by Lydia Deyes
We need to keep going, I thought as soon as the vision faded.
I said it aloud, with more conviction. “We need to go!” Desperate to move, I spread my wings to take off. A wave of burning, searing pain pierced them. My head spinning, I grasped the perch tightly just before I fell off. Flying was out of the question.
“How can I go on like this?” I cried, to no one in particular. I felt helpless, hopeless. The reminder of powers I didn’t have made my situation seem even worse. I strained to keep my grip on the branch. As I attempted to regain control, Al stretched and waddled over to where I was buried in the bush. He shook his rain-drenched fur, then dipped his head under the canopy, wincing at the twigs that poked his eyes.
“Sheer, sir, are you all right?”
“No,” I said, grimacing. “I can hardly move my wings. The pain is unbearable. We have to keep going… but I don’t know how.”
The muskrat looked at me with pity, which stirred a feeling of anger inside me. I didn't want to be pitied! That was the last thing I needed. I was tired of being deaf, tired of having others look at me with sadness. I was frustrated with the world already, and I didn’t need the pity of another random creature.
“Well,” he said simply, ignoring my glare, “I’d offer for you to ride on my back, but I don’t think I have the control to be still enough not to knock you off. But you could always just walk.”
I blinked. The idea hadn’t occurred to me, but why should it have? I’d always flown everywhere or hopped from place to place. I’d never traveled long distances without my wings. I looked over at Amery, where she dozed in a nearby tree. I’d be much slower if I moved without flying, but it would at least be faster than nothing at all. Would she grow tired of moving at a reduced pace? Would she be willing to join me on the ground, despite the humiliation of appearing like a bird without the ability to fly?
“I’m sure Amery would join you,” Al said, tracking my gaze and catching on to my train of thought. “You should get some rest and think about it. Maybe we can try it for a while tomorrow.”
I nodded. I wasn’t sure why I was taking advice from a massive rodent we’d only just met, but his words rang true. “You’re right,” I said. “We’ll try it tomorrow.”
XLVIII
The next morning, we continued on towards the dark western cliffs, towards the danger I’d seen in my vision. We traipsed along the forest floor, Al waddling beside me and Amery as we hopped on the ground. Al was right about Amery’s willingness to stay beside me — she hadn’t even complained.
I constantly felt the urge to gaze around me. It was different, traveling on the ground despite the distance from our destination. The tops of the trees seemed so far away. Heartsick with longing for flight, I brought my gaze back to the ground. As we traveled, the brook beside us slowed to a trickle compared to its former self. The slow moving water was clouded with mud. At first I was glad not to be distracted by the fervent splashes of water, but after a while, the sticky feeling of thirst made me wish it had stayed.
We gradually came into an area where the trees and bushes were dry and dead, even the pines. The ground, though wet from the rain, wasn’t muddy. None of the water seeped into the dirt; rather, it stood in vast puddles. I did my best to avoid them, but it was hard, and I tripped into more than one. I shivered, cold and wet and afraid, then shook off my feathers and forced myself to move on.
Al, on the other hand, was loving it. He jumped and frolicked in the puddles, drenching me with cold water. He looked at me apologetically for a moment, then went right back to what he was doing. Despite my frustration, I couldn’t help laughing at his antics. The combination of his head, which seemed too large for his body, with the stubborn ridge of fur on his back, made him an interesting sight as he bounced around in the puddles.
◆◆◆
We traveled like this for several days. The rain stopped, but the clouds above us became darker with each step towards the western cliffs. After my dream, I knew this darkness wasn’t from the heavy load of an impending storm — it was from Nivek himself. The ground was cracked and dry; the forest around us was dying. Only the riverbed showed any sign of moisture. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, and the only things that seemed to be alive were the flies and mushrooms feasting on the devastation. Had Nivek really done all of this, and how? Did he control the weather? Even if Malvador was real and spreading fires throughout the land, that wouldn’t cause this incredible drought… would it? Was this related to the horrible events I’d seen in my vision, where animals and plants that weren’t destroyed by the shroud became a part of it and added to its power? I shuddered with fear and forced myself to hop onward. Hopefully, soon we’d be out of this terrible place.
