“It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to him,” Emont muttered. “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to any of us.”
Kazuaki pondered the request. An army of people who already despised Darjal seemed like a tempting offer, but what was the value in an army of civilians? They might make one lucky shot in a dozen attempts, but all they would become were corpses in an unpleasant war. Then again, it was better than nothing. “We’ll let Umbriel finish what needs to be done in this factory,” he said. “Then we’ll allow you to take us to your slums.”
Emont frowned and looked at his companions. All appeared to accept their fate. Kazuaki and his crew made short work of them. They dared not disagree with his plan. “Can someone at least assist Jodathyn while we wait? He’s got a wife and kids waiting for him.”
Elowyn looked to the captain for his response. Though his face remained stern, he issued her an approving nod. The medic wasted no time and rushed over to her pack to gather supplies.
“Forgive me,” Emont said as Elowyn returned to Jodathyn’s side and cleansed the wound, “but how are a few plants going to help Southern?” He never saw a plant before, let alone knew their primary purpose. He had a hard time believing something so small could make much of a difference.
Umbriel motioned Nicholai over to her and he approached. She laid more seeds out and grew them several inches in height within seconds. Her eyes fell on the Southeastern Time Father as he tried once again to advance their growth, succeeding far sooner in raising the plants an additional several inches higher now than he had before. His surprise remained clear, and he smiled in astonishment despite the small growth. Umbriel smiled too, congratulating Nicholai with a light pat on the shoulder. She looked over her shoulder at Emont. “I’ll show you,” she said, “when we get to your slums.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The time spent in the factory stretched into the fourth day. While the five assailants remained captive during that time, as Kazuaki had no intention of letting loose ends run amok, they weren’t treated like prisoners. Everyone received their three square meals. Brack, Bermuda, and Bartholomew switched shifts on who gathered the market supplies. There was no new information. They returned with enough food to feed the people who dwelled within the safety of the crumbling factory. But while the crew gained no new insights during their stay, they exposed Emont, Lakow, Jodathyn, and the others to an environment far beyond what they were used to.
Umbriel and Nicholai worked around the clock to fill plant life throughout the building. Various mosses covered the rusting shreds of metal, turning the dull browns and oranges into multiple shades of fresh green. The floor, once half-covered with remnants of old metal, flourished with an assortment of perennials that stretched through the factory’s entirety.
Vines crawled up the edges of the building, finding any little spot in the decaying metal where they could grip and climb. Dwarf trees sprouted and reached to the height of an adult. Vegetables and flowers sprouted and bloomed, bringing pops of color to the cacophony of earth tones.
The Time Father and Earth Mother worked in amazing synchronicity. Whatever years Nicholai gave of himself to the plants, Umbriel replenished with her skillset, manipulating his tired body and breathing new life back into it. When both felt the heavy effects of their efforts, they stopped and rested, jumping back in as soon as they felt they could. What once existed as a dark, sullen place shifted into a veritable forest, trapped inside the walls of an abandoned building. It was, for all intents and purposes, like living in a giant greenhouse.
When they found no more room to grow additional plants, Nicholai gazed around to admire their work. It represented Umbriel’s island, a place he never thought he’d see the likes of again until this moment. To know he had an active part in creating it eased the burden he placed on himself for his past sins. With more effort like this, perhaps he could save the world he helped destroy.
Lilac would love this place, he thought to himself. It was a larger version of the vision her father held, with hundreds of species living inside the walls as opposed to a handful. When he figured out a way to free her from her fate, he would take her here ... and show her where it all began.
Umbriel walked over to the group, her hands behind her back. “I think we’ve done all we can here,” she said, gazing around to take in the magnificent sight. “Just think ... in ten years, most of Panagea could look like this.”
Emont looked around, impressed at the evolution the building underwent in the days he sat trapped inside it. He couldn’t deny how impressive it was, but even with days worth of conversation from the others detailing how it helped Panagea, he failed to see its future effectiveness. “It’s ... certainly something else,” he said with skepticism, trying not to come across as doubtful in front of the men and women who could kill him at a moment’s notice.
“This is for you,” Umbriel handed him a plump, ripe tomato.
Emont arched a brow and stared down at it, confused. “Thanks,” he replied, awkwardly taking the smooth vegetable into his hands.
“It’s food,” Umbriel explained with a patient smile. “Try it. There’s a bunch of them back in that corner,” she said, motioning behind her.
Emont did not seem eager to try it. But with the heat of Kazuaki glaring down on him, he forced himself to take a bite. After some thoughtful chewing, his disinterest faded, replaced with surprise. “This is delicious,” he said, wiping liquid and seeds off his chin with his sleeve.
“Almost everything here is edible,” Umbriel explained as she motioned to the wide array of greenery. “I can educate you on their nutritional content. But know if anyone in your slums is starving, and they’re unable to afford the food at the market, they can always come here. I can teach a few of you what to look for when certain harvests are ripe, how to sow your own seeds, how to keep this place thriving. With enough gentle hands and more expansion of our efforts, you’ll never put your children to bed hungry again.”
