Forsaken Island

by Sharon Hinck

  Brantley squeezed the bridge of his nose. “No, no. Our trees are a far travel from here. Now, can you guide us to a path to the sea?”

  “The sea?” Trilia rolled one shoulder and rubbed her neck, as if she, too, were developing a headache. “Do you speak of the lake?”

  Brantley gestured to the wall of foliage behind us. “We found our way in through the trees. Is there another way out?”

  The woman stared as us blankly. Then she let out a shriek of laughter. She leaned forward and slapped her thighs, then cavorted in a circle, still giggling. A few of the disinterested villagers who had been lounging on stairs by the homes heard her and jumped up, racing over to learn the joke.

  Through gasps of laughter, Trilia pointed to us. “They say . . . they came . . . through the trees.”

  One young man’s jaw dropped open, then his expression shifted to a sly smile. “Oh, that be a new story. A good one.”

  An old woman snickered. “I don’t recollect a tale like that before.”

  Trilia slapped Brantley on the back. “A fine joke, that one.”

  Brantley’s fingers opened and clenched several times, as if wanting to wring a few necks.

  Our efforts were producing nothing but a rising temper in Brantley. If she knew a way through the rim, she wasn’t going to tell us. I rose to my toes and lowered, facing Trilia. “Our people will appreciate the fruit.”

  She shrugged. “Much enjoyment to you and yours.” After a quick bob up and down, she and the others meandered off.

  Brantley sank to the ground and braced against one of the smooth saplings. The neck of his tunic was dark from a line of sweat. Bits of vine and leaf still tangled in his hair and stuck to his linen trousers from his earlier climb. The lines on his face hardened as he frowned. “Carya, what sort of people care so little about strangers? They didn’t demand to know more about us. They didn’t seem threatened. They brought out no weapons.”

  I settled beside him and stretched out my sore ankle. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  He lowered his chin, his piercing eyes confronting mine. “Even you must sense that something is strange here.”

  True. I’d heard the plaintive cry of the island the day before. Perhaps some darkness hovered inland, but we wouldn’t be staying long enough to find out. Meanwhile the people seemed generous and good-humored, if odd. “It’s just as well they aren’t interested in us. Let’s focus on finding a way out. We’re running out of time before Meriel drifts out of reach.”

  Brantley’s harrier-sharp gaze swept the edge of the clearing that we could see from where we sat. Thick foliage loomed dark and foreboding. “I agree. For now, we’ll leave the harvest and find our escape.”

  His use of the word “escape” made my stomach muscles clench. The towering trees and vines seemed to bend inward, and the sense of being trapped heightened. Brantley sprang to his feet and offered his hand. “How is your leg holding up?”

  With his assistance, I rose in one graceful motion. “It’s healing.” The last thing he needed was the added worry of my crippled state. Even his question stirred my deep humiliation. A hobbled dancer was a horror, a travesty. I had yet to come to terms with my identity, but I’d show him I could keep up. “I’m not sure we can avoid people if we’re going to search for a path in other parts of the clearing.”

  Inland, the village buzzed with activity. More and more people had spilled from the buildings, their bright clothing flashing amid the equally bright homes and ornaments. Back home, our cottages were constructed from branch and thatch. These homes also seemed formed of wood, but the wood had been painted with curlicues, wave patterns, and even images of birds and rodents. Laughter dotted every conversation rising from clusters of people, while other individuals strolled along the village’s daygrass-covered paths, pausing in front of one shop or another.

  Brantley sighed. “We’ll search the outer edges first.”

  His frustration with the villagers tugged a smile from my lips. “And if we don’t find a path, I’ll talk to more of the villagers so you won’t have to.”

  He chuckled. “I admit I’ve no liking for the riddles of society. Not even those on Meriel. And these . . .” He swept an arm toward the stage, where three people had settled to play some sort of game, tossing carved wooden shapes and giggling as they landed.

  “Perhaps the people of Meriel would be this carefree if not for the shortages and struggles we’ve faced.”

