Chapter 10
Under a Sky So Blue
Justin stepped back from the tree. Then he stepped toward it again and placed his hand against it. The silvery bark felt cool and rough under his skin. It also felt hard and solid, and he couldn’t see any sign or mark of the entrance through which Daphne had vanished. He stepped back again and looked up at the pale leaves shining in the early dawn light. “Well?” he asked. “What happens now?”
There was no answer. The crowd behind him was silent.
A cry went up from far away across the city and a moment later a horn blast echoed through the streets. Justin nodded to himself.
The enemy is coming.
Whatever Daphne had done to delay the army of Kerys had failed and now they were coming at last. He looked at the dented, rusted sword hanging on his hip like a tired old friend. He took the cracked and rattling musket from his shoulder and gripped it tightly as he looked at the trunk of the Silver Ash and said, “Good bye.”
He turned to leave, intending to march down the long cold streets of Trevell to his post on the wall, to take his place beside his friends and comrades, to fight, and most likely, to die. But before he had taken two steps a faint gasp ran through the crowd as those hundreds of men and women all inhaled as one. They were all staring at something behind him. Justin turned back to look at the tree.
A flush of color had appeared on the trunk of the tree in streaks and patches. Where before there had only been white or gray or silver, now there was a deep rich brown, a warm color that shimmered with hints of green and gold in the tiny crevices of the bark. The color swelled and swept upward, painting the entire trunk and every branch down to the smallest twig in the dark hues of earth and moss. And then one by one, the thin white leaves began to blush.
At first Justin thought they were turning yellow and brown as all trees turn in autumn, but instead he saw them becoming a dark shining gold, all veined and edged in dark crimson that glittered like rubies in the sunlight. A fresh breeze rushed through the tree’s branches and the bright new colors washed over every leaf in a single wave from one side to the other.
No one spoke. No one cheered or cried or laughed. And Justin realized they were still holding their breath, still waiting. He didn’t know what this change meant. No one had seen the Silver Ash reborn in a hundred years, and no one knew whether this change was their long-awaited miracle, or yet another strange disaster.
Again, a sharp gasp ran through the crowd as everyone looked away from the tree and saw the city of Trevell behind them, and around them, and below them. Smooth black stones shone in the streets where sheets of muddy filth had lain just a moment ago. Cracked and crumbling stone walls now stood tall and straight and whole. Windows gleamed, wood glistened, shingles sat in orderly rows, and bricks nestled snuggly in their mortar. Everything broken was fixed, everything dirty was clean, and everything old was new again.
Justin couldn’t speak, could barely even breathe. Everywhere he looked he saw something else that had changed. A stone, a sign, a wall, a door. Every street looked strange and new as though the city that he had known all his life had vanished and been replaced by this other one, this better one. The city that Trevell was meant to be. He wondered for a moment what his own house looked like.
The squeaky floorboard? The leaky roof? Is it all fixed now? Is everything the way it’s supposed to be now?
All of the things that had defied his attempts at repair for so long might now be set right. His home, their home, the home he shared with… He swallowed and glanced down at the gleaming new musket in his hands and the sharp new saber sheathed at his side.
Daphne did her part. Now I must do mine.
Justin ran across the square and down the hill, barely seeing the new houses and shops and stables and storehouses as he rushed past. He ran and ran without stopping. When he reached his guard house behind the eastern wall his legs were aching and his lungs were burning, and he charged up the sturdy wooden steps to the top of the wall where his men were waiting and he looked out over the grassy fields.
The army of Kerys was marching up the road, a great steely serpent of men winding its way through the fields from the river. They stood six abreast in their blue uniforms, muskets at the ready. The commanders rode horses at the head of the column and soon they rounded the last bend in the road and began their final approach to Trevell.
Justin nodded to his men and together they raised their muskets and lined up along the wall. To their left and right, Justin saw the other companies arrayed as far as the eye could see, hundreds of young soldiers taking their positions, preparing to defend their homes, their families, and each other.
“Wait for the command,” Justin said. He knew no man would fire until their commander blew the horn to sound the attack. And he prayed that the horn would never sound, that the silence would stretch on forever, that this battle would never come to be.
They stood on the wall, waiting with bated breath, each man staring down the length of his bright new musket at the column of men from Kerys marching ever closer. The sound of the enemy boots pounded the earth like distant drums and Justin tried to count them, but then he stopped. There were too many.
