Shadow Tree

by Jake Halpern

  Resuza nodded and began to climb. She went faster now, and Hill did the same. In no time at all, they were at the intersection of the pillar and the ship’s hull. Outlined in the hull they saw a rectangular door. It had no knobs or levers and no obvious way to enter.

  Resuza looked at Hill. “What should I do?” she asked.

  Hill shrugged his shoulders. “Push?”

  Resuza tentatively pushed on the door. Although the wood had warped and made the door tight, it soon opened. Resuza listened, hoping to hear her sister’s voice, but she heard only the wind.

  “Naomi?” she whispered loudly.

  There was no answer.

  “It could be a trap,” she said.

  “I know,” replied Hill. They both stared into the dark opening, trying to find any reassuring sign at all.

  Resuza sighed.

  “Well, we can’t wait here forever,” she announced. “Let’s go.” With that, Resuza and then Hill climbed into the pitch-black hull of the ship.

  Chapter 22: Kolo

  Inside the uppermost floor of the obelisk there was an observatory, equipped with shiny brass telescopes, giant wall-maps, old dog-eared atlases, several desks stacked with papers, a few leather chairs, numerous old rugs, and six perfectly round skylights that allowed crisscrossing beams of sunlight, each swirling with dust, to illuminate the entire space. The ceiling was covered with a vast canopy of gauzy spider webs. Clearly, no one had been here for a very long time.

  At first glance the observatory appeared to be a celestial lookout, a place to watch the stars, but a closer examination proved that it was truly a watchtower meant to monitor the movement of passing travelers on the forests and plains below. Indeed, there was an entire library of books, organized by date, with careful notations on which armies, merchants, and lonely travelers had passed through here.

  Currently, the observatory was packed with roughly one hundred children – and Alfonso and Marta – both of whom had taken the form of adults in their twenties. Among the children was the teenage boy who had once been their leader. Now, instead of giving orders and issuing threats, he sat quietly, seemingly awed and intimidated by his surroundings. Several hours before, when Alfonso had ordered the boy to drop his rock, the boy had caved. Immediately after that, he had become a meek figure – shoulders slouched, head down, face pouting – like a child who had been severely scolded by his teacher. The transformation was dramatic. At first, Marta had insisted on tying him up.

  “It’s not necessary,” said Alfonso cooly

  “Why not?” asked Marta. “He tried to kill me!”

  “He won’t bother anyone now,” said Alfonso confidently. As he said this he looked the boy directly in the eyes. “He is just a coward – a scared boy playing bully – nothing more. Trust me, I know the type, you can find them in any schoolyard.”

  Marta frowned. She didn’t trust the boy, but she went along with it. As the children settled down in the observatory, Marta asked them questions. “How long have you been without your parents?” she asked one of the children, a small sallow-faced girl with clumpy brown hair.

  “They took mama away to be a slave when my sister and I were three or maybe four years old,” replied the girl.

  “Who did?” asked Marta.

  “The feathered horsemen,” replied the girl.

  “She means the Dragoonya,” interjected the boy who had once been the leader. He looked about uneasily, unsure of himself. “They didn’t bother with us because we were too small to do their work.”

  “Instead we had to do his work,” said the girl with the clumpy hair as she pointed accusingly at the boy.

  The boy said nothing in his own defense, he simply looked away.

  “What’s your name?” Marta asked the little girl.

  “Basia,” replied the girl.

  “Everything will be okay now,” said Marta and, as she said this, she reached out and clasped the girl’s hand. Basia smiled and her eyes filled with tears. Their conversation was interrupted by several of the smaller children who had begun to cry.

  “They’re hungry,” explained Basia. “We haven’t eaten in a very long time.”

  “There’s food here,” said Marta. “I saw a room filled with provisions several floors below.”

  “What kind of food?” asked Basia hopefully.

  “I’m not sure,” said Marta, “But come with me and we can have a look.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Alfonso.