  He glowered at a group waving scarves and spinning along a path until they disappeared behind one of the tallest buildings. “Then I’m grateful even for the Order, if the suffering they inflicted on Meriel prevented us from becoming this mindless.”

  I grinned. Brantley would bravely ride stormy waves to herd fish for his village or rally an army to face down corruption, but he found conversation maddening, especially with people he didn’t understand. I, on the other hand, saw the villagers as potential new friends and was intrigued to learn about their world. It was gratifying to know I could help our mission in ways he couldn’t.

  We left the net of lenka I’d gathered and walked, keeping as much distance as we could from the villagers. For now, we ignored the fruits and nuts and ample tubers sprouting from the rich soil. “Do you really think they have no leader?”

  Another cloud passed over Brantley’s face. “I’ll wager they have a leader, but the person in control is clever enough to hide that fact.”

  “You’re too suspicious. Look how happy everyone is.” Back in the Order, every face was tight with fear, gaunt from endless striving to perfect our movements. Villagers of the rim bore dark rings beneath their eyes, drawn by deprivation and uncertainty. Here everyone looked well-fed and happy—if a bit unfocused. By the time we’d skirted the entire clearing in our unsuccessful quest for a path, my curiosity had only grown.

  People wandered among the fruit trees, eating or chatting with no observable sense of plan or purpose. A man sat on the edge of the platform near the bonfire, idly plucking a stringed instrument, while a young woman spread parchments on the stage and drew pictures with willow pens of various thicknesses. No one seemed interested in what anyone else was doing, and no one showed particular interest in us. Their attitudes hinted at a peacefulness and security I envied.

  “This place is making my skin crawl.” Brantley stopped at a point on the far side of the buildings. A trail led inland, which would only take us farther from the sea and our journey home.

  The land rippled beneath us, and Brantley softened his knees to adjust his balance. I stabilized myself with a nearby trunk. One of the buildings lurched at the motion, but the supple timber of the homes didn’t creak.

  We’d tried Brantley’s plan, but now I needed to explore the village. “Let me go talk with people. If I can figure out their manner of speech, maybe we’ll find someone to tell us how to get through the trees.”

  Brantley tugged at the makeshift bandage on his hand. “Or maybe someone is blocking our way. If your patterns made the trees part, what’s to say someone else didn’t make them close?”

  He was right. Delving deeper into the village might lead us to people less carefree and blasé. Even people who would wish us harm. Branches rustled overhead, and my nerves prickled as if tiny insects scurried up my spine. I hid my unease under a deep breath. “Whether the village holds an enemy or a potential ally, either way, we can’t keep wandering around.”

  Brantley’s shoulders slumped, perhaps a bit of acknowledgement that his desire to avoid people wasn’t working. Then he straightened and offered me his arm, probably aware that my limp was growing more pronounced. “Let’s go,” he said. Eyes alert, jaw set, he had conceded to get acquainted with the people, but he still approached the path as if a battle threatened.

  I set a course for the heart of the town. In our world, the gathering lodges often formed the core of rim villages, with the Order poised in the middle of the entire island. A village center seemed a logical place to look for some
one more knowledgeable than the people we’d met so far.

  In spite of our urgent need to return to Navar, my steps slowed after we passed the outer homes. Beauty assaulted me from each direction. The next layer of buildings held even more elaborate carvings than the outer houses, with brilliant shades of paint and intricately woven vines. Some of the walls looked like a row of novitiates’ braids. Others were planed into a smooth surface and bore images that seemed to tell a story. Delicious scents of flowery herbs and astringent lanthrus wafted from a building with a wide-open window, along with a salty whiff that made me lick my lips. I peered inside. A man shaped dough into forms of trees, animals, and humans. On a table, tiny bresh cakes—held together with honey and skill—formed sculptures of enchanted gardens and tantalizing landscapes.

  From the second floor of the next building, several voices sang together, their harmonies vibrating enticingly through my bones. I took a few steps toward the outer stairway, but Brantley pulled me away. “Don’t get distracted. Look for someone who can answer our questions—if that person even exists.”

