Shadow Tree

by Jake Halpern

  Meanwhile, in the time that all of this had transpired, Nartam had retrieved the battleaxe and was once again threatening to attack Bilblox. He was presently lifting the battleaxe over his head, preparing to strike. Bilblox dropped to his haunches, and as Nartam began to swing, Bilblox exploded upwards and succeeded – at least partially – in ripping the brass rail from the wall. His effort was too late, however, and as the blade of the battleaxe came downward it missed Bilblox’s wrist but still managed to cut deeply into his forearm. Bilblox’s only response was a deep moan.

  “Wait!” yelled Kiril.

  “Stay out of this!” yelled Nartam.

  Nartam raised his battleaxe again, bringing it all the way back over and behind his head, but before he could bring it down, Bilblox kicked desperately and swept Nartam’s legs out from under him. Nartam toppled backwards and, once again the battleaxe clattered to the ground close to Bilblox. Bilblox grabbed the axe and, with a quick chop, broke the chain on his handcuffs. In the blink of an eye, however, Nartam was back on his feet. Bilblox lunged at him, axe in hand, but Nartam deftly stepped out the way and used Bilblox’s own momentum to push him forward. Bilblox tried to regain his balance, but his forward momentum was too strong. He exploded through the glass door and onto the balcony where only minutes before Naomi had been stranded.

  It was really more of an observation deck than a balcony; there were no chairs or even a guard rail to enclose the space. Wisps of clouds blew past. Bilblox lay face down in a pile of glass. Blood was trickling out of his body in a quick stream. Nartam ran over to Bilblox’s prone body and raised the axe above Bilblox’s neck. Kiril ran over as well. There was no way out for either of them. Bilblox needed to buy some time.

  “Bilblox,” said Kiril sternly. “Give us the Pen.”

  “Have you lost your appetite for fun?” asked Nartam. “I think it would be far more memorable to simply chop of the fellow’s hand – don’t you?”

  “Stop,” gasped Bilblox. “I’ll give you the Pen.”

  The wind on the balcony was blowing fiercely and Bilblox wasn’t sure if Nartam even heard him.

  “Then do it,” ordered Nartam. He put his foot on Bilblox’s chest.

  “Give it to him,” Kiril shouted at Bilblox. “And be quick about it.”

  Bilblox turned his blood-streaked face to one side and awkwardly maneuvered his two hands together. He used the thumb and the index finger on his left hand to probe and then to squeeze his right hand just beneath the base of the thumb. What happened next was so astounding, Nartam and Kiril couldn’t help but gasp. The skin on Bilblox’s hand began to bulge as if something jagged were trying to break its way out. Moments later, a silver point broke through the skin – without causing so much as a drop of blood to spill. Bilbox grabbed the point and, very carefully, pulled a silver Pen out of his hand. As soon as the Pen was out, the skin on Bilblox’s hand sealed itself again, leaving no trace of where it had opened – not even a small scar.

  “Where? How did...” asked Nartam.

  “The instructions were inside the Pen,” gasped Bilblox. “It’s all yours.” He snapped his wrist, flicking the Pen across the balcony. It came to a rest lodged in the accumulated snow, just inches from the far edge. Nartam lunged for the Pen. With his incredible agility, he seemed to appear next to the Pen instantly. He held it up to the moonlight, as if transfixed, and studied it.

  Kiril took a step toward Nartam, but Nartam saw this and held out his hand.

  “Stay where you are!” he warned. “I want you to back off this balcony slowly, I’m not taking any chances.”

  Kiril was considering his next move, when he felt an angry presence next to him. It was Naomi, and she was staring with hatred at Nartam. He knew enough about her that she had an angry streak that clouded her judgment. If they ever made it out of this situation alive, she’d have to work on this. But for the time being, he could use it to his advantage. In fact, he suddenly understood exactly what he was destined to do.

  “No one will bother you or your Pen,” Kiril said soothingly. “But Bilblox is in terrible shape. Naomi, quickly, check on him. He needs pressure to stanch the bleeding.”

