“So removed from the rest?” asked Aylin.
“Let’s go see.”
Kaia rode ahead of Aylin; the latter held her steed back and proceeded slowly, so as to watch the trees. They were definitely part of Tivmica. Each skyscraper was hugged by a short fence with a gate. The hollows in their trunks were concealed; ropes weighed down by rocks were nailed along the openings’ upper edge, creating a screen. None of the trees had been damaged by the fire. Rather, it was the lack of upkeep that had cast them into disarray; some of the ropes had fallen to the ground, not a single fence was completely intact, and where there were once gardens—in the spaces between the trees and the fences—weeds had taken root.
The pair maneuvered their way through the trees. The ground was fertile; shrubs and herbs abounded. There was something sublime about the remaining blackwoods. Not merely visually, but in their essence. They were a bridge, of sorts, heralding the past into the present and ensuring its propagation into the future.
“Anybody here?”
A startled Aylin jumped. “Kaia!” she reprimanded.
“I count eleven.”
“As do I.”
“How tantalizing.”
“What is?”
“To look inside,” she said, lowering her head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“For once, extinguish your fancy.”
“It has only served to our benefit thus far,” murmured Kaia.
“This is too delicate a matter.”
Part of Kaia was certain that no harm could come of a quick tour of one of the blackwoods. The other entertained irrational fears, such as the improbable possibility of an entire tree coming down if she interfered with it and subsequently knocking the rest down; a nightmarish scenario.
“Alright,” conceded Kaia. “We’ll need to adjust the perimeter.”
“Yes.”
“Shall we?”
Kaia and Aylin went back to where they had dropped the last tinlisit and scooped up the luminous stone. Prior to starting on the true back side of Tivmica, they added to the line that they had previously thought finished. As they progressed, they observed that the rear was shorter than were the sides; it required six less tinlisits.
***
When the pair returned to where they had departed from, they found that the Marians had already gone to work. Some were setting up camp outside of Tivmica. Others were sawing mercilessly at several of the trees—hardly making a dent in them.
King Sol approached Kaia and Aylin. “Done?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Aylin.
“All well?”
“Nothing can get in, but we have no way of knowing if something already lurks within.”
“Unlikely,” interposed the stiff-backed advisor. “Look at how the light pours in. There isn’t enough shade.”
“Good,” said the king, spinning on his heels.
“We discovered something,” said Aylin, bidding Sol to lend her his attention for a bit longer. “At the very back of Tivmica, on the other side of a small clearing, there is a group of surviving red-leaved blackwoods.”
“There is?” asked the king, astonished. “Unharmed? How many? That many! In the back, you say? Excellent to know. Anything else?”
“Remains. Skeletal remains. They look to belong to the Tivmicans; the bones are small, and they are scattered.”
“Of the Marians, they are not,” said the advisor. “They will need to be collected. A proper burial must be given to them.”
“Yes. Winfred, alert everyone,” said King Sol. “All bones are to be brought here.”
“And placed where, Your Highness?”
“We will have a wagon positioned between Tivmica and the camp. Remains are to be deposited there. We will have to wait until we finish with the trees to bury them, though.”
“I shall let all know, Your Highness.”
“Secure the camp next,” ordered the king, looking to the young ladies as he strode away.
“Take these,” said Aylin, tossing a sack to Kaia. “There are seven left. You start on that end. I’ll make more and start on this one.”
“You don’t want any help?”
“No need. I’ll drop them as I make them.”
Kaia, having had just over half a dozen tinlisits to place, finished before Aylin. Dismounting, she led her mare through the maze of tents—all of which were roughly the same size, except for the one in the middle. The king’s, thought Kaia, while she searched for Pelliab and the princes. Everyone around her was in motion. Some were piercing the ground with nails, others were kindling fires, and still others were unloading barrels from horse-drawn wagons; the latter reminded her of ants, hastily conveying their bounty home.
