She turned and raced to the edge of the terrace, jumped off to land in the cushion of leaves and moss, then popped right back up and kept running.
Maja cried out behind her, but Kirra was not worried about pursuit. Even on sore and tired legs she knew she was faster.
And she would need every last bit of that speed. He left an hour ago! she thought. If Taro had gone directly to the village, he could nearly be there by now.
The activities on each terrace passed by in a blur, friends and extended family members calling out unanswered greetings. Kirra raced on, the pain in her legs forgotten, everything forgotten except the need to get Outside and find Paja before something terrible happened to him.
She finally arrived at the closest exit tunnel. Her friend, the Watcher’s Helper Tatuu, sat with her back against the stone wall, eating a bowl of vegetables.
“Tatuu!” Kirra was panting. “You must help me. Where is your Watcher? In the tunnel?”
Tatuu nodded but regarded her friend warily. “Kirra, why are you so—?”
“I need you to distract him. Get him away from the exit for just a minute so I can sneak Outside.”
Tatuu’s eyes went wide. “But your father already left, and he said—”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going alone. Please. Help me. Now.” Kirra hopped from one foot to the other impatiently.
“Alone?” Tatuu glanced uneasily at the entrance to the tunnel. “But, Kirra, you know I can’t. I could lose my position as—”
Kirra turned and dashed away from her friend. There was no time to argue. With each passing second Paja could be in more danger. Rules no longer applied.
She stormed into the tunnel and barreled through its twists and turns. At the end of the passageway, the official Watcher knelt at the exit with his back to her, eyes trained on the surrounding landscape just beyond the volcano’s wall.
Kirra knocked into him as she ran past. “Hey!” he yelled. Dashing into the rapidly dimming light of dusk on the Outside, she could hear footsteps pounding the earth behind her, but she wasn’t worried about that, either. For one thing, she had never been faster. She doubted any grown-up could catch her under normal circumstances, and panic was giving her supernatural speed and energy. And for another thing, there seemed to be an invisible barrier around Zedu for anyone who was not a traveling Storyteller. The Watcher would soon grow very uncomfortable Outside, and he would go back and report her rather than follow her into the unknown.
Who cares? Kirra thought. Let him report me. The only thing that matters is getting Paja home safely.
KIRRA STUMBLED DOWN the rough volcano wall, falling and skinning her knee. But she popped right back up again. She ran through the searing pain of a stitch in her side, ignored the sharp stones she stepped on and her parched throat that cried out for water. Soon it was so dark she could hardly see where she was placing her next footstep. Still, she ran.
Nearing the bottom of the wall, she encountered a great rocky ridge and hurriedly picked her way along its length. On the other side would be the plains, and then it would be a dead sprint all the way to Nafaluu. She would somehow—
“Paja?!”
Was this a vision created out of pure desperation? Taro, dashing around the side of the ridge in disheveled robes?
She stood frozen to the spot, squinting through the murky twilight as the moon rose to replace the sun. The vision ran right up to her, dropped to one knee, and grabbed her fiercely by the shoulders. This was all happening so quickly she couldn’t tell what was real. The rough way his fingers dug into her flesh told her this was no hallucination, but she simply couldn’t believe the expression on her father’s face, his eyes so wild it seemed as if they were staring right through her.
“Kirra! What are you doing out here?”
“I…I didn’t…”
“There’s no time!” He cupped her face with both of his hands. “They are nearly here. I don’t know how, but they found out about Zedu. They know where we live!”
The inside of Kirra’s belly went cold.
“Listen to me.” He glanced frantically over his shoulder, then back at Kirra. “You need to hide, and when it is safe, you must go to Lukweii. Tell the leader of their tribe who you are and what you have seen. Ask them to shelter you until it is safe to return.” Another desperate look behind them. “If it is ever safe to return.”
“Paja, I don’t want—”
Taro pulled her close, planted a rough kiss on her cheek, then embraced her, squeezing so hard that it hurt. “I love you, Kirra,” he whispered fiercely into her ear. “Never forget it.”
A great shout rose from the other side of the ridge, answered by more voices roaring in unison. Taro pulled back, listening, his eyes going even wider. Kirra felt like she was stuck in a terrible dream. None of this seemed like it could be happening, not really, especially not this fast.
“Listen carefully, Kirra.” Taro motioned to a small, protected area underneath a rocky overhang. He took her by the shoulders and pushed her down, first on her knees and then over onto her side. Limp from exhaustion and terror, she curled up into a ball like a scared armadillo. He shoved her underneath the outcropping of stone.
“But, Paja, I—”
“Please, Kirra.” His voice was thick. Peeking out, she saw something she had never seen before: Her father was crying. Somehow that single detail cut through everything else that was happening, the tears streaming down Taro’s face making all of this horribly real. He uprooted some brush and pressed it under the lip of rock, covering her. “I must go. I have to try and warn the others. Don’t move until it’s safe. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more to protect you, my sweet one.”
Then he turned and raced away, climbing the side of the volcano in long, loping strides.