Food became harder and harder to find. One morning, all Amery was able to find was a single bush with a few dried berries. I couldn’t eat them. The memory of being poisoned still rang sharply in my mind, and I opted to go hungry instead.
That afternoon, we finally entered a shaded grove with conifers that were somehow still alive. The ground was softer here; I wondered if it had once been a marsh. Yet, though there was life, there was nothing to eat. Every bush and tree had been picked clean; even Al had trouble finding roots that weren’t essential to the tree that had grown them. There was still no sign of animal life. My stomach rumbled. I wished I’d eaten some of those berries.
I turned to Amery and Al, perplexed. “You guys, where do you think all the food…”
Suddenly, a dirty rabbit hopped in front of us. I twitched my head from side to side, but I couldn’t determine where he’d come from. He sniffed at us, then wrinkled his nose. “There’s no food for strangers in this part of the forest,” he said. “And we won’t take chances. I don’t know where you’re going, but you’d best go ‘round our grove.” He tipped his ear to our right, where a log bridged the dried riverbed we’d been following. Perhaps once it had been used to cross the rapids. When I looked closer, I noticed a faint worn path leading off into the distance, away from the river, parallel to the western cliffs we were trying to reach. Taking that path would be a significant detour.
I shook my head and turned back to the rabbit, who seemed to be waiting for a response. “We can’t do that,” I said. “We have to follow the river. We’re trying to get to the western cliffs, and this is the fastest path.”
The rabbit wrinkled his nose again and narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, sir, but we cannot risk a misplaced step, a broken branch, or a stolen berry. We have many sick and hungry, old and young, to feed. Please…”
“But he’s the Silent Warrior!” Al interrupted, ignoring my attempt to hush him. “We cannot lose our way.”
At the mention of the honored name, the rabbit took a step back. “The Silent Warrior?”
I just looked at him, neither confirming nor denying the fact. He thought for a moment, looked me in the eyes, then turned and beckoned for us to follow him into the camp.
When we made it past the dense cluster of pines marking the outer border of their territory, I understood why they’d wanted no visitors. A number of animals rivaling the size of Samuel’s family had gathered together in an attempt to survive the slow but steady devastation of the forest under Nivek’s influence. As we passed by them, each turned their head to stare at me, and they whispered among themselves. They were all thin and gray, even the children.
Someone dropped the acorn they’d been carrying to one of several small community piles. It rolled towards me, and I instinctively grasped at it. A surge of want, of need, coursed through my veins. I struggled to control the desire to steal this food for myself, but the feeling was so overpowering, I began to shake. I gripped the nut so hard, my claw started to ache. Then I looked up at the squirrel who’d dropped it. She reminded me of Hazel, if Hazel had been younger and starving. Imagining my friend with a clearly outlined ribcage barely covered by loose skin and fur was enough to snap me back from Nivek’s control.
I can’t even eat this! Wha
t am I doing?
I let go of the acorn and pushed it back with my beak before the feeling could return. The squirrel delicately lifted it from the ground and nodded her thanks.
We entered a clearing, at the center of which was a single fallen tree. Many paws had turned the grass around the tree to dust, and the trunk was polished from frequent use.
Their version of our central hall on the thirteenth floor, I thought.
The rabbit led us to one side of the trunk which served as a table, then disappeared into the forest on the other side of the clearing.
After we’d waited several minutes, the rabbit returned with a few others: a falcon, beaver, robin, badger, and squirrel. I guessed these were the leaders of this community.
“Greetings, Silent Warrior,” the beaver addressed me. “What brings you to these sad woods?”
“We’re just passing through,” I responded, glancing at Amery and Al beside me. “We are heading towards the dark cliffs.”