There they are, thought Kaia, catching a glimpse of Pelliab throwing several sticks onto the grass.
Pelliab bent over to move a basket away from the flames. Kaia stopped in her tracks. Was that a flower sticking out from his shirt, near his upper back? It was! Pelliab lies? To whom? Surely not to us, yet he has hardly spoken—beyond what has been absolutely necessary—to anyone outside of our group since we arrived in Mar. Perhaps I jump too far. It could be that that one fell from above and landed on his shirt. Wanting to know for certain, Kaia continued towards the kingsman.
“You are alone?” asked Kaia.
“The princes were over there somewhere,” answered Pelliab aloofly. His lips were definitely thinner.
“Alright. You have something on your neck,” said Kaia, grabbing at her own.
Pelliab pulled on his shirt and brushed his neck. The flower remained in place. Kaia, pretending not to notice, patted her mare and walked away.
***
Kaia shivered. It was cold, and she could smell the soil. Her right arm was wet; someone, she knew who, clutched at it. Her stomach was growling, lamenting the missed meal. Ignoring all, the exhausted, feverish Kaia tried to go back to sleep. She couldn’t. Someone rocked her. Opening her eyes, she beheld the starry sky; she was no longer in the tent, and it was oddly quiet. Had they been left alone?
“L-L-L-L,” cried a voice.
Kaia flipped onto her side. Stephan lay beside her. Something was terribly awry, though. His little fingers pulled on her nightgown, begging for help. His neck was deformed by a horrific gash. Paralyzed by shock, Kaia only stared at the boy. His mouth opened as he tried to speak; no sound came forth. Stephan’s face contorted in agony and then relaxed as he stopped moving. Kaia, her eyes burning as they inundated, stared at his bloodied chest; it ceased rising and falling. She made to scream, but her grief was almost instantly quelled by terror.
To her left, not too far away, a large man was stooped over, knife in hand. He was handling something, something that lay close to the ground. A child! It was a child! Keeping her head low, Kaia looked on either side of her. She was surrounded by sleeping children. The burly man, with hair so long that it covered his face, pulled the tiny head back, exposing the neck, and then sliced at it; he moved diligently down the line, making progress in Kaia’s direction. Children were being killed! No, murdered! Why?
A second man appeared. He did not have a knife in hand. Instead, he was carrying two inert children. He passed by Kaia—who feigned sleep—dropped his load onto the ground, and disappeared into the tents. In that moment, Kaia realized that she could not stay where she was, for she would die. Going into the tents was not an option, either. Kaia touched Stephan’s face and gently pulled up on one of his eyelids to be sure. He was gone. The second man reappeared, bearing another pair of slumbering children. He left just as quickly as he had the first time. Now, she thought.
With her belly close to the ground, Kaia began to crawl backwards towards the red trees behind her. She had to hurry, or the second man was bound to catch her when he returned. When she was convinced that she was out of the knife-wielder’s peripheral vision, Kaia spun her body around and crept on all fours into Tivmica. She hid behind one of the trees and looked attentively at
the line of children. Her escape had gone unnoticed. With her eyes following the two men, Kaia tiptoed into one of the trees. Two Tivmicans were sleeping inside. She tried to stir them; they would not awaken. Kaia tried another tree. There, too, however, was a Tivmican who refused to rise.
Growing increasingly fearful, Kaia bolted. She ran as fast as she could, which, to her dismay, wasn’t very fast at all. She ran until she saw only trees with green leaves, and then she ran some more. She cried as she fled. To her astonishment, her voice was that of a child’s. Looking down, Kaia was brought to a halt when she caught sight of her bloodied sleeve. Stephan’s blood, she thought. Trembling, she ripped the nightgown from her body—she didn’t merely sound like a child, she looked like one, too—and ran naked through the forest, crying unrestrainedly.
