The Orchard of Hope

by Amy Neftzger

  “Then what makes you think that I can do this without getting caught by him?”

  “Because he doesn’t know you exist. He can block me from scrying to see what he’s doing because he knows me and knows how to protect his fortress from me.”

  “And it will be easy to leave at any time?” Nicholas asked. He glanced up and down one of the deep brown walls in the room, noticing every chip in the paint and crack in the plaster.

  “Yes. You simply push away the scrying bowl and break the connection.”

  “What if … ” Nicholas hesitated and thought about the best way to ask the question without sounding like a coward, but he couldn’t think of a way to do it. “What if I can’t?”

  “I’ll be here with you,” Moss assured him, although given Moss' odd nature, it wasn’t much of a comfort to Nicholas. He rubbed his fingers across the smooth surface of the table as he thought about the situation before he responded. It sounded dangerous, but Nicholas didn’t know enough about it to understand what Moss considered dangerous.

  “So, how does it work?” Nicholas asked. The sooner they got started, the sooner they would be done, and Nicholas was eager to put this lesson behind him.

  Moss handed Nicholas a black leather glove. It was soft and yet sturdy at the same time. Nicholas held the glove and put it to his nose. It smelled like old shoes and something spicy but sweet.

  “Look it over carefully,” Moss instructed him. “Examine how it’s been worn and think about what sort of person would own something like this.”

  Nicholas turned the glove over to look at the palm. The fingertips were discolored and worn, along with a small section on the palm.

  “Do you have the other glove?” Nicholas asked. He wondered if they were both worn out in the same places.

  “No,” Moss replied. “This will have to do for now.”

  “Do you have other objects?” Nicholas asked.

  “Yes, but we’ll start with the glove. I don’t want you to be … overcome on your first day.”

  The choice of words made Nicholas feel like his stomach had fallen to the floor. He wanted to reach over, pick it up, and run from the room, but he knew the only thing to do was to begin the lesson. He held the glove in his palm as he began the scrying exercise and turned the basin.

  “Think about the owner of the glove. Think about what you know, and the rest will come to you,” Moss said with encouragement.

  Nicholas attempted this about half a dozen times before he began to see something. It wasn’t much, but it was an image.

  “What do you see?” Moss asked eagerly.

  “Glass.”

  “Drinking glasses? A window?”

  Nicholas concentrated. He leaned closer to the water and inhaled the musty leather scent of the glove.

  “No,” Nicholas replied firmly. “He’s got a laboratory. It looks sort of like the one I worked in at the Academy of Miracles.”

  There were bottles, beakers, test tubes, and cylinders everywhere on shelves and racks. He saw row after row of glass objects. On top of the nearby counter, Nicholas saw burners, scales, and other equipment. There were also a number of thermometers in different shapes and sizes.

  “Is he trying to make a miracle?” Moss asked quietly.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because it looks like he’s following a recipe, and there are no recipes for miracles,” Nicholas explained.

  ““Good!” Moss exclaimed happily. “Is he using a book for this recipe?”

  “No,” Nicholas said as he quickly glanced around for any scraps of papers or notes.

  “Then how can you tell whether it’s a recipe or not?”

  “Because he’s measuring everything very precisely.”

  “Hmmmn,” Moss stood up and began to pace slowly back and forth at the opposite end of the table. “What else do you see? Can you see the sorcerer?”

  “He’s like … he’s like a shadow. He’s a dark blur moving around the laboratory.” Nicholas had an uneasy feeling as he watched the mysterious shadow. He knew that he wasn’t in the same room, but simply making the connection into the sorcerer’s castle gave Nicholas the feeling of being close to the edge of a steep cliff off which he could fall at any moment.

  “What’s he doing? What else does he have there?” Moss asked. Nicholas shook off the feeling of uneasiness and continued with the lesson.

  “I see a giant glass bottle with a stopper in the top and a tube coming out of it. The tube has a knob on it, like a pressure valve. The contents of the glass bottle are bubbling and foaming.”

