Stone Of Matter

by B L Barkey

  As they drew closer, the wood chips littering the ground grew thicker. Remaining stumps of the victimized trees were in irreparable condition. The smell of ash lingered in the air.

  Ammon squeezed between two others, giving him view of the crowd’s center. Amidst the flora carnage, it was difficult to see what in particular was causing the intrigue. His eyes adjusted to the scene, and slowly, the object of fascination was drawn in his mind forever.

  A figure was rooted in the center of the circle. He took what he thought were a few steps forward, yet as he looked around, he was suddenly aware of how alone he had become. The rest of the crowd had taken steps backward, creeping away from the figure as if not to awaken it. All the while, Ammon was pulled in closer. Without knowing, he circled the figure in his mind, as well as with steps. In seconds, he was aware of only two beings: himself and the center.

  At the center was the last standing tree within a hundred-foot radius. Charred black, the tree had received great injury, just like the rest of the trees. However, it appeared to stand just as tall and intact as ever. In fact, it appeared to be standing proud as an emblem to what had just occurred. How can such emotion be felt through a dead tree? Ammon thought. Or even through a live one, for that matter. Is the tree actually dead? It obviously held unique properties, having remained in mostly one piece.

  Ammon found himself standing right next to the black tree. He reached out to touch it. He knew not why he desired to touch it, but he did. Neither did he know where this desire had originated. It came from elsewhere, he thought, surprising himself. Outside.

  He placed his palm on the trunk gingerly, as if expecting a shock. He had expected a rough, chalky texture. What he felt was like a smooth, warm silk. Although the tree had the appearance of a burnt plant, it felt quite alive indeed. Almost pulsing. Held vibrant and upright by something else far away.

  Its black branches were firm as well, holding his weight with ease. It had not been damaged. It had been transformed.

  He finally pulled his shirt neck over his nose, the burning stench having grown unbearable. This tree was pitch black. Even with the increased shine of the unhindered moon, this tree acted as a rip in reality that was void of all light. It was a tear in fabric, pulled taut by sky and ground in an attempt to stitch reality back together.

  It towered over him, reaching towards the sky with agony and pride. No color or life hung from its branches. It was taller than most Cephasonian trees.

  He jerked back his hand as if being electrocuted. After a few breaths, he realized what had happened.

  His joy and attention had been seeping into the dark tree. He knew this for certain as the further he moved from the tree, the faster hope trickled back into his mind. He turned and walked in the direction of the ocean, gradually speeding up to a light jog. A few splinters from the wreckage stuck into his feet, though none held on for more than a few steps.

  He made his way back to where Bastion, Mikael, and Krys should have been, though it was difficult to recognize them in the dark. Everyone had once again gathered in a circle, this one much tighter and still. He was growing tired of this, playing catch-up with the crowd. His patience was just about up with the events of the night. Too many unknowns had his head spinning like a wheel. Spinning…

  …like a vortex.

  The thought purged through him, making him dizzy. Then, he was angry. He had received enough foreign thoughts for a day. What is in my mind…

  All conversation fell to cautious whispers. He walked through the wall of people once more, creating a gap for which to push through. As he did so, he noticed that all hoods were still down, despite the cold. Such darkness has us all careful, he thought.

  That’s when he saw Jonah. His expression was one of surreal discomfort. Tears streamed down his ashen face, tracing the shock in his eyes. He lied on his back, his head in Krystal’s lap. Mikael was holding his leg carefully, avoiding the large splinter protruding from Jonah’s thigh.

  Ammon knelt next to them, then realized what the splinter really was. It was a broken thigh bone poking through flesh. Multiple smaller splinters littered the back of his leg. He looked for a tourniquet on Jonah’s leg, yet found none. Jonah whipped his head back and forth, equal parts panic and whiteness flooding his eyes. He moaned with shock, yet was unable to speak. He was looking for peace where there was none to be found. The closest things to it were Krystal’s soft hushing and gentle caresses on his cheek.

  Then Ammon noticed something else. There was blood on Jonah’s clothes, though just a splash of it. Such a wound should have produced pools and pools of blood. Yet there were only speckles of it. Why? Clonem? Ammon thought. Jonah would have access to the Seventh Floor medical supplies as a Levitian-in-training, though it would be immoral to do so.

  “Chalice brought it,” Bastion said, seeing the confusion in Ammon’s eyes. “Clonem. Two cloves of it. Turns out you can just rub it on the wound, as well as ingesting it.”

  Before Ammon could respond, an emanating light caught his attention. Panic struck him as he thought of the glowing storm beasts. He stood still, afraid of seeing yet another unknown. His curiosity then overcame his caution, and he slowly turned his head towards the new light.

  It was another tree. A glass tree, standing half as tall as its dark brother. Within its trunk and branches was a bluish light pulsing gently through its body. The static pulsed up the trunk to the tips of each branch. A low vibration rang out, keeping in sync with the rhythm of the light.