  He was determined to be glum about our prospects. I was too excited by each new discovery to let him drag me into his worries.

  “Look at that!” I hobbled away from Brantley’s supportive arm to gaze into a gazebo that held display tables. A chandler had created designs in wax dyed with the colors of every fruit or berry I’d ever seen. One was so large that if all its wicks were lit, it would illuminate an entire longhouse. A squat man with a neck like a tree trunk and a nose as bumpy as persea skin sat on a stool near a table, cutting and shaving a block of wax.

  I traced a finger over a small candle in the image of a stenella. “Did you make all of these?”

  The man’s gaze skimmed over me, and he nodded. “Help yourself.”

  I pulled my hands back. “Sorry, I have no coin.”

  His head came up, so thick and heavy on his shoulders I expected it to make a grinding sound. “No what?”

  “No way to pay you.”

  “What matters that?” He rubbed wax-coated fingers up and down his nose. “These be free for the taking.”

  “That’s very generous.” I reached for a sculpture of a forest hound beneath a maple tree. Wicks extended from several branches of the tree, and the hound’s eyes sparkled with amber color.

  A low sound of dismay rumbled in the man’s chest. I quickly set the candle back on the table and gave him a questioning look.

  “I be having a bit of attachment to that one.” He added a heavy sigh. “Good thing tomorrow be the convening, right?”

  Brantley cleared his throat to get my attention and cut his eyes to the street. “We need to keep moving.”

  “I know,” I said softly. “One more moment.” I moved closer to the man as his fingers continued to shape the wax. “Sir, do you perhaps know the Maker?”

  His hands stilled, and he leveled puzzled eyes my direction. “Of course. We are all the maker.” He chuckled, the sound like wood splitting, and then returned to his work.

  My forehead puckered, but I allowed Brantley to lead me away. All the maker? It sounded like a lovely notion. Certainly it seemed that everyone we’d met was busy creating . . . music and clothing and art of all sorts. But the words prickled my heart like the unexpected brush of a nettle.

  “Well, at least we learned that they know the sea. Those barrier trees and vines must have an opening.”

  Brantley frowned. “He didn’t say anything about that.”

  “The sculpture of the stenella. They must see them.”

  “Or once did,” he said darkly. “There.” Brantley quickened his pace toward a three-story building surrounded by a plaza of stone sculptures and potted trees trimmed into triangles and diamonds. Huge carved doors opened outward, allowing glimpses of polished marble floors. “This is where we’ll find someone in power,” Brantley said and guided me to the yawning doorway.

  Inside the vast lobby, towering wooden pillars surrounded us, some carved and some gilded. A staircase wound along one wall, leading to an inner balcony with doors to rooms on the second level. Paintings and banners cluttered every surface of the walls. Embroidery drew images of clouds and water and copper fish leaping. In one faded corner of a tapestry, a stenella spread its fins and glided in shimmering colors. Another clue that these people had once known the vast ocean and the creatures that swam in it. The depiction made me long for Navar. Was she worried about us? Or when we didn’t return, would she simply swim away?

  I couldn’t let the novelty of this place distract me. We had to find a leader who could answer our questions and help us get back to the sea.

  Just as I was about to concede this point to Brantley, raised voices clashed from a side room. A deep voice rumbled, and a shriller voice cut it off. I tiptoed across the marble floor toward the inner doorway and hid to one side, peeking in. I didn’t need to worry about being seen. The people inside were too preoccupied to notice us.

  Men and women lounged on fabric-covered couches and overstuffed armchairs, their jarring red, orange, and purple robes creating visual chaos. Bowls of fruit and platters of cakes filled a low table. I spotted Morra sitting on the floor as he wove strips of vines together in a decorative basket.

  “We can absolutely postpone the convening for a few days.” Trilia, the woman I’d met earlier, plucked a lenka from a carved bowl, the angled cuts of her white-blonde hair swinging. “The weather will be better then.”