  This seemed to reassure Nartam and he turned back to looking at the Pen. What happened next was a moment that Kiril would play over and over in his mind for many years to come. As Naomi scampered toward Bilblox, Kiril shoved her roughly, causing her to stumble forward and to trip over Bilblox’s prone body. By the time that Nartam saw what was happening it was too late for him to do anything. Naomi collided roughly into Nartam. Nartam lost his balance. His arms pinwheeled wildly and he lost his grasp on the Pen. It flew away from him with such force it almost seemed to be alive. Nartam roared. He fell backwards off the balcony and disappeared into the snow-filled air.

  Although Nartam had taken the force of Naomi’s fall, her momentum still took her over the edge. She tried to hold on but lost her grip. Bilblox saw this and lunged forwarded to save her – extending a massive hand and grabbing her by the leg. He then pulled Naomi backward with a ferocious yank. Naomi crumpled to the floor of the observation deck, sobbing. Kiril witnessed all of this impassively.

  Naomi got up teetering and crawled over the broken glass towards Kiril. She was sobbing, but hatred shown in her eyes.

  “Why did you do that?” she cried. “You shoved me... shoved me almost off... off the edge. ...I could have died.”

  “Yes,” said Kiril softly, “I am afraid that’s true.”

  “I thought you would protect me,” she sobbed. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I did love you,” said Kiril as he peered over the abyss into which Nartam had fallen. “And, for a time, I loved that man too.”

  For a long moment, there was no sound but that of the howling wind.

  “I knew you’d come,” said Bilblox finally. “I knew it.”

  For a moment, Kiril thought that Bilblox was talking to him, but it quickly became evident that Bilblox was looking past him – over his shoulder – toward someone else. Kiril spun around and there, standing in the doorway that led out onto the deck was Alfonso.

  Chapter 50: The Shadow Tree

  Hill and Resuza quickly climbed up the Shadow Tree. It was one of the easier trees to climb, even though their hands and arms were soon covered with the oily sap it was excreting. The bark itself was quite rough and bumpy. It was also warm enough that an inch-thick fog clung to the bark. Hill had wanted to climb the Tree because he knew it was the one place Alfonso was sure to go. It also gave them a high vantage point to see what was about to unfold.

  “What now?” asked Resuza.

  “Wait and watch,” said Hill, panting for breath. “And look for Alfonso.”

  There was a crash overhead and a large burning branch tumbled downward, spraying them with embers and ash. The branch missed them narrowly. They both looked away and used their arms to shield their eyes.

  “That was close,” said Resuza.

  “Those fools up above us are burning branches,” said Hill

  “Let me have a look,” she told Hill. “I’ll climb just a little ways and see if any of them are climbing down toward us.”

  Hill hesitated.

  “It’ll be more dangerous if they surprise us,” said Resuza.

  Hill nodded.

  Resuza disappeared into the branches above. Hill walked further out along one of the major limbs. He went as far as he dared before it became too narrow. The branches were incredibly resistant to weight, as if made of steel, allowing Hill to sit down and survey the surrounding area while only a foot away from the tip of the branch. He could see nearly all of Dargora: the low slung slave and support buildings on the ground, the spindly pillars that reached up to the sky, and the ships that appeared to be floating through the air.

  Hill shuddered from the cold, and lay flat against the branch in order to get some of the Tree’s heat. He tried to think about what would happen next, and tried unsuccessfully to extract the piece of paper containing the prop
hecy from his jacket. No matter. He had committed it to memory: A Perplexon will rejoice with friends in the dark of the chasm. He will then destroy the Tree by himself. A Perplexon will succeed, but he will also die.

  It was during this moment that something caught Hill’s attention. A speck was descending from the largest floating ship, and was heading towards the Shadow Tree. The speck grew quickly until Hill could tell it was a wooden gondola swinging from a tarnished, charcoal-colored hot air balloon. It was a very strange sight. But what really caught Hill’s attention was the person standing in the gondola and pointing towards the tree. It was Kiril and, standing next to him, was none other than Alfonso.

  Alfonso had been reluctant to follow Kiril, but he had no other choice. Alfonso needed to get to the Shadow Tree as quickly as possible and Kiril insisted that this was precisely what he wanted to do as well. Kiril also had a means of transport, a hot-air balloon, and this sealed the deal. So far the Dragoonya leader had delivered as promised. With Naomi’s help, Kiril had expertly bandaged the most severe of Bilblox’s wounds, and led them all down a series of staircases until they came to a large wooden platform that jutted out into the air. Tied up next to the edge was a large wooden gondola dangling from a hot air balloon. They quickly boarded. Naomi and Bilblox lay on the floor while Kiril and Alfonso stood. Kiril expertly fired up the burners, untied the mooring ropes and minutes later, they were descending through the clouds and floating directly toward the Shadow Tree. By manipulating the burners and assessing the wind currents, the balloon descended on course.

