The Great Tree of Avalon Read Online Free PDF Page A

houses, barns, weather vanes, and doors to cellars that held great vats of brewing beer. And they even dangled from the belts of people such as Lott. And Tamwyn himself, who wore a small quartz bell on the hip of his tunic . . . a bell that rang steadily whenever he ran through forests and vales, as free as a feather on a breeze.
    Twisting his head slightly against the bale, he peered down at the village. With so many identical houses—all built with the same flatrock walls, all in straight rows—the village resembled a field of big, squarish pumpkins. Even more so because it was now autumn, and like everywhere else in Stoneroot, the rocks were turning their seasonal shades of orange and gold. Even way up north, in the upper reaches of Stoneroot, where the drought seemed to be sapping the colors out of everything, the rocks still changed with the seasons.
    Tamwyn bit his lip, wondering. If the rocks of Stoneroot changed colors every autumn, winter, spring, and summer, would the same be true in Avalon’s other realms? All seven of those realms were roots of the same Great Tree, to be sure . . . but whether they, too, changed every season was a mystery. Would streams and ponds change color in Waterroot? How about the dark caverns of Shadowroot? And the legendary trees of Woodroot?
    He shook his head. Trees! Now that was really difficult to imagine. The very idea of a tree changing colors!
    With a sigh, he thought of how little he knew about his own realm, let alone the others. Even after seven years of exploring the wildest parts of Stoneroot, looking for Scree, he’d found no sign at all of his brother . . . and no end to the surprises of this realm. Not only in its varied landscape, but in its creatures, too—from the hill-tall giants of the high peaks to the tiny mite faeries whose largest village could fit on his thumbnail.
    Just how big Stoneroot really was, he could only guess. All he knew was that he could walk a full month in any direction from most parts of the realm and never reach the sea of mist that hugged its shores. And if it was so enormous, as just one root of the Great Tree . . . think how incredibly vast the Tree itself must be—combining the seven root-realms, the trunk that had barely even been explored, the magical portals inside the heartwood, whatever branches might exist, and the mysterious stars on high. Such size, such scale, was almost beyond imagining.
    “Are you dead or alive, you stupid slug? Here you are, just where I left you.”
    Lott’s voice jolted Tamwyn back to his job. He heaved himself up another rung. Only two more to go. Uuugggh . Just one left. He lifted his thigh, set his bare foot on the last rung, and—
    Oww! A louse bit the back of his ear. Furious, Tamwyn shut his eyes, trying to hold back his temper. Why’d you do that? he demanded with his thoughts—the same silent language that helped him talk with almost any creature. I’m not your next meal.
    The louse responded with another bite, this time on his earlobe.
    Stop , roared Tamwyn’s inner voice. By the Thousand Groves, stop! It took all his concentration to keep himself from dropping the bale. He couldn’t even reach up to rub his sore ear. All he could think about was climbing that very last step. Then he’d dump this cursed load—and promptly break the Drumadians’ first law, the one about never murdering a fellow creature. And enjoy it, every instant.
    He straightened his leg. The ladder creaked. Suddenly the rung under his foot snapped in two, pitching Tamwyn forward into the wall. His nose and cheek smashed into the stone. Desperately, he clutched at the ladder, and then at the bale that was slipping off his shoulder.
    Too late! The bale plunged to the ground and exploded at Lott’s feet in a black cloud of soot.
    “Fool of a . . . of a . . . of a fool! An acorn has more brains than you.” His whole body quivering, Lott glared up at him with eyes that could have set thatch aflame.
    “I’m sorry, Master