  Marta stood up, gestured for the others to follow, and then headed toward the stairs. The other children followed eagerly. Marta currently had the physical appearance of an adult – in reality, of course, she was not even ten years old – but the other children deferred to her because of her calm and confidence. It seemed miraculous to Alfonso that, just a few hours previously, these same children had been chasing Marta with the aim of killing her.

  “Do you need help?” asked Alfonso.

  “No, I’ll be okay,” replied Marta as she took Basia by the hand and disappeared down the stairs. The other children followed en masse. The teenage boy stood up, as if to follow them, but Alfonso shook his head. “Not you,” said Alfonso. “You stay here with me.”

  The boy sighed heavily, as if in protest, but he did as he was told. For several minutes neither of them spoke. “What is this place?” asked Alfonso finally. “Do you have any idea?”

  “It’s an old Czuczke watchtower,” said the boy.

  “Czuczke?” inquired Alfonso.

  “Yes,” said boy, “They were traders and hunters and they set up these watchtowers along their trading routes. At least, that’s what my brothers told me, before they were taken...” The boy frowned and then grew quiet, as if he were angry at himself for revealing so much of his own story.

  Alfonso studied the boy closely. He was filthy. He had food stuck in his teeth, months of dirt packed under his fingernails, and a dark coating of dust, sweat, and grime covering his face. It was hard to tell exactly how old he was. He had the look of a boy who was large for his age – perhaps a ten year old who was big enough to pass for fourteen. But he wasn’t dumb. Alfonso felt certain of this.

  “What’s your name?” asked Alfonso.

  “What does it matter?” asked the boy angrily.

  “If we're going to talk, it helps to know each other’s names,” said Alfonso. “Mine’s Alfonso.”

  “Okay, fine – mine’s Kolo,” said the boy grudgingly. “So tell me, Alfonso, what are you going to do with me?”

  “Well one thing is for certain,” said Alfonso. “I’m not leaving you here with these kids.

  Kolo shrugged, as if he didn’t care.

  “What happened to your brothers?” asked Alfonso.

  “What does it matter to you?” asked Kolo.

  “Just answer the question,” said Alfonso.

  “Slavers took them,” said Kolo sourly.

  “Took them where?”

  “To their city,” Kolo replied. “The one they call ‘Dargora’.”

  This got Alfonso’s attention.

  “Why didn’t they take you?” asked Alfonso.

  Kolo said nothing.

  “I asked you a question,” said Alfonso.

  “I begged them to take me too,” said Kolo finally. His face contorted in pain, as if recalling this memory dredged up some deep bitterness in him. “I tried following the convoy, but the guards threw stones at me. I followed anyway, at a distance. I wasn’t the only one. A bunch of us kids did this – a gang of us – we didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Then what happened?” asked Alfonso.

  “I – we – followed them for a long time, until we came to a junction with three rivers.”

  “How long did you follow them for?” asked Alfonso.

  “I don’t know, a long time – until we were nearly dead,” said Kolo. “We tried to make it through the stone forest, but couldn’t.”

  A stone forest. This was it, Alfonso thought. The petrified f
orest that Resuza talked about...

  “Why not?” asked Alfonso.

  “Because of the fog wolves,” explained Kolo. “They come out each night and roam the forest. We hid from them for a while, but they found us.” The boy shuddered suddenly, as if chilled. “I was the only one of our group to make it back.”

  “And since then you’ve been ruling over these kids and trying to kill strangers by throwing stones at them?” asked Alfonso pointedly.

  “I’m not going to lie to you,” said Kolo. “I have done some bad things since then – really bad things – but you would have done the same things if you were me. Sometimes that’s the only way to stay alive.”

  Chapter 23: Flying North

  Leif Perplexon was good at fixing things, especially while asleep. He always had been. Ever since he was a teenager, he had shown a great knack for repairing virtually anything with moving parts – bicycles, lawnmowers, chainsaws, mopeds, fans, tractors, fancy exercise machines – it didn’t matter what the thing was, if it was broken, you just gave Leif a wrench and a hammer, and his sleeping-self would do the rest. He was just like his brother Hill in that respect. These skills often came in handy, and this was certainly the case in the tree canopy of Straszydlo Forest. When he finally made it across the canopy of tree branches in pursuit of the mysterious woman who claimed to know Alfonso, it only took him about fifteen minutes to assess the problem with her flying machine.