Emont looked overwhelmed. He stared down at the tomato in his hands, a look of awe on his face. At that moment, he saw. He witnessed the raw power of Umbriel’s creation. Perhaps this strange band of people could initiate a change for the good. The realist in him held on to a shred of skepticism, but he opened to the possibility. “Thank you,” he said, more genuine this time. “Anything we can do to help, just let me know.”
Umbriel smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You could take us to your slums. I would like to plant there too.”
“Yes,” Emont nodded as he looked toward his companions. He wished to return to those he left behind. They likely assumed him captured or dead after the days he spent here. His return would bring relief, especially since hopeful news accompanied him. “I’ll take you there right away.”
Both groups gathered their belongings and readied for departure. Two men flanked either side of Jodathyn to help him walk; his calf imposed on him. While Kazuaki remained apprehensive about departing in a large group, the lack of footmen eased his concerns.
Nicholai stared at Umbriel’s and his efforts for a moment longer. It was incredible to think this much life could hide inside a building that appeared unassuming from the outside. The more decrepit structures they filled like this before the footmen discovered their efforts, the more hope he harbored for their overall success.
Following Emont to the slums replaced much of Nicholai’s hope with nausea. The several mile walk displayed nothing but chronic deterioration. The marketplace and Avadon’s center, while depressing looking in their own right, looked like pieces of pristine beauty when compared to the land that led to the heart of the slums.
Instead of somewhat functional buildings, most of the architecture existed as rubble. Clear evidence of the natural disasters that ravaged the town was visible upon entering Emont’s ‘home’. Makeshift tents, propped up with fallen steel beams and chunks of metal, served as shelters for the hundreds of people who struggled across the decrepit place.
Emont read the looks on the faces of the crew as they carried themselves further into the tangible torture pit. He sighed, directing his words to them as he walked, “I know it’s not an easy place to look at. But we’re doing the best with what we have.”
“Daddy!” Jodathyn’s children ran up to him, two girls and a boy, none of which had seen over eight years of age. The man’s eyes widened with extreme intensity as the children wrapped their arms around his legs, applying pressure to his throbbing calf injury.
“What happened? Where were you?” They fired questions at him without mercy, ecstatic to see their father returned from whatever kept him away.
Revi couldn’t help but watch. That could have been him if he had the guts to go back. But several days was a far different time span than ten years. Some of his children were almost adults now. With any luck, they faired at life far better than he had. The current state of the world dimmed his hopes. The large number of people who perished in the disasters made a small part of him wonder if his children were still alive. His stomach twisted at the thought as his eyes wandered back toward the bodies they passed. Any of those faceless corpses could have been one of the Houton children. It filled him with a resolve to continue the mission.
“Never mind all that,” Jodathyn said to his children as he placed his hands on two of their heads. “Where’s your mother?”
“Over here!” the eldest daughter yelled, pulling Jodathyn out from the arms of the two who provided him with standing support. His eyes widened as the heat of a thousand suns burned up through the back of his leg, but he forced himself onward with limited signs he was in pain, as not to cause additional alarm to his children.
Emont watched him go with mild concern but left the man to his own decisions. “This way,” he told the collective group, bringing them over to a large tarp that stretched twenty feet in the sky, held up by ropes and stakes. It was a mangled looking thing, offering limited protection from the elements, but it still housed many people beneath it.
Most huddled around three large drums filled with burning rubbish. Though it was not cold, the paleness of their skin and sunken sockets of their eyes left little doubt they were ill, feeling even the minor absence of heat through their bones.
“What exactly is your plan?” Kazuaki muttered, unimpressed by the haggard individuals who surrounded him. “You cannot stand there and tell me you would expect these people to successfully mount any sort of resistance. They’re half dead as it is.”
“Kazuaki,” Umbriel sent him a stare that encouraged him to show empathy.
Emont sighed. “It’s okay, Umbriel. Your captain speaks the truth. Though the footmen’s presence is low and we have numbers on our side, unfortunately, the state of our numbers is sad. It hasn’t grown beyond an idea. A hopeful one at best,” he continued, crossing his arms. “But we can’t very well sit here and continue to rot.”
“You need your people in good health if their voices are to be heard,” Umbriel said. “How often do you see foot soldiers in the slums?”
Emont laughed. “This is a lawless place. They don’t care what happens to us here. The closest they’ll come is the edges of the marketplace in the heart of town. Rumors have spread about the dangers that await in the slums. They don’t want to be here anymore than we do.”
“Good,” Umbriel said, a smile coming to her face. “Then with your permission, Emont, we would like to help.”
It did not take long to see a change. Those who were strong enough cleared the rubble from the earth and placed it in piles. ‘Round the clock, the forgotten civilians of Avadon and other surrounding cities who sought refuge in the slums abided by Umbriel’s instruction.
Once the grounds opened to expose the dirt beneath, Umbriel planted her seeds, and Nicholai, growing more successful in his efforts with each passing day, brought new life to the decaying place. They were careful not to grow anything that may come within eyesight of those in the town center; no towering plants, only low-growing vegetables, and fruit-bearing shrubs.