  With it came long forgotten peace. Each pulse reached further inside them. Ammon forgot everything he had just seen. This tree demanded complete attention, though in a way that was peaceful and warm. All eyes rested upon its soothing branches. The glass was impure, though it remained clear in many locations. The light within it slowed until it stopped and faded into darkness. The glass was pure, appearing clear all throughout.

  It was a symbol, living right before their eyes. A symbol from the light. A symbol which spoke to their very cores, saying, “You are safe.” It gave them palpable hope. Then came the warning. “You are safe. For now.”

  Right then, Ammon remembered what the voice had said earlier. The dark voice, perhaps from the eagle no one else had seen. The voice which had invaded his mind to say, ‘We have found you, children of stone’. He realized then, with sudden despair, that he now had more questions than ever before.

  Chapter XXVIII

  The Gathering

  Bastion had seen something in the storm. He had lied to his best friend Ammon about it, yet the truth was he too had seen glowing bodies in the sky. He sat with his friends at the Delkai home. Flames from the fireplace flickered, flashing memories before his eyes. He saw the flames on the beach. He heard the storm beasts. He felt the heaviness of the night upon him once more.

  It had been one heck of a night for him. He had stuck with Jonah after finding him injured, cleaning his leg wound and wrapping it with the cleanest cloth they could find. He had left the break alone, wrapping around the protruding bone. He had been the only person on the beach with proper medical training. Or at least, he had been the only one conscious and composed enough to help.

  They had calmed Jonah down long enough to bring him out of shock, while a few other hoodless boys found the clean rags, before creating a tote from branches and leaves, and padding it with spare clothing.

  That’s when Chalice had appeared, in what may have been the greatest surprise of the night. Without curse or insult, he had handed Bastion two leaves of Clonem. “Feed him these,” he had said. Bastion had done so immediately, knowing the leaves to be a natural blood coagulant. When he had turned back, perhaps to hug or punch Chalice, the boy was gone.

  They had then placed the sleeping Jonah gently on the tote and carried him to the Leviticum’s seventh floor. Two other boys had already sprinted towards the Leviticum for help after the lightning had ceased.

  The runners had been unaware of Jonah’s injuries, so it had been unclear what kin
d of help they would bring. Without Jonah, it would have taken about forty-five minutes of steady walking to reach the Leviticum. With Jonah, it would have taken them at least triple the time. Thankfully, about an hour into the trip, two Levitians had shown up with medical care and a motorized vehicle to escort Jonah themselves. From there, Krystal and Bastion had lumbered back towards High Forest, before running into Master Lyon and two other Levitians. Master Lyon had asked them several questions about the storm, before sweeping towards the Bay with impressive speed.

  Mikael had stayed back with Ammon. While Bastion had first dressed Jonah’s wounds, Ammon had asked a few others if they had seen the dark eagle. Each had shaken their heads, whether hooded or not. Those without hoods tended to be more perceptive, and not just because they had better peripherals. Still, no one had physically seen the beasts Ammon spoke of. Except for Bastion, of course. But he had been lacking the energy to accept it as reality, let alone discuss it with someone else. That would only make it real, he had thought.

  To Bastion’s relief, Ammon had quickly changed the subject, instead asking about the two trees. The black and glass trees had been another enigma. The difference was, everyone else had seen them as well. Did anyone see them appear? Ammon had asked. Two girls had seen the lightning strike the trees as Ammon had ran across the sand, which was when the black tree seemed to appear as the lone survivor. Another boy and girl had seen the lightning strike the sand itself, creating the glass tree with a flash. Apparently, the light within it had been constant, before pulsing and fading away.

  While the black tree was strange in his mind, the light tree was even more surreal. Alone, the trees were an intriguing mystery. But the glowing creatures in the storm? The dark eagle ripping at the bright green glow, of which seemed to transform into a titan of rocks? It was all too much. The trees and storm had been too much. Either alone would be too much.

  Bastion was worried for his friend. That was enough to leave him drained. From there, there was all the mystery of the storm. He had heard the screeches, seen the glows. He had thought the thunder quite different, unlike anything he had heard before. He focused his thoughts on the trees, blocking out the other mysteries of the night.

  He had heard that when sand touches lightning, there is a small chance it will create glass fixtures. The blast launches thousands of sand particles upwards, then superheats and fuses them together. The results were more often in sporadic arcs, though none looked like the tree he had seen. The light tree had been crystal clear in most of its body, with only some sand fused within. And then the diminishing light that had pulsed within. It reminded him of how blood would pump through human or animal bodies, spreading oxygen and life. This tree had felt alive. If so, then had it also died before them?

  The dark tree was mystery of its own, almost as if from another world. Even looking at it from afar, it seemed to drain the light out of his eyes and out of its immediate surroundings. He could almost feel it tugging on his own heart. That said, before they had taken off with Jonah, the black tree had disintegrated into black powder, leaving few remnants behind. None but the younglings had seen the dark tree.