Everything began to go black. Kaia could hear someone calling her name. The louder the voice grew, the dimmer became the world. All around Kaia started to flow away, leaving behind crisscrossed trails of nothingness. A disorienting purge ensued, and Kaia was ushered into a most uninviting void. Her eyes registered no images. Her fingers combed through the air; nothing was there for them, either. Only the voice could she hear. It continued to summon her.
When Kaia opened her eyes, she found Aylin kneeling beside her, holding her with both hands. They were alone, inside of their tent.
“What happened?” asked Aylin with a worried frown.
“Bad dream,” answered Kaia, sniffling. Tears continued to flow. An ineradicable sorrow had anchored itself in her bosom. The dream had felt so real that her heart still ached for Stephan. She mourned him as she would have mourned any one of her sisters.
“Kaia, talk to me.”
“Ever since we came out of the black field…I’ve been having dreams with someone that I saw in there. Is that not odd? Has that been happening to you?”
“Yes. They aren’t necessarily bad dreams, but yes; it’s happened to me.”
“These aren’t just bad, they’re exceptionally disturbing and…confusing.”
Aylin sat down beside Kaia. “They aren’t real,” she whispered, rubbing Kaia’s back. “Nothing that you see when you close your eyes can hurt you. It exists only in your mind.”
Kaia clenched her jaw. She found Aylin’s tone to be needlessly patronizing, and she regretted confiding in her. She knew what dreams were; that was beside the point. At least the Speaker succeeded in stopping her crying.
“We can stay in here for a while,” said Aylin.
“No. I’m ready.”
***
“You know what we need?” asked Lyon, digging into one of the blackwoods with an axe.
“What?” asked Kaia.
“A few giant beavers.”
“A beaver could not cut through this,” said Warrin, heaving an axe of his own.
“You do not listen, Brother. I said giant beavers, ones that are several hundred feet tall.”
“Hundreds of feet tall! That’s too big; they would cease to be useful.”
“Nonsense!”
“How would you train such a beast?”
“I wouldn’t. I would have you do it. You have such a knack for subduing animals.”
Kaia and Aylin, sitting on the ground with their chins pointed upwards, struggled to conceal their laughter. They had been asked to serve as spotters; should anything from above threaten to come down, they were to alert the others.
“Take care not to err in front of Lyon,” said Warrin. “He will never let you forget it.”
“Excuse me,” said a middle-aged woman with a crooked nose. “Are you the two that found the trees yesterday? Yes? Oh, excellent. Tell me, how did they look? Is it true that they were entirely undamaged? They had leaves and the bark was not peeling or rotting away? They looked healthy? Yes? Marvelous! Oh! My name is Mrs. Enkle. My husband and I are farmers. I ask because—do you know what King Sol intends to do once all of these trees are gotten rid of? Plant a batch of flowers in place of every blackwood. If the trees are as you say they are, it may be possible to harvest cuttings from them and plant a new blackwood in place of every felled one. I just wanted to be sure that my husband didn’t mishear your conversation before I present my proposal to King Sol. I best go,” said Mrs. Enkle, looking in the direction of the tents. “They call me.”
“That would be amazing,” said Lyon. “Tivmica would truly be restored then.”
“Indeed,” added Warrin.
Mrs. Enkle had inadvertently drawn Kaia’s attention to the camp, allowing her to catch Pelliab ducking into his tent.
“Aylin, do you mind if I leave for a moment?” asked Kaia.
“No, not at all.”
“Where are you going?” asked Warrin.
“To talk to Pelliab,” said Kaia. “I’ll be right back.”
Kaia stood outside of Pelliab’s tent and called his name.
“What?” he answered.
“It’s Kaia. I am coming inside,” she warned.
“What do you want?” he asked without lifting his gaze from his work.
“I know.”
“Know what?”
“That you deceive. The flower wouldn’t come off easily, would it?”
“Whom have you told?”
“No one.”
“This curse shall never be lifted. The wrongs are impossible to right,” he said, as he sharpened his knife.