All of them shuffled on their paws or talons, uneasy at this news. The falcon flapped his wings. “Why do you not fly there? Your journey would be much quicker that way. It’s a quick flight for me from here, but the way you’re going about it, you won’t reach it till spring.”
“I have… reasons of my own,” I replied. I didn’t want to share too much about my disability. “And besides, this muskrat is my friend, and I don’t want to leave him behind.” Beside me, Al grinned at my mention of friend.
Each of the animals at the other side of the table nodded. The badger backed away and left for a moment; when he returned, he was carrying a large piece of bark piled with food in his maw.
“Here,” he said, setting the bark down on the trunk. He gestured at the seeds and roots it held. “Please, eat. You’re welcome to rest the night here, as well. We wish you the best on your journey.”
I stared at them, shocked. Other animals from the community had gathered at the outer edges of the clearing and were watching us. All of them desperately needed food, and the leaders before us were no better off. “We can’t possibly eat this,” I argued, snapping a glance at Al, who was already stretching his paw towards one of the roots. My head pounded in resistance, and the longing I’d felt earlier when holding the walnut returned. It took all my strength to subdue it, but I remained stubborn. We didn't deserve this.
The rabbit shook his head. “We insist. We know that whatever is causing this terrible devastation, it all seems to have stemmed from those awful cliffs. That’s why you’re going, isn’t it?”
I nodded. The thrill of the possibility of power gained from joining Nivek seeped through my blood, and I let it. The rush felt good. I’d started out on this journey to defeat him, but though I was tempted to reconsider, finding Nivek was still technically the reason we were headed to the western cliffs. It wasn’t a lie. The rabbit was saying something about hope in the Silent Warrior, but I didn’t really care anymore. If they were insisting that we should eat their food and sleep in their hollows for the night, I wasn’t going to complain.
“Thank you,” I said when he was finished. “We appreciate your generosity.”
We sat and ate while the community watched. I tried to ignore the envious looks of their youngest, but they still soured the meal with twinges of guilt. I repressed the feeling, choosing to savor instead the refreshing seeds that quenched my hunger.
XLIX
That night, I rested in the rabbit’s burrow. He was kind enough not to ask questions about why I wouldn’t choose a branch. I drifted off into an easy sleep, comforted by the full feeling in my belly.
I woke with a start. The earliest rays of morning sun were drifting into the burrow; the rabbit was still asleep. Something seemed odd, but I couldn’t place it. I poked my head out of the hole. Everything seemed normal. Then I turned my head to see Amery, standing at the edge of the rabbit’s burrow, speaking in harsh tones. Shaking my head to clear it, I stared at her and tried to discern what she was saying.
“Sheer, you’re pathetic,” she barked. “You gave up on your quest to destroy Nivek. Just look at yourself. I never complained before, but if there’s an evil force in this world, it’s you. You’re selfish and full of yourself. Just yesterday, you let these poor animals stare at you eating while they starved. You’re the one responsible for all these deaths — not Nivek. You abused your powers; no wonder you can no longer use them.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Where did this accusation come from? I tried to protest, but she just continued with her rant.
“And yet you claim that because of your powers, because of what you’ve done in the past, you should be treated like a king? What about your actions in the more recent past? What about the present? This community may not realize what you’ve done since the battle of the thirteenth floor, but I do. I see your faults. They revere you for acts of good will and humility from the battle, and for how you ended the war against Finsternis. Where is that soldier now? He’s certainly not in you. You allowed Kevin to influence you so much that he changed who you are. You have to snap out of it!”
I didn’t know what to say. I was angered by her speech, but a creeping sense of guilt was there, too. I knew many of the things she said were true. The guilt rose steadily until it overpowered the anger, and soon I was pleading before her. “Amery, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry is not enough, Sheer,” she replied hotly. “You misused your gifts. You mistreated these animals… you mistreated me. Saying you’re sorry isn’t enough. You have to show it, too.”
