Dreamthief

by Tamara Grantham

Thirty-seven

  Uli flew down into the tree, past the glowing baubles, past the laughter and people. Deeper and deeper, until the darkness overtook us.

  She pulled a light from her pack. The small, glowing bauble barely illuminated the roots and dirt as we flew faster and faster. A tinkling sound came from somewhere, reminding me of the wind chimes on my mother’s porch. Strange. Such a familiar sound seemed wrong in a place as dark as this.

  The smell of damp earth filled my nostrils. Uli flew as if she were in a trance, as if, as soon as the pixie king had granted his permission, a spell had been broken. She flew with the stealth of a ghost. Faster and faster, until I was sure we must have flown to the center of the earth. But the tunnel only continued downward. It branched into different directions, but at every cross section, she didn’t hesitate.

  My ribs ached where she held me. “How far is it?” I called. But either she didn’t hear me, or she ignored me.

  I estimated that we had flown for several hours by the time we finally stopped at a shallow root outcropping. I sat between two shoots, feeling grateful for a moment’s rest. Uli pulled two jars from her pack and passed one to me. “Eat,” she said.

  I eyed the jar as I removed the lid. I couldn’t tell what was inside besides a large, gray lump. Uli ate without speaking, her eyes unfocused. I took a small taste of the paste and found it tasted a little like corn meal, so I took a larger bite.

  “This is a strange place,” I said to break up the silence. My voice echoed through the tunnels. Chimes tinkled in the distance. The sound must have been some sort of magic that came from the tree. Given that they sounded so familiar to me, I suspected the tree knew I was coming.

  “The tunnels were not created by my people,” she offered. “They have been here since the beginning of time.”

  “How did you know about these tunnels?”

  “The tree—it called to me.” She took another bite, her gaze still unfocused.

  “How far are we?”

  She shook her head. “Not far. Are you prepared, Deathbringer?”

  Again with the nickname. Ugh.

  “As prepared as I can be under the circumstances. I have no idea what to expect.”

  “It is better that you don’t.”

  I took a small bite, wondering if I should bring up the subject I knew would be touchy. But I knew she needed someone to talk to. Isolation is hard on the soul. “Uli, where is your family?”

  “They live in the inner tree,” she answered after a pause. “My father,” she hesitated, “he is the king.”

  Ah, this made sense. I’d wondered how she was able to get an audience with His Majesty on such short notice. “You are the princess?”

  “No.” She hung her head. “Not anymore. Not after I refused the marriage. Not after I allowed the Wult man to rescue me.”

  “Wult man?”

  “He rescued me at the risk of his own life.”

  Thousands of miles away, and still I had to be reminded of him. Heidel had once spoken of an Ulizet. I should have put two and two together sooner. “Kull,” I said.

  “Do you know him, Deathbringer?”

  “I might have. A long time ago.”

  “Did he rescue you as well?”

  “No. I wouldn’t call it a rescue. Rescue is something you do for someone who’s helpless.”

  “Do you think I am helpless?” Her wide eyes stared up at mine.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She replaced the lid on her jar without speaking.

  Way to go, Olive. Always tactful, as usual.

  “I was proud like you before I found the tree. I wished for no one’s help but my own. It is one reason I found the tree. But it is why the tree stole my mind, so that I would have to live forever alone, because no one wants me as I am now.”

  “Surely someone wants you, Uli.”

  “No,” she said matter-of-factly. She stood and replaced the jar in her bag. I watched her move with quiet movements. Her wings rustled over damp roots. Would the tree make me become someone like her? Our meeting couldn’t have been an accident. Was she some sort of envoy sent by the tree? If so, then she was also my warning. My living, breathing example of what I was soon to become. I almost considered turning around.

  “The way is long,” she said, her voice distant. “But we will not rest again. The tree demands your presence. Are you ready?”

  I stood. “How could you know that the tree demands my presence?”

  She tapped her head. “I hear it always.”

  “You speak to the tree?”

  A wicked grin curved around her mouth, showing off her canine teeth. “It will speak to you as well. Soon.” Her wings gave a tiny flutter. She stood alert, as if listening to something. In the distance, the wind chimes pealed, the way they had sounded the day I’d stood on my mother’s front porch, waiting to go inside for the first time.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked her.

  She grabbed me up before I got an answer. I felt like a rag doll under her arms, but I couldn’t complain. It would have taken days to walk through this place.