Kirra whimpered and reached out for him, but she froze when she heard the strange men shouting again, closer this time. She pulled her arm back under the ledge. In another moment, a group of tall warriors from the camp ran around the ridge, lighting up the night sky with flaming torches. The group blasted right past her, sending a cloud of dust into her hiding place. She squeezed her eyes shut, tasting dirt that threatened to choke her. By the gods, they covered so much ground in those great, bounding strides. How would her father ever have a chance to warn the people of Zedu?
Some long minutes later, when the entire procession had passed and she was able to peel open her eyes, she watched through the leaves in horror as her nightmare came true—her father disappeared into the volcano, but with the entire group of Red Streak’s men right on his heels. They all had those terrible shiny blades in their hands, pointed at the sky, the light from their flames winking off the cruel, sharpened tips. A few of them dashed in the tunnel; the others waited outside the entrance. Just a few minutes later, the first warriors returned and waved in the rest. The assembly—it looked like an even bigger group than she had seen in the woods, if that were possible—stormed into the same entrance she and Tiko had snuck back through last night, squeezing those long gray bodies and all of that armor and weaponry through the crack in Zedu’s volcano wall.
All the air left Kirra in a dizzying rush.
Had the Takers followed her and Tiko as they raced across the plains toward home? Oh, dear gods, that was the only possible explanation.
Kirra went light-headed as she couldn’t suck in a desperately needed breath. Zedu had lived peacefully behind the protective walls of the volcano for generation upon generation, and after Kirra’s first unauthorized trip Outside, they were overrun within the space of a single day.
Zedu was being seen by Outsider eyes for the first time at this very moment. Unthinkable, yet it was happening, and she was to blame.
The interior of the volcano was being met with those cruel weapons and open flames, while she was out here. No one was safe…Paja…Maja…little Tiko…all her friends…and it was entirely her fault.
That’s when Kirra’s mind gave out and the world went dark.
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When she came to, it was many hours later. The sun was directly overhead, the air hot and still.
She was so stiff she could barely move. Her arms and legs were scratched up from the brush, she itched all over, and grit coated her tongue. As she took inventory of her body, her mind slowly recalled where she was…and why. Overwhelmed with fear, dread, and guilt, she was unable to muster the energy to fix any of her minor discomforts. A feeling settled into her chest so strongly she knew it would always be there from this point on: She deserved to be miserable. Now and forever.
She lay there, listless, until the sky darkened again, the moon rose slowly over the volcano, and the air became so cold she couldn’t stop shivering.
Occasionally warriors marched back and forth past her hiding spot. Kirra squeezed her eyes shut. She clapped her hands over her ears, but still the relentless sound of their pounding boots came.
When the sun rose again, Kirra’s mouth was so dry that it hurt to move her tongue. An idea drifted in, slipped under the ledge of rock, and wormed its way into her head: If she didn’t get out soon and get some water, she was going to die here.
Kirra closed her eyes tightly again and didn’t move, giving herself over to fate.
The sound of rain falling on the rocks outside woke Kirra. In all the confusion of the last few days, she had missed the telltale signs of an incoming monsoon, but it was here now. The water fell in great sheets.
Acting more on deep-seated instinct than a conscious will to survive, Kirra stuck her hand out from under the ledge, let the rain wet her fingers, and pulled them back to suck on them.
Her throat was so dry and constricted that at first it felt like she was swallowing sand. But as she slowly collected more fresh rainwater, her mouth loosened up and she gained a bit of strength.
She eventually crawled into the open, leaving herself completely exposed. But what of it? True, one of the warriors could spot her, but that would only speed up what needed to happen. Kirra should not be allowed to live.
She stood there in the downpour, tears mixing with the rain streaming down her face, and looked up at the hidden entrance to the volcano. But there was no one about. Were all the Takers inside now, using everything the Zeduans had built to keep themselves dry and warm and fed?
How could she have lost her entire world so quickly?
And how could it…oh, gods, how could it possibly have been all her fault? She’d only wanted to help. She’d wanted to serve Zedu and help her father and use stories to teach and protect her people. And now Zedu and Paja and all of his stories…
She felt dizzy and sick to her stomach, but she had to know what was happening inside. What she had caused to happen.
Kirra knew better than to try going through the nearby entrance. The warriors would have manned it, first thing.
So instead she summoned a reserve of energy she didn’t think she possessed and willed her shaking legs to climb to the very top of the volcano.
When she arrived, Kirra lifted her gaze from the ground to find something straight out of one of her father’s stories—smoke. Not the gentle, continuous puffs the Calla twins produced to create the illusion that the volcano was about to erupt. Instead, big, dark, ominous clouds of choking smoke were billowing from the top of the crater.
When she made it to the rim she collapsed, her cheek pressed against the dirt. She grabbed the lip of the crater and pulled herself forward on her belly, trying to find a break in the smoke where she could breathe.
As her eyes adjusted and she was able to peer down into the only place she had ever called home, she was thankful for all that smoke.
The hazy picture that emerged was horrifying enough. Nearly every structure in the community was a heap of charred wood and ash. There was no sign of life inside.
The fire demons had turned out to be real, after all.
