"I can," the horse's mouth foamed and it was pink and bloody. Ethon backed up a few paces. "I can," she said again, "and I will." And she reared up, her terrible hooves like crescent slivers, like dark knives. And she plunged at Brone, striking her with all the strength left in her bony frame. Brone felt the seed crumble at her throat first and then her chest froze and splintered as if she were entirely made of brittle ice and she could not breathe. The green vines exploded around her, above her, leafing and thickening. Ethon reared up again, mad with hate and Brone knew the horse would be the last thing that she saw. But before the blow came, Brone smelled the dry cool of an early frost and she heard a shriek like a storm wind between trees. And the copper horse shattered as if it were made of frozen dust, it blew away, a shadow and then nothing. She tried to turn her head but could not. Arvakir walked slowly in front of her, and her breath clouded between them. She felt him touch her hand like a light shower of snow. "They are safe now. Are you ready?" he asked. She nodded and then closed her eyes. He leaned in and she felt his breath like the wind over frozen ponds. "A tree can live forever." he whispered and the last thing she heard was the smile in his voice. The trunk around her body thickened and closed and shot upward, far, far into the sky. Arvakir looked up for a long moment, a moveless statue, a marble Messenger. Then he heard a strange, lopsided thump and slither and the light grew younger, brighter into a dawn behind the trees. Arvakir sat beneath the great tree to wait as Ganit moved through the pines.
Chapter 43
Ganit had felt the chill of frost for the first time in many, many months and it made him nervous. Though he did not see the Ghost Horse, it was indeed Arvakir racing past to halt the madness of Ethon. Uneasy, Ganit felt an urge to find Brone. He had made a crude stump and cane from the willows near the stream some time before, but still he was slow upon his feet. Adya and Janak were playing in the grass and Ganit placed them on the little fishing raft he'd made. He pulled them over the smooth ground toward the forest. They laughed and babbled, but Ganit did not smile. He felt heavy and slow and he shouted to Brone occasionally, but received no answer. He had reached the bristling green pines when he heard the deadly shriek of Arvakir and he instantly remembered the dead city filled with snow where he had last heard it. Ganit was slick with sweat and his leg ached fiercely but he pushed on, the babies unaware and leaning on the raft watching the grass spring back behind them. At last they emerged from the edge of the forest. Ganit saw the still, white figure sitting beneath the warm, living green of a tremendous tree and he knew immediately what it meant. He began weeping before he even reached the foot of the tree. He lifted first Adya and then Janak and held them as if he thought he would break them. At last he sat with them across from Arvakir. "Was she alone?" asked Ganit.
"No," said Arvakir, "I was with her."
"Was she frightened? Did it hurt?"
"I think she was done being frightened. And it doesn't hurt anymore."
Arvakir smiled and looked up into the high green branches. Then he looked back at Ganit and placed a gentle hand on each child's head. "I told her that trees can live forever," he said. And then he stood. "My time here too, is over for now." A thin golden pod fluttered down from the great branches into the grass. Arvakir bent and picked it up between slim, pale fingers. He stood at the foot of the tree and there was a soft cracking, like ice settling on a winter lake. He smiled at Ganit. "Don't worry," he said, "You and I will meet her again. Someday." He curled his icy hand around the pod like an empty sea shell and the cracking sound sped up and overtook him. Arvakir had turned to snowy stone and Ganit and the babies were alone. Without Adya and Janak, Ganit would have been lost. He spent many, many days sleeping beneath the Green Tree but the laughs and cries of his children kept Ganit from despair. He built a great house, high, high in the branches of the tree. He watched as the spring spread from the foot of the tree out over the world, its massive roots curling even beneath Enik's bridge to shatter it into small pieces, the pine forest stretching over the hill where they had lived, shrouding the clear sweet stream where they had played. He watched the meadows and brush unroll far, far to the north and east and the beasts scattered making it harder to hunt. But the tree dropped fruit upon them and gathered birds to itself, so that Ganit never knew want. His arms grew thick with climbing, for every year he climbed higher, hoping to reach the crown, and returned to the tree house stranger and sadder each time. Still, the days were sweet with his son and his daughter, and their laughter was soothing. He told them the story of Brone and of the old world many, many times. He taught them all he knew about caring for themselves and each other and tried to teach them what he remembered of the people that lived before. But they were gone, and though Ganit spoke often of them, Adya and Janak let it pass like water above them. For they had new things to learn and know, and new gardens will not grow well upon the remains of the old. After many years, when Ganit saw his children growing older, into man and woman, he climbed the great tree farther than he had ever gone before, and he did not return. His light and warmth grew farther and farther from the world, but overspread it as Brone's green spring had. He is ever torn between searching for the top of the Green Tree and leaving his children, so every evening he climbs too far from the earth and the world darkens, but every morning he returns to check on his children and light and warmth return as he descends.
The Green Tree lives as long as this world shall. Each time the year brings the memory of Brone's death around again, she shakes herself, scattering golden seeds over the world and then she sleeps while the breath of Arvakir roams the silent hills and all the people hide themselves away. But spring and dawn always follow, so the great tree bursts at last into bright gold-green that spreads from its roots westward, as if Brone was wandering over the world again.
^
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
The Jade Seed Page 22