  So here he was now, in the midst of a life-shattering event, unsure of what would come next. As they walked back with the others, Bastion grabbed Krystal’s hand and slowed their pace, falling behind. He could tell she was upset, frozen stiff within her own eyes. He stopped and turned to look at her. They stepped just off the enlightened path as he looked into her eyes, thawing them with his own understanding. Finally, she looked back at him, struggling to keep her composure. Then the corners of her mouth dropped, her wide eyes closed, and her arms flung around Bastion. She sobbed into his neck as he wrapped his arms around her too. He picked her up gently and took a few more steps away from the lanterns. More people would be catching up to them soon.

  “What’s happened, Bastion?” Her question and tone drove icy spikes into his heart. “Our poor island. Such power. Poor Jonah! His leg is shattered! He’ll be lucky to ever walk again,” she cried, tears pouring over her face and into his shirt.

  Bastion didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say it would all be alright, but he also did not want to lie to one of his best friends. And she was so beautiful. It hurt him that she was in pain, but he also felt like the luckiest guy in the world to be her shoulder to cry on. Bitter. Sweet. But she couldn’t know that. Otherwise things would get weird. He gently hushed her sobs, pulling her in tight with one arm, brushing her hair with the other. The tension in her body gradually dissipated, and after a while longer, she slipped out of his arms and grabbed his hands.

  “Thanks Bastion,” she said with her rare, warm smile. The lantern lights in her eyes thawed his heart, making it skip. He felt silly. He turned towards High Forest and they continued walking.

  By the time they got to Ammon and Mikael’s house, their parents had already left for the meeting. Ammon and Bastion were on the couch, still covered with sand and sorrow. The reality of what had just happened trickled down his spine like melting winter waters.

  “Master Lyon told us to send the parents to the Garden Underground,” Mikael said to them as they walked in. His tone is flat, Bastion thought. His mind is years away.

  “Yeah, he told us the same thing as he passed,” said Bastion, removing his shoes before joining Krys on the third couch.

  And there they sat. Loud without saying a word. Quiet in all but their minds. The fireplace was lit. Two extra cups of hot cocoa sat resting on the center table. It was exactly the right temperature, burning his tongue only slightly, while restoring warmth to his limbs.

  “So what happens now?” Krystal asked, cradling her warm drink in her hands.

  They sat in silence. Each was so lost in their own thoughts, it were as if none of them were really in the room. All gone. All floating but me. Each had the same, lonely thought.

  Bastion welcomed the warmth from his drink and the fireplace. It made their little room a safe place. Safe from the threats of the world. Safe from the unknowns. Tomorrow would be the Day of Reflection. Sevensday. No doubt they would discuss the storm then. Sevensday was a day to remember, to find meaning. Even so, it seemed obvious to Bastion that the parents and Levitians would try to dilute the seriousness of the event. Honesty was often the best choice, as displayed by the actions of the parents. However, such traumatic and confusing events would be kept quiet, at least until better understood. Such tactics kept the peace.

  Unless they know exactly what it was… Bastion himself had no idea what to make of it all. He was already questioning whether he had really seen the glowing beasts, or the two opposing trees. His heart was beating irregularly fast, his breathing heavy. Krystal gave him a look, but he grinned before she could say anything. He spoke aloud then, cutting the thick silence separating his friends.

  “None of us know what happened tonight. A rare storm came out of nowhere. Our friend is in the hospital recovering from serious injuries. We all heard some disturbing sounds, most of which were thunder. And Ammon saw something else on the mountain top. Something that he believes caused the storm.”

  He paused, making sure they were all listening. Mikael was looking at him calmly. Ammon stared into the fire. Krystal seemed to be ignoring them all. She was unconvinced of Ammon’s sightings, and had refused to acknowledge the trees as anything but ordinary. She liked routine. Patterns. Reason. She was not one for imagination. Even so, Bastion knew she was listening.

  “What if the elders all know what happened here tonight?”

  He let the question hang in the air. Ammon and Krystal looked surprised, but Mikael smirked solemnly, looking away. Good, Bastion thought. I’m not alone.

  “What if that is exactly why they all met tonight, without the rest of us? I mean, the Day of Reflection is tomorrow. We always discuss the events of the past week, bad and good. Why didn’t they wait until tomorrow to discuss the events? What if they are doing more right now than just discussing the details, but also the cause?”
As he finished these last words, the front door of the house rushed open. Father’s voice echoed down the hallway.

  “…But is it time already? I never thought we would live to see it happen in our time. Never thought the generation of our boys would be the ones…”

  “Erick. Later,” Mother said, hushing his voice and opening the closet door to hang the jackets. It was quiet then, as if the parents didn’t know where to go next. They don’t know we’re in here, Bastion thought.

  “Boys?” Father called out, walking into the kitchen.

  “In here,” Krys answered, clearing her throat.

  Father walked in briskly, holding his breath. “Hey, hey. You guys haven’t gone far. We…”

  “Father, what was discussed at the meeting?” asked Ammon. His furrowed eyebrows showed that he was in no mood for small talk. Bastion gave Ammon a quick glance. I’m the brash one, the look said.