  “What color? What color is the liquid in the glass?”

  “Brownish. A light brown, the color of toffee.”

  “What else is there?”

  “He’s got a giant silver cauldron. He’s simmering something in there. It’s also brown, but there’s stuff floating on the top. It looks like scum.”

  “Simmering scum?” Moss asked.

  “Yes. Do you know what it is?”

  “Of course not! Do I look like a scum expert?”

  “I thought that maybe it was an enchantment or something.”

  “Of course it is, but we don’t know what kind yet. That’s why we’re scrying. Tell me more. Is anyone with him?” Moss asked. “Anyone or anything?”

  “Anything?” Nicholas asked. “He’s surrounded by things. It’s a lab with a ton of equipment.”

  “Wolves. Are there any wolves with him?”

  “No wolves.”

  “Any assistants?”

  “No. He’s all alone, but he’s being very careful with whatever he’s making. He keeps checking the temperature and adjusting the flame.”

  “Can you draw a picture of what the lab looks like with the glass bottle?”

  “Yes, I think so.” Just as Nicholas visualized how he would draw the picture, the shadowy form of the sorcerer rushed toward him, and Nicholas felt the urge to jump. He screamed as he pushed the bowl away. His heart was racing and his face felt hot as he gasped for breath. “He saw me!” Nicholas exclaimed in horror.

  Chapter

  13

  The First Glimpse of Hope

  “Back off!” Kelsey shouted at the reapers as she drew her knife and held it up in a menacing manner. The wind whipped her ponytail around, and she felt a sharp slap in the face, but she continued to stare down the group that had been following her.

  “We love you!” one of the reapers shouted from amid the crowd. Kelsey looked at the sun setting in the west and knew that the day would be ending soon. They didn’t have time for this sort of nonsense.

  “We’re on a mission to save hope, and all of you are jeopardizing it,” Roland announced loudly.

  “He speaks,” several of the reapers whispered among themselves with reverence. “He has spoken to us.” There was more murmuring.

  “You are our hope,” one of the reapers shouted back and the crowd cheered. A few reapers broke out in song. The group was small and difficult to hear, but Kelsey recognized the chorus of a folk song about dying and finally meeting the reaper.

  “For the love of death,” Kelsey said with annoyance. “Haven’t these people got anything better to do?”

  “You don’t know my true form. You have a false hope,” Roland explained as he shouted back at the reapers.

  “We know you can save us. We love you!” another reaper shouted. The wind picked up again and Kelsey felt another slap in the face from her ponytail.

  “How can he save you?” Kelsey shouted. “You don’t even know what his true face looks like. You’re admiring a dream you’ve created – a nightmare that you’ve become infatuated with, but it’s not who he is.” Kelsey squinted as she stared across the distance and studied their raccoon-like painted faces. The group contained individuals of all shapes and sizes, but they were all dressed alike and their faces looked identical with the makeup.

  “He’s our nightmare. We embrace him,” someone in t
he crowd shouted back happily. “If I could just touch him once, my life would be complete!”

  “They look ridiculous!” Kelsey exclaimed to Roland.

  “They’re misguided,” Roland said calmly, then he turned to the group of reapers. “You’re interfering with my work,” he called to them.

  “We want to help you!” one of them shouted back, and the group joined in with their affirmations to assist Roland in his work by slaughtering everyone he told them to kill.

  “They don’t want to listen to reason,” said Kelsey in an exasperated tone.

  “I hate to do this,” Roland said as he took off his hat and began loosening his cravat to remove it. “But I don’t think I have a choice.” As he finished speaking, he removed his glasses and looked directly at the members of the crowd that had gathered to worship him. His naked brown eyes peered across the distance, looking from reaper to reaper so that each one could clearly see his face.

