“Good riddance.” Fairview spits as he gaits away. “So, young lad, you’ve managed to linger here for some time and you’re just now finding out what you seek is right in front of you.”
“It’s not easy to find answers in a village led by a half-crazed old man, and where everyone responds to questions with questions. And for the record, I haven’t been lingering. I was misled into believing I only had one way out. And that way was guarded by an oversized, angry ape. Oh…and the fact nobody in this village refers to this village as Greybark is still a mystery to me.”
Fairview responds with an impish grin.
“Old Lady Windblown.” I shake my head, frustrated from the hoodwink, but with a delighted smile I can’t hide. “It’s all too obvious in hindsight. Isn’t it?”
She nods with a pensive, flat grin. “Sit. Sit. Let’s talk civilly.”
She gestures for me to plop down on the ground in front of her wooden chair. She notices my hesitance to sit on the floor as if I’m one of her youthful pupils, but disregards it and takes a seat in her chair. I sit down on the wooden floor, nonetheless, entertaining her patronizing antics. And I sit crisscross, too, with my hands locked together in my lap, simply to mock her, likely unintentional, but belittling manner.
“Greybark is not the name of our village. That is why none of its inhabitants refer to it as so. We are, and always have been, Redcliffe Village. Greybark is simply a label put on our village by outsiders. Not only is our forest plentiful of grey sentinels, but we, as a people, also integrate their grey armor into our wardrobe, hence the given name, Greybark. It’s not as baffling as you make it out to be.” She transitions into a low and elderly voice, “What else would you like to know?”
“For starters, how is Zoie still alive?”
“She’s a youthful little squirt. How isn’t she still alive?”
“You’re proving my point.”
Fairview, rocking gently in her creaky wooden chair that looks as old as she does, looks at me with a puzzled expression. “Pardon?”
“A question for a question. Everything’s a riddle in this hidden tree fortress. Even the name is deceiving, and I’m positive the wildlife is in cahoots with your damned riddles as well.”
“Ah yes, you may have it right, but what would life be if you didn’t have to ponder your next, and every, move? It would be as simple as a summer breeze.”
A coincidental gust shudders through the treetops. It feels more like an autumnal breeze than a summer breeze, however. It causes goose prickles to waft over my skin.
“Very well, then…I believe you have gained my trust, so I will shed some light on what you believe to be true and what true truly is. Your understanding of the Solstice and Nox Sciences is just as they teach it at the Academy, I would presume. Is that correct?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because the Taoiseach has complete control over the curriculum. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“No.”
Fairview rolls her eyes at me. “Of course you don’t. There is more to the talents than what the Academy leads you to believe. Much more. For starters, every inhabitant on Azure is far more capable than they would have you believe. There is much potential wasted with our talents, and the Taoiseach knows this. It is how he maintains absolute power over the people of Vedora and Parliament. Which by now, you should realize is just a front to ease the frustrations of the people. Parliament has no real power. They’re simply a means to give the Taoiseach as much knowledge as he needs, and as much power as he needs, to manipulate the world around him. Even some of the members of Parliament believe themselves to be just and for the people, but truthfully, the Taoiseach has them all on strings. He is the grand master of all the marionettes. There is no elected sovereignty, and there is no real education in the Academy. You have been fed lies your entire life.
“On the contrary, Harris is far too familiar with the far end of the spectrum, and he has purpose for how he rules. Even if the rest of us disagree.” She casually shakes her head.
She pauses. I take the opportunity to speak up. “No offense, but you sound like The Old Grumpy Goat of Greybark right now.”
“There is always some truth pinned beneath rumor. Where was I…ah yes, I was getting to the point of how Zoie is still with us. The first thing you need to be aware of is it doesn’t work on just anything. The prerequisite for life is passion, endurance, and fight.” She nearly spits on me with the energy behind that last word. “And it must happen soon after the last breath has fled the lungs. Any longer and it will be a desperate reach, nothing more.”
“Umm…Fairview? What are you talking about?”
“Resurrection, of course.”
“Resurrection?” I repeat like a halfwit. “It’s real?”
“You’re proving my point, young lad.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. You know, most of us around here are Sprhowts, but we do have a handful of other races. And—this one might come as a shocker to you as well—there are a select few among us that are Grafts.” Her eyes light up as if she’s anticipating an explosion.
“Grafts? Taboo. They’re only real in fairy stories. Who are they?”
“Fairies are real too, young lad, but not important. I will not share secrets that are not mine to share. With that said, I can give you a partial answer.”
“And?” I reply eagerly. Grafts are cursed spirits, not humans. It’s preached as such. Advocate Gunther spoke this only months ago when I was in Greenport. To know they live among us is astonishing. I could not pass on the opportunity to meet one. I wonder if my father knew of them. Maybe that’s why I was always a disappointment to him. Maybe he is one of them.
“You are sitting in front of one,” Fairview responds humbly.
My eyes widen. Though, ultimately, I’m not all that surprised.
“I know you’re a Sprhowt, so what other talent do you have?”
Fairview doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, she draws a small kukri blade from her waistline. I do find it surprising a lady of her age feels it necessary to keep a blade on her. “Are you always packing?” I ask flippantly.