  The bright orange orb of the sun rose from the horizon. Kiril grabbed his binocoulars and studied the ground below. At one point, he took a small mirror out from a pocket in his inner coat, and began fanning it back and forth in a rhythmic fashion – so that it was reflecting the sunlight in a peculiar manner. He did this for several minutes and then from down below he was rewarded with a response, which came in the form of another flashing light. Someone on the ground with another mirror was responding.

  Alfonso watched Kiril carefully.

  “Don’t bother,” said Naomi. “It’s a code that Kiril uses to send messages. I’ve been trying to figure it out for months.” She said this with a certain amount of pride, even though she clearly wasn’t privy to the communication.

  “I guess he don’t trust you either,” whispered Bilblox.

  “He doesn’t trust anyone,” said Naomi tightly.

  “Here,” said a voice from behind them. It was Bilblox. Bilblox unclenched a fist and, in his hand, was the Pen. He handed it to Alfonso.

  “I knew you’d have it,” said Alfonso. It seems to find you.

  Alfonso studied the Pen for a moment, rolling it back and forth in his hand. In his other hand, he held a wooden stick. Alfonso spun the stick, so that the skinnier end was pointing upward, and used his finger to probe a small hole that was burrowed into the tip of the stick. He then inserted the Pen into the hole. It fit perfectly, as Alfonso suspected it would. There was a click and, instantly, the entire stick began to emit a faint silvery glow – the color of moonlight.

  Bilblox, Kiril, and Naomi watched on in amazement.

  “I figured you’d know what to do with it,” said Bilblox finally.

  All the while, they drew ever closer to the Shadow Tree. Individual branches came into focus. They were gnarled and twisted and the uppermost branches appeared to be moving – not the way that a tree’s canopy sways in the wind – but the way a terrified animal struggles when trapped. Alfonso stared at it with an awful familiarity. This was the tree he had foreseen in the Hub, during their trek through the Fault Roads.

  “Can you set me down on one of those big branches at the top?” he asked.

  Kiril nodded.

  “Then what?” asked Bilblox. Overcome by curiosity, he and Naomi were standing as well and looking down at the Shadow Tree. “We just leave you there? And what happens when all the soldiers have seen what you done? They’ll tear you apart. No, that ain’t much of a plan. Forget it. Let me come with you.”

  “Bilblox,” said Alfonso firmly. “You’ve got to trust me.”

  Bilblox grimaced, but said nothing.

  “It’s time,” said Kiril, “Are you ready?”

  Chapter 51: In the Branches

  When Alfonso landed on the Shadow Tree, the tree itself shivered violently; and then, as if in response, a groundswell of angry cries resonated from the Dragoonya soldiers encircling the tree below. They all lunged for the tree at once and began climbing it, pushing and shoving each other to get ahead. It was as if every single person who had taken the ash was now heeding the tree’s call in a great rush to save it. Those already in the tree – the leaf cutters – immediately stopped their work and began heading towards Alfonso. From every direction they converged on the spot where Alfonso was currently standing.

  Alfonso climbed quickly, stopping on a few occasions to hide from the leaf cutters, and within a few minutes he had arrived at his final destination – the spot on the tree where there was a large, gaping gash on the trunk. He held his stick, whose end was affixed with the Pen, almost like a bayonet. All he needed to do was plunge the weapon into the tree and the tree would die. If it was this simple, why did it have to be him? Alfonso had no idea.

  “I’ll never understand why people don’t just act.” This conversational voice came from just behind Alfonso. He whirled around and stared uncomprehendingly at a sixteen-year-old of small stature with a cruel face. The teenage boy was standing on the same branch as Alfonso only feet away.

  “Did you think I was gone for good?” he asked, with a half smile. “Oh goodness, that would have been convenient I suppose. How precious. Such wishful thinking will always get you in trouble, Alfonso, don’t you know that?”

