eyes from beneath his purple hood to serve sugar toast and apple tea. "I don't get many visitors here at my penthouse. Terrible times these are." Elias shook his white-haired head. He set down the teapot. "Cpnrad Daley even shut down our parks. With no parks, Kesper and I are out of work. In fact, Kesper retired to the Eastern Shore and is living off his nest egg." He peered out the window at a solid gold egg in a nest, tucked into a curve of a tree branch. "Mine is still growing."

So, this here is just weird, but in the rewrite (when this was turning into TBOS) I got this hilarious idea surrounding the nest eggs. Sadly it had to be scrapped, mostly because it had nothing to do with the plot whatosever. 

"You still run the council, do you not?" Edem questioned.

"Yes, but it's not enough." He brought a jar of honey to the table. "I've had to adapt. If the world must lose all sense of magic and turn to concrete technicalities, than so must I."

"Why do you have only one book?" asked Hollis, noting a single volume occupying a large shelf.

"It changes. It can be whatever book you need it to be," Elias replied absently-mindedly.

"What do you mean, 'adapt?'" asked Edem.

"Innovation! Machinery!" From the floor, Elias lifted a large box and set it onto the table. "Toys!"

He took out a train constructed from metal and when he clapped his hands, the train took off with a blast of an invisible whistle, tiny wheels churning into the table as it gained momentum, real smoke pouring from the smokestack. Patch and Hollis left their chairs for a better look. Elias looked unapologetically proud of himself. "I'm going to have it patented at the Terradon toy expo."

"There are already lots of toy trains," said Wescott cautiously.

"Yes, but do they have smoke and whistles?" Elias fired back.

Again he reached into the box, withdrawing a colorful wooden chicken in a wire box. The little boys peered into the box to see what else it contained. "This is the enchanted chicken. It can lay chocolate eggs and fortune cookies, tell time, and has a self-destruct feature."

Yes, there are all things we built out of Legos. 

ENOUGH WITH THE LEGOS PAST SELF. 

The old wizard clapped his wizened hands and the train grew still. He swept all the toys beneath the table. "Enough of this," he said. "Onto importance."

"Hollis, the medallions," said Edem.

Hollis rose triumphantly and placed all three medallions face-up on the tablecloth.

"That's them, all right," said Elias reverently. "The real thing."

Hollis spoke up. "I don't get why they're important. If the prophecy will happen, anyway, why do we even need them?"

"It matters! What if the Bellicans got their hands on them?" Elias dropped his voice to a brittle whisper. "The soul in the ebony tower dies. The Bellicans have no idea these words exist. Rex Bellum is strutting about his black tower now, oblivious to our plan."

"Rex Bellum?" Gabriel lifted his eyes. "That's who the prophecy is talking about?"

Elias shushed him. "Keep your voice down! I built my walls thin."

"People who find the medallions are supposed to have a role in bringing this all about." Wescott stared at the Dravens with his head low. "What can they do? They don't even swords."

Before anyone, particularly Gabriel, could respond, Elias turned to Ren. "What is your name?"

"Ren," she said without looking at him.

"Your real name."

She hesitated. "Catharine." (Ren now would never, ever admit this.) 

"You're not the first Catharine I ever knew." Elias faced the group again. "The first Catharine Draven knew a lot more than this one."

"I was only nine when she died," said Gabriel. "But I always felt like...there must have been a thousand things she wasn't telling us."

"I feel that way about Edem!" Elowyn put in.

"And rightfully so!" Elias pointed his finger at each person. "I suppose no one ever told you half-orphaned kids about the Council of Three. And what it meant for your parents."

Patch absently reached for the milk pitcher while listening to Elias. The pitcher skittered out of his reach. He lunged after it and snatched it hard, jostling the table.

"Good boy! He'll get away if you let him," said Elias.

"The milk?" asked Elowyn.

"He's not used to visitors," Elias explained.

Patch uncurled his fingers one at a time, waiting to see if the milk ran away again. It did not. Everyone looked at it.

"What about our parents?" Dale asked.

"Oh." Elias assumed his thunderous air again. "The Council of Three. A certain Edem, Gideon, and Catharine, just children when they joined—"

"Wait!" Elowyn interrupted. "Their mother knew Edem and my father?"

"Oh, they were great friends. Knew each other nearly all their lives."

"But how?" asked Gabriel.

Elias chewed his last bit of crust. "Let's....we'll call it haunted." He swallowed. "All three of them. Creatures in the shadows, the wind speaking in a voice, fire going out when they walked past it. They would go to look in a mirror and someone else's face would be in it. And much, much worse. Stories that would make anyone afraid to sleep."

"Haunted isn't real," said Patch after an apprehensive glance at Ren.

"Isn't it?" Elias looked at him. "Aren't the realest things in the world the bits we can't see? And we're just a pawn at their beck and mercy."

"But what was it, really?" asked Dale.

"They were being contacted, by both sides. Bellica has their wizards too, you know. Dark wizards. Drawing in whoever they can to become machines of murder."