  The brown earth blurred in my vision. Smells of damp, fertile ground filled my nose. Hours seemed like days down here. Uli flew until I thought her wings would fall off. How long had we been flying? Four hours? Five? I slept on and off, but when I woke to the same monotony, I closed my eyes once again.

  Something woke me. Up ahead, a pinprick of light appeared. It was so tiny it seemed to bob in and out of appearance. I blinked, and it became brighter.

  “Is that the tree?” I asked Uli.

  She didn’t answer as we rocketed forward. Wind brushed my cheeks. Fresh air replaced the rich scent of earth.

  The tunnel widened. The light ahead illuminated walls covered in soft green moss. Water trickled, mingled with the sounds of the chimes. We entered an enormous cavern.

  The light shone bright, but not enough to blind me. Its beams were the color of the moon, a soft blue that filled the cavern with warmth. Its rays shone from a tree made of bleached-white limbs.

  “We have found it,” she whispered.

  She placed me on the ground, and my feet sank into a carpeting of moss. When I looked at the tree, my breath caught in my throat. The word sacred came to mind. There was a reason only a few people had ever seen this tree. Something like this couldn’t be shared with anyone.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, though it seemed a poor description for something so breathtaking.

  “To take a piece of the pure magic for your own, you must communicate with the tree. Come.” She took my hand and walked forward. With each step, my heart pounded. Silvery-white branches curved from a stout base, taller than I had expected. I felt small and powerless before it, yet somehow comforted at the same time.

  Thoughts raced through my head. What would happen to me once I touched it? Would I know what to say? How could I avoid losing my mind, or better yet, my life?

  “Do not worry,” Uli said as if sensing my thoughts. “The Ever Root knows your soul. You have nothing to fear.”

  Knows my soul. Great. I wasn’t a perfect person by any means. I’d done some pretty selfish stuff in my lifetime. But the closer I drew to the tree, I knew that none of it mattered.

  We stopped underneath the branches, and its glowing light enveloped us, warming us. My doubts melted away as I stood in its presence.

  “Whenever you feel ready,” she spoke softly, “touch the tree.”

  With my doubts no longer nagging me, I reached out. The tree’s bark felt warm under my fingers. The comforting feeling became so overwhelming tears leaked from my eyes.

  You are loved.

  I heard the voice in my head, so loud someone could have shouted it, yet so calm I felt it deep in my soul.

  A burst of white light glowed from the tree. Beside me, I watched Uli transform. Her dirty rags disappeared, replaced with a flowing white gown. Her tangled hair was replaced with long, silver strands. Sh
e looked ethereal, as beautiful as the tree. When she smiled, I felt calmness in her expression.

  “You have found me,” she said.

  It took a moment to find my voice. “Who are you?”

  “I speak for the tree. Whatever you desire, let it be known.”

  Asking for pure magic seemed so trite now, but I knew that my godson would die without it. “Pure magic,” I spoke. “I must break through the goblin’s wall.”

  Ulizet’s eyes were like twin solar systems. I couldn’t think of a better way to describe them. It was as though the mysteries of the universe—all the knowledge, all the secrets—were stored within those two eyes.

  “You shall have what you desire. But know this, for every gift given, a price must be paid. Are you prepared to pay the price?”

  I swallowed. For the first time since I’d seen the tree, I felt uneasy. “What is the price?”

  “You are to see three visions—the most harrowing memory of your past, a happening of the present, and a vision of Faythander’s future.”

  “That’s all?”

  She nodded.

  This wasn’t so bad. I thought I’d have to sacrifice my mind or something. I could deal with this. It seemed a little similar to what Scrooge went through, but luckily, I wasn’t a penny-pinching hoarder who screwed over kids with disabilities. If I had to see something awful from my past, I knew I could handle it. The other two visions I worried about more. “Very well,” I answered. “I agree to pay the price.”

  Ulizet didn’t answer at first. She only stared at me with those twin universe eyes, as if looking into my thoughts and finding my worst one. “Do not answer so quickly. The price will not be as you expect.”

  Her words made me pause but weren’t enough to make me reconsider. “I am prepared to pay.”

  “Very well. Hold out your hand.”

  I did as she asked. Ulizet held a small sachet that glowed the same color as the tree. The pure magic. As soon as the package touched my palm, the world disappeared.

  “You have been warned.” I heard Ulizet’s voice as if she spoke from a million miles away.