Kaia winced. “You miss your family?”
Pelliab kept sharpening.
“Whatever you’ve done, you need to fix it. If you turn, you’ll never see them again.”
“It does not matter. The same fate awaits me regardless of what I do.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“There’s at least a chance—”
“No, there isn’t. If I fix what I’ve done, I will remain human, but I will be imprisoned and the Blackwell name will be tarnished. If I leave things as they are, I will become a beast, but I will be free and the Blackwell name will remain clean; my children will not be dirtied.”
“You choose Torsnem.”
“Over suicide?”
“Over life.”
“You do not listen,” scolded Pelliab, leaving the tent.
“Everybody back!” screamed several voices.
Kaia ran outside. A swarm of bodies rushed into the campsite. Creaking and moaning, one of the blackwoods tilted slightly.
“It’s coming down!” cheered a voice.
The blackwood bowed, bidding farewell.
***
“We must never forget. The memory cannot die with us. The generations that will take root after we are gone, they need to know. Words can only do so much. We can tell our grandchildren that the damage was devastating. We can give them the numbers and inform them of how many lives were lost. We can explain at length how the land changed. It won’t be enough. I fear that when all is done, and Tivmica is as it was before, our words will lose their power. They’ll lose their impact. Our grandchildren will listen, I am sure of it, but I want them to do more than that. I want them to carry this within them. How can they do that if when they look up, they see only a scene that is both beautiful and whole? That is why I say: let them see the burnt, empty homes; let them see the dirtied bones; let them see the scorched land—which still cries when it remembers its injury; and let them ponder what it would be like if these homes were theirs, if these forgotten bones were those of their brothers and sisters, and if this land were the same one that their parents had tilled and that they had frolicked on in their youth. Let them imagine all of these things. There is one thing that I will not leave to their imaginations. That is why I paint. The images are not for me. They are for those yet to come. Let them see the ruin as clearly as you and I do now,” said Mrs. Curtiscol. “Besides,” she added, pulling her brush away from the slab of wood in front of her, “I am much too old. They would never give me an axe.”
“So you came specifically to paint?” asked Kaia.
&nbs
p; “Yes.”
“And how many paintings will you make?”
“Many. Many, many, many.”
“Are you an artist by profession?”
“No. My uncle was—back when there was a Ramitus.”
“And where will you put these paintings when they are finished?”
“I don’t know exactly. I want to place them somewhere where anybody who wishes to can see them.”
“Like along the wall?”
“No. There they’ll be too exposed. If it rained, well, that would be the end of them. Have you heard of what the Enkles want to do with the blackwoods?”
“Yes.”
“I was considering possibly housing my paintings within one of the blackwoods, if their plan succeeds. What do you think?”
“Kaia!” called Warrin.
“Oh! I must go, Mrs. Curtiscol. I think that that’s a good idea, though,” added Kaia, before leaving.
“Take care, dear,” she responded.
Warrin was seated on a two horse wagon whose bed was filled with logs taken from the felled blackwood. Kaia took her seat next to the prince. Their charge was to convey the load to the town of Oskin for use as firewood.
“Kaia!” called Lyon, loading wood onto another wagon. “Perhaps you should hold the reins.”
“Have you no other tune?” asked Warrin, sending the horses forward with a flick of his wrists. “So, how are you?” he asked, as they rode away.
Kaia’s mind went to Aylin. She better not have mentioned the dream to him.
“I am fine. How are you?” answered Kaia timorously.
“Grand!”
“Are you?”
“Yes. How things have turned around! Soon our gains will number greater than our loses. Did you know that we received word from Bennett?”
“No, I didn’t. What does he say?”
“He is eager to leave Jenio.”
“Is something…”
“No, no! Everything is fine. He wants only to join us.”
“Will he?”
“I told him not to. Have you heard from Elania?”
Capering on Glass Bridges (The Hawk of Stone Duology, Book 1) Page 18