  At first there was silence. Then one of the reapers toppled over as he fainted, and there was a commotion. The reapers ran in all different directions like a panicking crowd in a silent movie. A few of them ran in small circles before finding an open path leading in the opposite direction. All of them ran away from Roland as quickly as they could run in their long, black-hooded robes that tangled easily around their swiftly moving ankles. Kelsey watched them scurry and fall over. It was very satisfying for her. After a few minutes, there was no one left, and all that remained was a pile of scythes that had been dropped in the frenzy.

  “So much for their love,” Kelsey remarked.

  “That was funny!’ Maggie exclaimed with a peal of laughter.

  “Absolutely!” Kelsey agreed as she started to laugh, also. “It was the best! I wish he had done that sooner.”

  “What exactly did he do?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. Kelsey had forgotten that Maggie couldn’t see Roland.

  “He simply looked them in the eye.”

  “Those must be some incredible eyes,” Maggie said with admiration in her voice.

  “So many worship what they don’t know,” Roland said as the group studied the scene. “When people finally see what it is that they’ve been chasing, they often run away in fear.”

  “They were chasing their fantasy of you,” Kelsey said quietly. “I don’ t think they really wanted you at all.”

  “Just a common crush. That’s all,” Roland replied, and Kelsey laughed.

  “I was beginning to think it was me,” Kelsey said. “On my last journey I was followed, also.”

  “They weren’t following you then, either,” replied Roland.

  “It seems like an odd coincidence,” she said. “I’ve been followed on both of my journeys.”

  “It’s the company you keep. Everyone is either a leader or a follower,” Roland explained. “I think that perhaps you’re drawn to leaders.”

  “Does that mean that I’m a follower, then?”

  “Not necessarily. You may be a leader who is drawn to other leaders. We’ll see how your talents unfold. I don’t think you’re finished with your education and we won’t know exactly where your skills are strongest until you have all the tools you need to develop them.”

  “Well,” Maggie asked, “did he say that you’re a follower? Because I don’t think that you are. You’re a little bossy – not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just the way you are.”

  “Roland said that it’s too early to tell. We’ll know what I am in time,” Kelsey replied with a laugh. Maggie was growing on her. Kelsey knew herself well enough to understand that she had a naturally combative personality. It was a stretch for her to build relationships that were more than an alliance for the purpose of killing a common enemy, but she was learning. She was also beginning to think that there may be value in these other types of relationships. A few years ago, she never would have considered this.

  Without the reapers behind them, they felt more at ease and made good time across the prairie for the next few days, stopping only long enough to rest and eat. Maggie disliked watching Kelsey hunt, and it bothered her to see animals suddenly fall over dead for no reason when Roland looked at them. However, she didn’t mind eating the roasted meat when she was hungry.

  They made their way over some low rolling hills and through a valley. At the top of one of the hills, they looked down and could see an orchard in the distance. It looked like a peaceful place, with a pleasant sounding stream trickling along the far side of the trees. There was an old stone building resembling a monastery on the other side. The building had windows with wooden shutters that could be closed at night, but there were no screens to keep out bugs. It was tall but rustic looking.

  Kelsey and Maggie stared down the hill at the trees in the orchard, attempting to see what hope looked like, but they weren’t sure exactly what they were looking at. Kelsey removed a small brass spyglass from her backpack so that she could survey the orchard better.

  All the trees had moderately sized oval-shaped leaves and clusters of white flowers along with some large pale green spiral- striped fruit. The fruit was larger than an orange but smaller than a melon. They appeared fuzzy, like a peach, but it was difficult to tell for sure at that distance. Kelsey handed the spyglass to Maggie, then she turned to speak with Roland.

  “I’ve never seen fruit and flowers on a tree at once. They usually bloom and then produce fruit,” Kelsey remarked.

  “Hope always blooms,” Roland explained.

  “I wonder if they have singing fireflies here,” Maggie asked as she returned Kelsey’s instrument.

  “What are those? Is that a rock band or something?” Kelsey asked as she returned the spyglass to her backpack. “The Singing Fireflies?”