  A convening? Other villagers we’d met had mentioned the same thing. I strained to hear more. Perhaps this event would provide a leader, someone who could help us find our way off this island.

  A shaggy-haired man with a gray beard lurched to his feet and paced behind the couches. “You’re wrong. One of the musicians has grown attached to his latest composition. And at least three couples have been sharing star eyes and were overheard planning to leave messages for each other.”

  Morra blushed and ducked his chin lower, speeding up the work on his basket.

  An old woman with looping braids bunched all her facial wrinkles together and pointed a gnarled finger at Trilia. “He’s right. Far too dangerous to wait. I’ve seen this happen. Years ago—”

  Morra raised his head and scoffed. “You be remembering too much. Not a virtue.” The others cast the aged woman scornful sneers.

  “Very true.” She sagged back into the couch, suddenly appearing much older. “I were too ill for the last convening. Weighs on one.” The old woman shrank in on herself.

  It hurt me to see her disrespected by the others. On Meriel, matriarchs were given the greatest respect—whether in the Order, or midrim villages, or among the rimmers.

  I’d watched long enough. I exchanged looks with Brantley, lifting my chin. He rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head but without much conviction. He knew he couldn’t stop me.

  I limped into the room, rising and lowering in a quick bob. “Greetings. My companion and I need to find a way to the sea. Can any of you help us?”

  The old woman pressed a hand over her heart.

  Morra grinned. “We be meeting again.” He tossed aside his basket and looked at the group. “Forgot to mention we be having visitors.”

  “From where?” The old woman squinted at us.

  Brantley stepped up beside me. “A far village. But now we must reach the sea.”

  The gray-haired man stroked his beard. “Never heard of that.”

  Trilia, who was still chewing her lenka, shook her head. “Perhaps they be meaning the lake?”

  The rest of the group murmured agreements. “Strangers, if you be confused, the convening is needed. All will be well when you venture on the inland path.”

  Frustration pulsed against the back of my eyes. “We don’t want to go farther inland. We need to reach the shore.”

  “Today,” Brantley bit out. He slid a pouch from his tunic pocket. “Is there anyone who could guide us? We have coin to barter.”

  The bearded man marched
over to us. “I misremember. Have I met a far villager with such strange speech?”

  Brantley shook a few coins into his own palm, and the man poked them with little interest, then shrugged and turned away.

  My turn to try. “Do you have dancers in your village?”

  Morra laughed. “We all dance.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen you, and you all move with skill. But I’m asking after those who learn patterns and shape the course of the island.” If Brantley’s suspicions were right, someone might be preventing the vines and saplings from parting and letting us out.

  A few of the people spared a blank stare our direction, then lounged back, dismissing us. “Enough distraction,” one woman said. “I still say we must not delay.” Immediately others picked up the debate again, brushing us off as if we were no more than annoying splatters of raindrops.

  Having a dire need that others didn’t even acknowledge was a sharply lonely sensation. The pain of being ignored tied a knot in my chest. “Excuse me,” I said loudly.

  The debate drowned me out. “Please!” I shouted, clapping several times. This time the room fell silent, and I clenched my hands together. “We have to find a way through the trees. Is there anyone in your village with knowledge of how to do that?”

  The bearded man aimed his pacing our direction once more. “We’ve given our best wisdom. Be you addled to ask again? Leave. Our discussion here is important—”

  Gasps rose around the room.

  The man pressed a hand over his mouth, then stroked his beard, shame coloring his cheeks. “Apologies. Clearly we must delay the convening no longer.”

  Morra rose and ambled over, clapping the older man on the back. “Happens to the best of us. I’ll see them out.”

  We followed Morra back to the massive lobby. The gilded pillars no longer stirred my admiration, and the tapestries and sculptures seemed to taunt me. Brantley leaned in. “I don’t like this. They aren’t merely obtuse. There are secrets here.”

  I agreed with him. Each hour that passed felt like a thicket closing in, the thorns drawing closer to our skin. I searched for a hopeful word. “At least everyone has been kind and pleasant.”