“I’m prepared just as you are with your blades and your whip. Ah, that reminds me…” She strenuously twists behind her seat and withdraws a coiled vine. “To replace your losses.” I reach for it, and she retracts. “Poisonous, dear. Be careful.” A new arachniwhip to replace the one Coloss shredded.
“Thank you.”
I suppose it doesn’t hurt for an old lady to be prepared. She continues with her demonstration. With the blade in her left hand and her right palm up, she slices deep into it. I jerk back, stunned and disgusted she would be so impulsive. Fairview, however, does not show any pain or have any kind of crazed look upon her face. She sits calmly rubbing the blade across her lap to wipe away the blood then raises her lacerated palm up so I can clearly see it. Before my eyes, I watch the color of her eyes change from a pale green to a soft blue, then the wound mends itself slowly and steadily in only a few clicks. The deep cut disappears from her hand. No scar and only a bit of blood residue. Fairview is a Shaman.
“Now you know my secret,” she says apprehensively. “One of them anyways.” She winks with a sly grin.
“How do you know if you’re a Graft? Is there some way to test it? So, you know how to resurrect life? What else can you do?” I fail to take a breath between questions. This newly acquired information has my mind spinning in place without any traction to move forward. So many questions. In only a matter of moments, she has shed new light on who we are and the potential we have. We are capable of so much more than what we’re all led to believe.
“One question at a time please.” She gives me a motherly smile. One brought forth from the heart. “Yes, I do know how to resurrect, but it’s not truly resurrection. It is merely healing the body before life is completely extinguished. True resurrection is beyond anyone’s capabilities.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“For resurrecting Zoie.”
“Ah…it wasn’t me this time. That girl is always testing her limits. I knew one of these days I wouldn’t be around to help, so I taught her a few techniques. That’s what the bark chrysalis is for. That, and it makes for a formidable armor if you craft it right.”
“So, is there a way to test yourself to see if you’re a Graft?” I ask again.
“I could impale you with my blade and see if you survive.” Her somberness behind the remark is chilling, but then again, she has proven to be a little eccentric at times.
“Umm…no, thank you.”
“I see…well, you’d likely know if you were by now. Like with your Sprhowt talents, you’d have some unintentional happenings with other talents if you were capable of it.”
“So, is this the knowledge of the Old Races Graytu spoke of?”
“Hardly. This is merely collusion at its best, keeping the strong and powerful on top—where they feel entitled to be—by limiting the knowledge shared amongst the masses. Unfortunately, it works. And gets the rest of us to bow to our knees. But the knowledge of the Old Races is not why you are here. What is it you’re in search of? What is it that’s so important to travel hundreds of leagues and brave a guardian ape for?”
I stare at her blankly for a moment. She rocks slowly in her chair, waiting patiently for a response. I ponder her question. I thought I came here for her wisdom, the knowledge of the Old Races as Graytu put it, but I really don’t know if that will help me or not. And I thought I wanted to overthrow the Taoiseach, but there is no passion there. I want to put an end to a world of tyrants, but I don’t know if assassinating the Taoiseach is the path that needs to be taken. So much knowledge in front of me, and I don’t know what questions to ask of her. “How can I overthrow the Taoiseach?” I ask the question, regardless, and feel rather juvenile afterward.
Fairview’s eyes narrow. “What makes you worthy of such knowledge? And what makes you believe I have that knowledge to share? That isn’t the question you want to ask. Is it?”
“There you go again, responding with more questions.” I throw my hands in the air. “You’re the oldest human on this moon, are you not? And you’re bound to have knowledge, or at least a hint at how it can be done. Even Graytu admits you have wisdom of the Old Races.” I stretch my legs out then lean back on my hands, getting more comfortable. It may take more time than desired to get answers out of her.
“First, you have no proof I’m the oldest person alive. As far as you know, I’ve only been around for twenty-nine seasons.”
She shoots me a wink and a flirtatious grin. I had thought we got past that, but apparently not.
“Second, pardon my damned riddles, but I must ask another important question.”
I roll my eyes at her but nod in agreement.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes,” I reply assertively, but I shake my head. “It’s absolutely what I want.”
Her head cocks to the side with half her face scrunched.
“What? It’s what I want. I’m sure of it.” It’s why I came here. To figure out a way to gain my freedom and the freedom of my family for good. No more running. I must take a stance and fight.
“Even without understanding the consequences that could come of it?”
“Yes.”
Fairview interlaces her fingers and places them on her lap. Her expression morose. “You believe this will create balance, but your destructive intentions are only adding to a power already tipping the scale. Man’s opinion fluctuates regularly. That opinion morphs into change, good or bad, from a man’s determination or pigheadedness. Change is inevitable, you see, and sparks from strong emotions. But it is a man’s will that sees it through. Goose…your opinion on this matter is set from a past event. Look deeper. I implore you. Are you determined or pigheaded?” She doesn’t taunt. Her words are sincere. “Be sure you have the will to follow your emotions, or the result will not be what you desire. With that, I will ask once again, do you want to overthrow the Taoiseach?”