  “We have those at my school. They live in the enchanted forest,” Maggie said. Kelsey remembered the forest because she’d crossed through it on her last quest, but she didn’t remember seeing the fireflies.

  “The forest here isn’t enchanted,” Roland said, and Kelsey relayed the message. As she finished explaining this to Maggie, a dove flew down and landed directly in front of them.

  “A message?” Kelsey asked.

  “Well, he’s making it obvious by saying “amessageamessageamessageamessage!” Maggie said.

  “I didn’t even hear him speak.”

  “He was talking very fast and his accent makes it sound like he’s slurring,” Maggie explained. “It almost sounds like choking instead of speech.”

  Kelsey looked at Roland skeptically, but he nodded his assent. “It’s true,” he said, “doves can be difficult to understand.”

  “What does he want?” Kelsey asked and then quickly added, “Wait! Don’t tell me. I want to listen.” She did her best to concentrate by closing her eyes and trying to focus her ears. She relaxed every muscle in her body so that all her energy was concentrated on her listening. After a few minutes, the sounds began to come together in her mind and began to take form. They reminded her of familiar words and the more she concentrated the more she felt certain of the meaning.

  “He’s here to be peeled,” Kelsey finally announced proudly.

  “Healed,” Maggie said softly. Although she felt uncomfortable about correcting Kelsey’s interpretation, she also didn’t want the poor dove to get peeled.

  “Healed?” Kelsey asked. “But Megan isn’t here. Who’s going to heal this bird? I don’t even see anything wrong with it.”

  “Apparently Megan sent this bird as a dual lesson in learning to speak bird as well as healing,” Roland explained.

  “She couldn’t find a bird who could speak clearly?” Kelsey replied with annoyance. She glanced around at her companions and then continued. “Very well. Then I suppose I should ask the bird what’s wrong?”

  “Do you want me to ask for you?” Maggie offered.

  “No, thank you,” Kelsey answered. “I need to learn this.” She concentrated again and allowed her body to relax as she listen to Roland coach her on the pronunciation of the
words.

  “Coo - woo - coo - cooooooooooo,” Kelsey said the words with great concentration and then stared back at the dove expectantly when she was finished.

  “I don’t think that’s correct,” Maggie said as they watched the bird beginning to waltz in circles. “Were you trying to ask the bird if it knew how to dance?”

  “Well, at least I know that there’s nothing wrong with his legs,” Kelsey said as the bird turned a few elaborate circles and fluttered his wings to show off.

  “And you did form a question,” Maggie said with encouragement, “That’s something.” Maggie then told the bird it could stop dancing, and Kelsey tried again.

  “Coo - woo - coo - coooooooo,” she said, trying to follow the meter and pitch of Roland’s speech as she imitated the sounds. She didn’t quite understand what she was saying. She could barely understand the birds when they spoke, but forming words in their language was a hundred times more difficult. The bird squawked at Kelsey a few times and then strutted around indignantly. “What?” Kelsey asked, “What did I just say?”

  “You asked the bird if it had a brain,” Maggie answered. She tried to calm the bird, but it wasn’t until Roland spoke with authority to the bird that it understood that Kelsey was a student and required patience rather than judgment for making a mistake.

  “She’s not calling you stupid. She wanted to know if you had an injury of some kind,” Roland said in the bird’s dialect. The bird cooed and squawked rapidly for a few minutes and then suddenly stopped. It glanced from Kelsey to Maggie and back to Roland.

  “Apparently his tongue is swollen,” Roland explained. The bird had been speaking so rapidly that not even Maggie could follow what it was saying.

  “Its tongue is swollen? Is this some kind of joke?” Kelsey asked. When Maggie heard this, she began to laugh. “Megan sent a bird with a swollen tongue for me to attempt to understand and then heal it? Does anyone else think this sounds a little rough for a first lesson?”

  “To be fair,” Roland interjected, “swelling is one of the easiest things to heal, and the tongue is one of the smallest parts of a bird’s body. You can’t judge Megan’s intentions by one action.”