"Who was the wizard on the other side?" asked Elowyn.

"Brim, of course."

The air inside grew cooler. The trees rocked harder and nearly tipped the milk jug. Hollis and Patch grabbed it at once.

"Thank you," Elias told them politely.

"Brim's a wizard?" asked Dale.

"The greatest one of all!" said Elias. "He was the first Maleficus and he will be the last. Didn't your mother tell you?"

"I knew my mother knew Brim," said Gabriel to himself.

"More than knew him," said Elias. "She loved him. She learned under him for so long. Edem, Gideon, and Catharine were people of tremendous power. Seers. They could see the invisible world. They could see beyond. In fact, they were meant to fulfill their very own prophecy, much like yours. It was called the Prophecy of Three."

"Did they do it?" asked Elowyn.

"No. They had all reached adulthood and were nearing the end of their training." Edem let out a long, tired breath, as if he had held it in for years. "They had a final quest: make it to the Highlands. You all know what a dangerous route that is. Most people won't even admit the Highlands are real."

"People think that the Highlands and the Low Country used to be one place, but something happened to the Highlands part to make it break out to the ocean," Hollis interrupted.

"Hush," Wescott told him.

Why don't you hush, Wes. Of course I can't blame you for being miserable. You're stuck in this book. 

But Elias was paying attention. He lowered his voice even more. "You know what else? When you step over the Highlands border, you break the seal of time and live forever. That was the plan. The three would reach the Highlands to become an immortal super army to defeat the growing rage of the Bellican government. They would live forever."

"That clearly didn't happen," said Wescott darkly.

"No," said Elias sorrowfully. "Catharine was the youngest of the three, but she was already married. She refused to become immortal if her husband could not. I had hopes she would change her mind." He nodded at Dale. "But then she had a baby. I knew all chance was gone then. No one can be asked to outlive their child."

"And our father didn't go?" Elowyn asked.

"No. He chose to rule his people." Elias leaned back, staring out the window at things that had happened long ago. "Edem would not do it alone. He started his own family and became a teacher."

"Seems a bit selfish," remarked Elowyn.

"You have no idea, the things they saw," said Elias. "You didn't see Brim. Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, Brim made it to the Highlands. He aged to about fifty or sixty and then stopped. All these endless, terrible years. It's too much to handle. He's become what you might call a hermit."

This made no sense to Gabriel. "Why?"

"He'll outlive everyone!" Elias exploded. "EVERY.ONE. Young, old, people and animals. Why, he's even outlived some of the trees he planted! It's unnatural. It does something to you. Watching everyone else meet the fate you know you never will."

If you've read the real series, then this will make no sense to you. In this version, Brim was once just an ordinary human, who only happened to become the greatest wizard of all time. Then he became immortal, because in this version the rumor about the Highlands was true. Because of course it was. Everything was implausible. 

"Still," Gabriel said. "Living forever."

Elias looked at him for a disconcerting number of seconds. "He was fine, for so very many years," he said. "Then he fell in love with an ordinary woman and they had a son. Brim was fully aware of the eventual consequences, and he did it anyway. Love is the antithesis of practicality, in most cases. The wife died of old age, and the son, knowing what his own death would do to his father, chose to go to the Highlands himself. He chose immortality."

"And?" said Gabriel.

"They never made it. That sea tries to kill all who enter it. Their boat was splintered, the boy killed. Brim sailed back alone. He was never happy again. After the Prophecy of Three failed, he returned to his home and never left."

Elias set down his cup. Still he looked hard at Gabriel. "There is far, far worse than death."

The house had gone quiet still. Even Patch was transfixed by the story.

Why shouldn't Patch be transfixed? He's the brightest of all Dravens. I swear you can't even name the identifying traits of the characters here. 

Elias took the clinking medallions into his hands. "Brim breathed a new order into the air. The children of the original three would have the prophecy fall into their hands. They would bring about what their parents could not accomplish. After Gideon was taken, the Prophecy of Seven was officially written. Edem was there at its creation."

"But Wescott is right," Gabriel interjected. "We don't even have swords."

Again, Elias reached beneath the table, this time coming up with a wooden chest. Inside were seven swords of varying lengths and weights.

"No one is making you do this," said Elias. "Plenty of people deny prophecies. Your own parents did. But remember, with everything you do, you are either fighting for the force of good or for the force of evil. There is no such thing as in-between."

The Dravens and Huntians sat listening to the creaking treehouse, the wind, the clock, their own noisy breath. The seconds slipped by and melted into the lengthening summer day. Gabriel rose unsteadily to his feet and grasped the handle of a sword.

"I'll do it," he said. "To bring my mother back."

Wescott, not to be outdone, noisily pushed back his own chair. "And my father."

All at once, seven hands were plunging into the armory. The little boys unsheathed their short swords right away. Ren rested the heavy blade in her left hand. "We don't know how to use these."

"We'll teach you," said Elowyn eagerly.

And Hollis, holding his sword to the light, finally noticed the one person who had been missing nearly the whole time. "Where did Edem go?"