As the project continued day after day, Bartholomew offered instructional classes on how to nurture the plants, information he learned from Umbriel and a few of his books.
Elowyn provided medical care for as many individuals as she could though the number of injured people was great. Her supplies dwindled by the second day. Despite the setback, she made do with the medicinal plants Umbriel and Nicholai grew upon realizing the need for them. Natural pain relievers and plants with antibacterial capabilities were amongst the most necessary, but for every one they cut down to use, the Earth Mother and Time Father grew ten more in its place.
Kazuaki instructed Emont on battle tactics, unleashing hundreds of years worth of strategies on the man who rose to be the voice of the slums.
Granite showed those who listened how to fashion weaponry out of everyday garbage. Anything that filed to a point was enough to pierce a person. The duller, the better. He made many close-combat pieces with other civilians while his dog roamed, playing fetch with the children of the slums. The animal was the biggest provider of joy amongst the young ones, a fine babysitter while the adults labored long into the day.
At night, they gathered by the various fires and showed the people how to prepare foods plucked from the gardens. The forgotten people congregated in droves for the stews and soups, regaining their strength as they recovered from starvation and found remedies for infected wounds. Physical differences weren’t the only notable changes. Mentally, emotionally, the people grew in spirit and resolve.
Once their efforts outgrew the slums, Emont snuck Umbriel and Nicholai into the city limits, with Kazuaki, Bermuda, Revi, and Brack as their eyes and ears while they worked. In the many trips he made to the marketplace to scout out patrons to mug, he familiarized himself with which buildings remained abandoned. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there were many.
It was strange for him, a man who grew up in Avadon his entire life. When he was a child into his young adult years, there was never an unutilized structure. It was required that not a single piece of land went without serving a purpose. But as the disasters grew in frequency, and Darjal poured more of Southern’s finances into the ship's construction and the integrity of the churches, more factories and plants fell into disrepair.
It was exhausting work. Umbriel and Nicholai toiled in yet another uninhibited factory, putting the finishing touches on any usable space available for more greenery. The Earth Mother looked fatigued, matched only by Nicholai, as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“How are you doing, Nicholai?” Umbriel asked, breathing hard as she leaned against a wall.
Nicholai spun a complete circle to take in the surrounding sight. Though he grew accustomed to seeing vast assortments of life clinging to eroded metal and rocky terrain, he still smiled at the magnificence. “I’m doing all right,” he replied. “No matter how many times we do this, it reminds me of a place. A place I hold near and dear to my heart.” He yawned, then turned to her with calmed contentment. “It makes it easier to keep going. Even when exhaustion sets in.”
“Indeed, it does.” She took a cue from Nicholai and yawned herself. “Our efforts put me in mind of the redwood tree. I would love to grow one when the time is right.”
Nicholai stretched his arms over his head and tried to banish the tiredness from his limbs. “What’s stopping you?”
“Oh, they’re far too grand a tree to grow in secrecy,” she explained, closing her eyes to r
evel in the quiet, for she knew it wouldn’t last long. “They can grow one hundred feet tall in only fifty years; an impressive feat on its own, but when you think of their true potential ... they can reach heights of over three hundred and fifty feet and live for thousands of years.” Her eyes opened and her gaze fell on the Time Father. “Just like our little revolution. Such impressive growth in so short a time, but when I think of the potential ... it sends a positive shiver up my spine.”
Nicholai’s lips tugged into a silent smile. He walked over to a patch of immature ivy, holding out his hand as he gave his years to it. The plant sprawled along the length of the wall, falling into the imperfect cracks in the building’s questionable structure. It grew six feet before he dropped his hand to his side.
“You’re getting very good at that.” She walked over to him and touched his shoulder, regenerating the life he gave to the vines.
Nicholai smirked. “I had a good teacher.”
“Looks like we’re about to wrap it up here,” Kazuaki said, careful as he walked over some colorful flowers on the factory’s ground. “You both have enough left in you to do one more today?”
Umbriel and Nicholai nodded in unison as they looked over to Emont. “Where to next?” the Time Father asked.
Before Emont answered, a low rumble sounded below their feet. He looked on as the seconds passed, familiar with the reverberations by now. Though he remained calm at first, he grew more concerned as the vibrations continued.
When they grew in length and intensity, his expression became one of full-on panic. “Run,” he stated, knowing full well that dwelling in an already decaying structure was a death sentence when the quakes hit. “It’s a big one.”
Everyone bolted for the door. It was chaotic running on the ground as the earth thundered beneath their feet. Kazuaki threw open the door and ushered everyone out, slamming it behind him after they all exited. Screams rose from the townsfolk who walked Avadon’s streets. The violent shrieks escalated in hysteria as a tall housing complex shattered from the base. The screech of yielding metal pierced the brains of all within earshot as floor by floor, the building collapsed, the foundation weakened from months of on-going plates shifting below Panagea’s surface.
The Panagea Tales Box Set Page 31