The Kerys commanders drew their swords, tiny steel sabers shining in the sunlight, and Justin knew the moment had come. The cries of battle, the thunder of muskets, the rage and the agony, and the fear. Of it all, the only one he already understood was the fear.
But I’ll know the rest soon enough.
The Kerys commanders raised their swords high over their heads and shouted to their men. The soldiers in blue raised their muskets as they marched.
Justin closed his eyes for a moment just to remember Violet, little Violet in her mother’s arms, and Daphne, Daphne as she sat down in the heart of the Silver Ash. Just their faces. Just for a moment. Then he opened his eyes and emptied his mind, and waited. The trigger of his musket felt warm against his skin.
The wind began to whistle along the top of the wall, and it swiftly grew to a gust and then a torrent. The tall grasses outside the city lay down in rippling waves. The red banners of Trevell snapped loudly above them and high overhead the dark storm clouds hurried over and under and through each other, rolling and tumbling across the sky.
Justin ignored it all, and waited.
The clouds began to thin and break apart, and bright pools and rivers of blue emerged from the gloom. The sea of thunderheads shattered and melted, becoming nothing but islands of clouds and wisps of vapor. The world brightened.
The grasses below grew greener, the river a deeper blue, and the clouds faded from angry shades of iron to soft bundles of white. And as the clouds parted, the sun burst forth and blazed down with all its golden glory and fury.
Though still early morning, the world shone forth as bright and clear as high noon, the light streaming down in heavenly spears and banners, stampeding down to earth. And when the light struck the city of Trevell, every stone and beam and glass shone back in a flood of piercing golden light.
Justin squinted against the glare and he looked back over his shoulder, just for a moment, and saw the great ash tree shining at the top of the hill behind him. He turned back quickly, still ready for the terrible task at hand. But the Kerys commanders had lowered their swords and the soldiers had lowered their muskets. They stopped marching and for a long moment no one moved. Then the commanders sheathed their swords, turned their horses around, and led their army away. Justin stayed at the wall, as did every man beside him, until the last soldier in blue had disappeared over the horizon. And only then did he begin to breathe again.
He stood up straight and put down his musket. He looked across the faces of his friends as the first shouts of joy broke across the walls, and soon everyone else was yelling and cheering and embracing the man beside him.
It was over.
All day long there were celebrations in the streets as the people of Trevell explored their new homes and shops, and the far
mers came in from the fields with tales of towering rows of wheat and apples twice as big as a fist. There was singing and dancing and feasting, all day long a feast of one sort or another was spread out in the streets and squares and lanes with everyone invited to each and to all.
But Justin only watched. He stood apart, exhausted and empty. For hours he wandered the city just to look at all the old places made new, just to listen to the sounds of joy. He tried to make sense of it all, and he tried to ignore it all. Nothing helped. He walked and walked, barely able to smile when a friend crashed into his arms singing and laughing. Late in the afternoon, Justin collected his tiny daughter from his parents’ house and quietly carried her up the hill to the high square and across the park to the foot of the ash tree. It was no longer silver, and he suspected it never would be again.
They’ll have to change the name, he mused.
He sat down on the green grass with hundreds of other people all sitting and eating and laughing on their picnic blankets. Justin lifted Violet so she could see the tree and its golden leaves, and he said, “I want to tell you a story about your mother. You’ll want to know all about her one day, I imagine. So I want to get the story right. But don’t worry if I get some parts of it wrong. She’ll tell you the whole story herself, one day. Just as soon as I find a way to bring her back to us. I promise.”
About the Story
Daphne and the Silver Ash borrows from many myths and legends, including those of the ancient Greeks, Egyptians, Aztecs, and Norsemen. Daphne’s world exists outside of time and history as we know it, in that magical place where legendary creatures and lost cities dwell eternally, somewhere between memories and dreams.
And yes, there are more stories to tell about this place.
Daphne’s song, The Ash Tree, is an adaptation of a traditional Welsh folk song, The Ash Grove, first translated into English by John Oxenford (1812-1877).
About the Author
Joseph Robert Lewis enjoys creating worlds in which history, mythology, and fantasy collide in unpredictable ways. He also likes writing about heroines that his daughters can respect and admire. Joe was born in Annapolis and went to the University of Maryland to study ancient novels, morality plays, and Viking poetry. He lives in Maryland with his wife and children.
Joe’s other books include the Halcyon steampunk trilogy, the Europa dark fantasy trilogy, and the Chimera mythic fantasy duology.
www.josephrobertlewis.com
Daphne and the Silver Ash: A Fairy Tale Page 10