  The right and left ailerons were damaged.

  Ailerons are the hinged flaps near the tip of the wing that allow the plane to roll to the left or roll to the right. This flying contraption didn’t have wings, but it had two fins that essentially functioned in the same way. Leif saw that the hinges were busted as were the cables that connected the ailerons to the pilot’s steering mechanism. This particular flying machine was most definitely not an airplane. It looked more like a flying donut. Its large oval-shaped balloon was filled with some sort of gas that had the same effect as helium, thus lifting the machine off the ground. There was also a propeller in back. Below the balloon was a small cabin equipped with chairs upholstered with velvet, leather couches, a table, two or three oil paintings, a large bearskin rug, and a small potbelly stove. It was, without a doubt, the oddest vehicle that Leif had ever laid eyes on.

  At present, both Leif and the woman were perched on a branch inspecting the right aileron.

  “Where’d you get this contraption?” asked Leif.

  The woman ignored the question. “Can you fix it?” she asked.

  “It shouldn’t be too hard,” said Leif confidently. And he was confident. In the flying cabin, there were tools and enough odds and ends that would function as spare parts. “If you can get us off this tree branch, we should be okay.”

  “I’ll get us off the branch,” replied the woman. Then, without uttering another word, she took out her sword and began hacking away at the branches and vines that were currently wrapped around the body of the aircraft.

  “I’ll join you in a sec,” said Leif, “But first I have to do something.”

  “What?” demanded the woman.

  “You’ll see,” explained Leif. “I need to get something I left behind.” He had no intention of revealing too much to this strange person. And for the time being, she needed him.

  It took Leif the better part of two hours to find a rope and a pulley and make a harness. He was just getting ready to depart when the woman tapped his shoulder and handed him a loaded crossbow. It was a small compact weapon, which was already loaded with a sharp metal bolt. “Take this,” she said. “You may need it.” Leif thanked her and then began lowering himself to the ground with the use of his rope and pulley. The closer he got to the ground, the more uneasy he became. The sun had set and the forest was totally dark; it was impossible to see even the faintest trace of a shape; nonetheless, Leif could hear movement below him. Branches were snapping and, at one point, it sounded like bark was being peeled off a tree. When he was about fifteen feet above the ground, Leif whistled loudly. He heard a howl and then a great scampering of feet. Leif let himself drop down another few feet and whistled again. There was a great, WHOOOSH, and something slammed against Leif’s chest. Leif felt damp fur and a wet tongue. He closed his arms.

  It was Korgu.

  For a moment Leif felt something tug on his foot, but before the thing could take hold, Leif shot it with his crossbow. There was a horrible scream. Frantically, Leif began using the pulley to hoist himself and Korgu upwards as quickly as he could. Leif was tired and it took a long time, but once they were more than ten feet off the ground, he relaxed and pulled at a measured pace.

  The woman said nothing when Leif arrived with Korgu, the giant wolf. She simply nodded, and they both set to work on the repairs. It was night, and Leif nodded off to sleep with tools in his hands. His sleeping self immediately set to work. The woman seemed nonplussed by this strange sight of someone working while asleep. In fact, within an hour or so she had started to sleep-work as well.

  They labored through much of the night. At dawn, the flying machine was more or less fixed. Leif had hammered the dented ailerons back into shape and had mended the steering cables as best he could. The thing wouldn’t fly like new, not even close, but it should work. The woman, despite her injuries, had worked all night hacking away the branches and vines.

  “Let’s go,” she yelled.

  Leif scrambled into the vessel. The woman took a seat at the front of the cabin, flicked a couple of switches, and then said, “Hold on.” Seconds later, there was a loud groan and the entire ship lurched forward. They appeared to be stuck, then the ship lurched again, and suddenly they were floating upwards. Leif felt a surge of relief and excitement all at once. The woman said nothing. She simply guided the aircraft back up into the sky. She steered by using two rudders, which she operated with her left and right hands. The ship flew surprisingly well. The cloud cover was thick and, initially, it was difficult for Leif to make out anything on the ground.