“I…” I want to rid this world of tyranny. But if I do, there will be others to fill that gap. It’s not good enough. “I…” I stroke my fingers through my hair and look out across the treetop village. Graytu frolics about the organic catwalks, Zoie by his side taking jabs at him. But he dodges her effortlessly. A sneer covers her face. The sight puts a smile on my face. Then my mind drifts to Jaymes and Stone, and my smile fades. I’m here enjoying the company of my new family. I abandoned them when they needed me most. I was so naïve. Just as my father expressed to me. The Redcliffe villagers gave me protection from what they chased head-on. I look back to Fairview. She waits patiently, studying me. “I…” I want to give that protection back. “I want to protect what is great in this world,” I say to her. “I want to become a guardian of Azure, just as Coloss is. Can you grant me that knowledge, Fairview Windblown?”
Her flat, sullen lips curl upward into a radiating smile. “Indeed, I can.”
“What’s that?” I hear a scuffle in the branches above. “Did you hear that? Voices.” I look up but see nothing. Am I hearing the squirrels? I don’t recognize the dialect to be the same as Chippie’s. But maybe each squirrel has a different voice.
“You startle so easily, Goose of House Greyson. Your father would be ashamed if he knew you were fretting over a few squirrels scurrying about the trees.” She looks to the canopy. “What you hear are your Instincts at work. Or quite possibly your Aura too. The world is a new place for you now.”
“What do you know of my father?” I ask dubiously, ignoring everything else she said.
“Oh, I know much about your father.”
“Like what? How?”
“I am Old Lady Windblown. I know all there is to know of this world.”
“Mock me all you want. I will force it out of you if I must.”
“Such a violent temperament from a pupil who has clearly worked past such trivial actions. There is no need for force. Maybe a bit of persuading, however.” Fairview winks at me, followed by one of her playful grins.
I don’t understand her intentions. She must know nothing will ever come of the two of us. She must be at least five times my age. Gross. Not understanding the humor behind her remarks, I look upon her sternly and silently.
“Ah, very well then. You’re not adventurous enough for me anyhow. Yes, I knew your father.”
“Knew?” I bristle at the poor choice of grammar.
“Yes, knew.”
“What do you mean?” Fairview’s green eyes grow solemn. The playful and inappropriate atmosphere abruptly shifts to a darker tone.
“You don’t know, then.”
“Know what?”
“Your father…”
“Is he ill? Does he need help?”
“He’s dead, Goose.”
“Wh…” My posture stiffens. My mouth agape. “How?” I lean forward and rise to my feet. “What do you mean, dead?”
“There is only one meaning for the word,” she replies flatly.
“This isn’t true. You don’t know what you speak of. He’s the general of the Crimson Guard. A general, especially one of his magnitude, doesn’t just…die.” I pace in front of her, unable to stand still. “There are people who prevent those kinds of things. People like you. He isn’t dead. He can’t be.”
A noise from inside of Fairview’s hollow distracts me. I halt my pacing and spy the shadows. A throat clears, but the source is hidden.
“Sorry to interrupt the private moment here.” A sinister voice spills from her hollow. “I understand the magnitude when you first learn of your father’s demise. It’s not a moment you’ll treasure, I can assure you. But let me spare you.”
A man steps through the portal of the hollow into view. He’s a tall man with ghostly skin. He has a hooded cross-sash with the hood up, but I can see he is bald. Red, ornate tattoos on his forehead and around his ey
es act as a permanent mask. Aside from his cold appearance, the more intriguing feature is his eyes. They’re almost pure white. Only the retina is visible with a thin silver corona surrounding it.
“I don’t have a lot of time. Not today, anyhow. And fortunately for you, you don’t either, so you won’t have to experience the sorrow, the anger, the regret, and so on from the news of your father’s death. I will spare you from all of that.”
“Your Aura is strong, Goose,” Fairview interrupts casually. “Your Instincts can use some fine-tuning, however.”
My Aura?
“It’s been a long time,” she says to the intruder. She doesn’t bother turning around to see whom she speaks to. She obviously knows this man by the sound of his malicious voice.
“So it has.”
“You were exiled. What business do you have in this land?” Fairview asks.
“I didn’t think your red cliff was red enough.”
“Goose, run!”
I fail to follow her command. The lack of explanation of what’s unraveling before me gives me no indication of urgency. The tall, dark man moves directly behind Fairview and produces a blade from inside his cloak.
“Goodbye, Fairview,” he says before sliding the blade methodically across her throat from ear to ear.
Fairview grabs at the loose skin at her neck and pulls it tight. A meager attempt to stop the bleeding, but better than nothing, I suppose. However, there isn’t much blood pouring out from between her fingers as I would expect. She lets go of the laceration, and it’s gone. “This isn’t the end.” She sputters out a few words accompanied by some blood.
“Oh, Fairview, you’re always holding onto something that isn’t there. Faith is not real. It is just a dream the weak grasp on to because their lives are meaningless without it. This is the end. The end of your regime with Harris and the others who claim to be The First Four. Your time is up. And it is about four hundred seasons overdue. Or has it been longer than that?”
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 63