I closed my eyes, overpowered by the wave rushing through me. Though it hurt, it felt more like myself than anything else had lately. After a long pause, I opened my eyes, but I was confused to find myself back in the rabbit’s burrow. I scrambled out of the tunnel, blinking in the morning light and searching for Amery.
Where did she go? She was just in front of me…
Finally, I spotted her. She was walking with Al, quite a ways away.
“Amery!” I called. “Where did you go?”
She looked towards me, then made her way to the burrow’s entrance. “What’s wrong? Al and I were just out in the woods, helping these animals to forage for food for their piles. You aren’t normally up this early, so I didn’t think to wake you. Should I have?”
“What… what do you mean? You were just here, speaking to me, a moment ago.”
Amery cocked her head. “No, we’ve been gone since before sunrise, Sheer.”
I was confused. Had I been dreaming? But it had seemed so real! It wasn’t like any of my other dreams or visions. The time and place had been exactly the same as my actual setting, but that had happened before. Something else was different…
My heart stopped in realization. I’d heard no sounds. Unlike all my previous dreams and visions, I’d been unable to hear. That was what made it seem so real. Was this disability such a part of my life now that it extended into my dreams, too?
I realized Amery was watching me, waiting for a response. “Never mind,” I told her. “It was just a dream.”
We said goodbye to the rabbit and the rest of the community, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about my dream. Even though it wasn’t real, it had stirred up several things I’d let collect dust over the past weeks. Things I wasn’t proud of. I struggled against an incredible desire to repress them. I didn’t want to think about the things I’d done, or the negative impact they may have had on others. Yet this time, I allowed the tiny protesting voice inside me to speak up. Maybe the Amery from my dream was right.
Our journey continued for ten long days and nights. The entire time, I bore my sufferings in silence. My headaches rose and fell in intensity alongside my feelings of guilt and longing for power. Some days I strode onward through the pain, driven by the promise of power and strength that could come from joining Nivek. Other days, I felt so burdened by guilt and sadness, I could barely lift my feet from the ground. I grew accustomed to a certain pain in my stomach. It helped that it paled in c
omparison to the relentless aching in my skull. On days that were my lowest, though, I felt bad for Amery and Al. I knew they were hungry, too. They spent much of the journey talking to each other, since I was silent. I paid little attention, too busy with my own thoughts to decipher theirs.
One afternoon, on a day when I was feeling brighter and ready to meet Nivek, I barely felt any pain at all. I still couldn’t fly, but that didn’t matter as much anymore, especially since I had both Amery and Al beside me. Savoring the freedom, I actually allowed myself to enjoy the walk. I breathed in deeply, taking in the sweet, musky scents of the last days of autumn. All the leaves had fallen from the trees now, and the forest floor was blanketed in fading color. I tried to imagine what it would sound like as I hopped through the crisp, dry leaves, but I’d been without hearing for so long, I was unable to.
I couldn’t remember any sounds at all. Even Amery’s voice, which had been engraved in my memory ever since the single beautiful snippet I’d gotten so long ago in a vision of Nyoka, was fading. It made me sad. I’d been having a decent day, so I tried to turn my thoughts from the sorrow, but the more I tried to think of other things, the more my mind returned to her voice. I could almost feel the memory slipping away. In a last effort to recall it, I tried with all my might to remember the vision. But the harder I focused, the faster it slipped away. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t remember the beautiful voice that had echoed in my head so long ago, back when Amery was Nyoka’s apprentice.
I realized with a start I’d stopped hopping forward and my traveling companions had turned to wait for me. Al seemed confused, which was a comical look on him, especially combined with his untamed peak of fur. I would’ve been delighted by the expression, but when I turned to Amery, my own emotions were reflected in her visage. I was sure she had no idea what exactly was going through my head, but she knew me well enough to know I was sad… and my sorrow made her sad, too. I wasn’t sure what to think of this, so I hung my head and hurried to rejoin them.