  “Where are you headed?” asked Leif. He was anxious to find Alfonso and, if possible, sooner rather than later.

  “To the same place as you,” the woman replied matter-of-factly.

  “Oh?” said Leif.

  “Have a look,” said the woman, pointing downward with an index figure. Leif glanced in the direction in which she was pointing. The clouds were slowly clearing and he was able to see glimpses of the ground. He soon found himself staring at a vast forest of what appeared to be evergreens, only all the trees, for as far as the eye could see, were dead. There was no trace of a forest fire, which is the only thing that could have done this. It was as if the trees had, en masse, simply decided to shed all their pine needles.

  “It hasn’t reached Straszydlo Forest yet, or perhaps Straszydlo is somehow immune, but the rest of the world is going to hell – and quickly,” said the woman.

  “The Shadow Tree?” inquired Leif.

  “Yes,” said the woman. “It must have been planted a few days ago.”

  “How quickly does it grow?”

  “Not sure,” said the woman. “Truth is, I don’t know much about it. When I was growing up in Somnos we used to sing a nursery rhyme about it – Let me tell you of a dark shadow tree and the world's end – but it was just a story to scare kids.”

  “You’re Dormian?” inquired Leif.

  The woman nodded.

  “And that’s where you met Alfonso – in Somnos?”

  The woman nodded again.

  “So,” said Leif with a sigh of frustration, “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing, flying around, by yourself, in this crazy balloon?”

  “Looking for Alfonso,” replied the woman, “And perhaps the Shadow Tree as well.”

  “And what exactly is your plan?” asked Leif. “I mean, once you found this tree, what were you going to do?”

  “Still working on that,” said the woman, and she flashed the briefest of smiles.

  “Fair enough,” said Leif, a
lso smiling for a moment.

  “How about you?” asked the woman. “What were you doing on top of a tree in the middle of Straszydlo Forest?”

  “Looking for a ride,” said Leif.

  “Fair enough,” replied the woman, again smiling briefly.

  In the corner of the cabin, beneath the table, Korgu was fast asleep and snoring. For some reason, the sight relaxed Leif. How could the wolf possibly sleep in these bizarre circumstances? It was wondrous. Leif took a deep breath and looked around, examining the cabin a bit more closely. The couches, the chair, and the table were all very finely made, as if taken from the parlor of a wealthy family. The oil paintings on the wall were all of fish, which seemed very odd to Leif. There was a cabinet with silver cutlery and fine china plates. In the far corner of the cabin, there was a small framed certificate, which Leif had somehow failed to notice before. It read:

  Hammerson Brothers Zeppelins – London, England.

  Flying Fishing Vessel. Prototype SFS 2A.

  Built for the Lord and Lady Groh.

  Equipped for use on inland seas, modified for rooftop landings.

  This plainly made no sense.

  Leif glanced out the window and, for a moment, saw something gray and pointy sticking through the clouds. He glanced around the ship, spotted a small pair of binoculars, grabbed them, and used them to survey the ground below. “Hey,” shouted Leif excitedly, “What is that over there? Bring us in closer.” The woman agreed, but when they got closer, what Leif saw turned out to be just an outcropping of rocks on the top of a mountain.

  “What were you hoping to find?” asked the woman.

  “Nothing,” replied Leif dejectedly.

  “Well, there is some pretty good shepherd’s pie in the icebox,” said the woman. “Help yourself.”

  “Shepherd’s pie?” said Leif incredulously. “Where the heck did you get that.”

  “It’s a long story,” replied the woman.

  Leif ate his meal and stared out the window in a daze. Dead trees and shrubs for as far as he could see. It was a total wasteland. All of Asia and perhaps Europe also would soon look like this. And yet right now all he could focus on was stuffing his face with the shepherd’s pie and savoring the taste of chicken. When he was done eating, he suddenly felt extraordinarily tired. He moved himself over to the couch with the intention of lying down for a few minutes – just to rest. He awoke several hours later to the sound of the woman’s voice.