  “Nartam,” replied Alfonso.

  “Good to see you my dear, dear boy,” said Nartam. “Now please step aside before I slice open your guts and let you bleed to death.”

  Alfonso felt the weight of the stick in his hands. He slouched his shoulders in apparent defeat and let the stick dangle loosely in his hands.

  “How did you get here?” Alfonso asked.

  “Well, at first I fell,” said Nartam. “It was rather dreadful falling all that way and breaking my neck and my spine as well. But I am not so easily killed. The ash really is marvelous in that way. It makes me nearly immortal. So then I got on my feet and climbed. Care to hear more details?”

  Alfonso could hear a great commotion both above him and below him. There were people in the tree – scores of them – and they were converging on him.

  “Details?” asked Alfonso as calmly as he could.

  “Ah, yes,” said Nartam, “The details are always...”

  At that moment, Alfonso concentrated to make his move – a twirling jump towards the gash, weapon extended. But before he even moved a foot, Nartam had tackled and pummeled him onto the branch with such ferocity that Alfonso’s very breath choked within his throat.

  “No, no, no my lovely child,” said Nartam in the same conversational tone. “You’ll have to do much, much better than that.”

  Nartam picked up the stick and held it up to take advantage of the first rays of morning light. At that moment, a sharp rock whistled towards his head and struck his left eye. Nartam howled, dropped the stick and put his hand to his eye. It came away bloody. Alfonso took advantage of the situation to escape from being underneath Nartam’s foot. He stood up, picked up the stick and with all the force he could muster, thrust it – with the pointy tip of the Pen acting like a spearhead – deep into Nartam’s belly. It lodged there like an oversized arrow. The Dragoonya leader grunted in pain and fell to his knees.

  Who had thrown the rock?

  Alfonso looked up.

  Resuza.

  “Hurry!” she yelled.

  Alfonso had never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life.

  Resuza jumped down next to Alfonso and the two of them faced Nartam. The Dragoonya leader
was looking down at the stick protruding from his belly. It looked like a fatal wound although oddly, he was smiling.

  “Do not fret,” he grunted. “All is well.” Nartam grabbed the stick and held it tightly. He closed his eyes, focused, and the stick blew apart. Shards flew everywhere and the Pen, which had formed the tip of the stick, fell down through the branches and vanished below. Nartam’s left eye and his gruesome stomach wound rapidly healed.

  “No!” yelled Alfonso and flung himself at Nartam. Instead of avoiding Alfonso, Nartam gladly welcomed the blow. It seemed to have no effect. Nartam quickly counter-punched and Alfonso flew backwards, slamming into Resuza, and together they toppled off the branch and into the air below.

  The wind pounded their faces as they plummeted downward. Alfonso clung to Resuza tight and tried to force himself into hypnogogia one last time. He focused of the pulsing sound of the wind in his ears. He relaxed his mind and, felt hypnogogia within his grasp, like a brightly-lit doorway at the end of a dark hallway. But he couldn’t do it. He tried again, and again, and again. Time slowed down. He lost sense of where he was. The presence of Resuza was the only reason Alfonso kept struggling. He had not saved the world, but at least he could save her. He managed to enter hypnogogia only once – for a second. As they neared the ground, Alfonso succumbed to his wounds and fell into unconsciousness. He and Resuza crashed into a powdery snow drift.

  Resuza was the first to open her eyes. She discovered that she was lying on her side next to an old man with paper thin skin stretched tightly across his face and long strands of white hair that dotted his cheeks and chin. For that moment, everything seemed quiet. Resuza felt as if she was alone in the world, even though she heard soldiers approaching.

  “Alfonso?” she whispered.

  The old man cringed at the sound of Resuza’s voice.

  “I tried,” he whispered. “I tried.”

  Chapter 52: The Watch Repairman

  Hill wondered why no one had noticed him. Then he realized that for once, being overlooked was an advantage. Apparently, neither Nartam, nor the Shadow Tree, nor anyone else could possibly imagine that an untalented, untrained Dormian could pose a threat. And yet, Hill had always been good in a pinch. His sleeping self was primitive but effective. If he could repair an incredibly complicated watch, how difficult could it be to repair a stick? And perhaps most importantly, he understood the prophecy properly; and it seemed he was the only one who did.