She pushed herself away, choking and gagging, staggered away from the crater, and stumbled back down the volcano wall.
Her mind tried to find explanations for what she had seen. It didn’t work.
As she half walked, half slid down the rain-slicked mountain, she tried to turn her mind off entirely, but that didn’t work, either. Paja had told her to go back to Lukweii for sanctuary. She didn’t deserve that. Besides, one of the Takers would probably follow her, and she would lead him right to a fresh village for the slaughter. That was her legacy now. Instead of spreading stories, she spread destruction.
She would not go to Lukweii, or Nafaluu, or any place where there were people trying to enjoy their lives.
Her exhausted and cramped legs plodded on until she had walked straight off the volcano. She waded through tall grass and thorny bushes and puddles and under trees until finally she was standing on the banks of the great river. The ledge she was on overlooked the rushing water some ten or so feet below. But this downpour was working quickly. She could see the swollen river rising to meet her. The deluge was creating tangles of whitewater, swift eddies, and boiling whirlpools. If someone were to fall in, they would have no chance. Their body would be spun around and dragged under and tossed about until the life was sucked out of them. They would be gone.
And all their terrible memories would be gone with them.
Perhaps Kirra’s feet dislodged some rocks, or maybe the strong rain had made the ledge unstable. In any case, the ground slid underneath her.
Kirra fell into the river and was swept away from everything she had ever known.
SHE WAS FREEZING. Chill had seeped into her body so completely that it felt like an essential part of her.
She went where the current took her. There was no other choice. She was spun this way and that, sucked under the water only to be spit out above the surface several suffocating moments later. Her body bounced off logs and rocks as if it were a piece of trash that had been dumped into the current. If she weren’t numb with cold, she would have felt the pain much more keenly.
Darkness started creeping in around the edges of her vision. Her physical numbness was so complete it no longer fazed her when freezing whitewater splashed over her face. Her emotional numbness was so complete she didn’t care if she ever made it out of here.
Time became meaningless. She had always been here. The darkness increased, limiting her sight. The numbness continued to seep in until she couldn’t feel anything anymore.
Until the hand. Warm and strong, it slipped into hers. It pulled her, gave her direction. Reminded her there were other things besides cold and wet and pain. That hand became her entire world.
Then there was total blackness.
When she regained the tiniest part of herself, she found the strength to open her eyes. She saw a boy’s face, unfamiliar but kind.
He looked down at her. His mouth moved. Several moments later the voice came to her, muffled and distorted, as if she were still underwater. Maybe she was.
“You’re going to be okay.”
No, she wanted to tell him, I’m not. But she couldn’t say anything. Her lips didn’t feel right.
She wasn’t touching the ground. At first, she thought she might be floating, but then she understood that this boy was carrying her. As a canopy of branches rushed by overhead, she realized she was in a forest.
“What’s your name?” the boy asked her.
Kirra, she answered in her head. Was that still her name? Did you actually have a name if everyone who knew it was gone?
“You’re going to be okay,” he said again.
Then they were standing at the base of a tree, and the boy was craning his neck to look up, yelling for help.
And then it was black again.
ANY MEMBER OF THE Tree Folk could leave the community and wander about the surrounding lands whenever they wanted. But fourteen-year-old Kirra rarely did.
Instead, it was her preference to stay safely inside the hut, doing daily chores such as preparing food or mending clothes. She had to admit, though, that safe was a relative term when the hut was located more tha
n two hundred dizzying feet above the ground.
Even after four years of living in it, Kirra still marveled at the structure. The dwelling had been built in a circle around the top of a great tree. The trunk rose through a hole in the middle of the floor in the main living room and disappeared through the roof. Up this high, the trunk was much thinner than it was at the forest floor far below, but it was still thick enough to provide sturdy support for the hut and the four people who lived there.
Underneath the wooden platform that served as the floor hung a series of sleeping hammocks, accessible through trapdoors. Branches had been cleared to allow room for the living space, where the family kept their possessions and shared meals.
A stone fire pit for cooking had been constructed well away from the tree trunk, underneath a hole in the roof that let smoke escape. Many layers of smooth river rocks formed the base. You had to be extremely careful with fire when you lived at the top of a towering tree. One stray spark could—
Kirra shook her head to make that thought go away. Fire was definitely one of her Memory Traps.
A Memory Trap could suck her in like a whirlpool and force her to spin backward. Back to Before. And then her mind, dragging her heart along with it, would end up in a very bad place.
It had happened often when she first arrived. Almost everything had been a Memory Trap then, and whenever she’d allowed herself to dwell on certain things, she would inevitably spiral downward. Then she’d spend several days in a row not talking and hardly moving. She knew it had frightened and disturbed the people who had taken her in. And she didn’t want that. They’d been very kind to her.
Kirra had become quite adept at avoiding these mental pitfalls. At first, it had felt like physically pushing the bad thoughts away against their will, cramming them into too-small boxes and shoving them back into the deep storage areas of her brain. But now she could do it almost automatically, avoid a looming Memory Trap as if she were merely sidestepping an ankle-twisting hole while walking in the woods.
If We Were Giants Page 7