Sally leaned close, sniffing at the yellow powder within. She drew back at the bad smell. It was like a rotten egg in the chicken coop. “Yuck, what is that?”
“Sulfur, my dear. Otherwise known as brimstone. Often used in evil works, as it’s the burning smell of Dante’s Hell. But there’s hoodoo spells aplenty that take the approach of ‘fighting fire with fire,’ as the adage goes.”
“Brimstone.” Sally smiled.
“Only three to go,” Nel said, handing the tin to Sally. “But these others. I’m not sure what they might be. Not sure we’ll be so lucky as to have them lying around my workshop. Might require a little searching.”
There was a knock at Nel’s door, and Dmitry opened it to peer inside. “Mister Nel?”
“Come in, lad,” Nel said. “Back at last. How was the hunting?”
“Fine, sir,” Dmitry said, closing the door behind him. “Mattias’s still up on Bee Gum. But I hurried back quick as I could.”
“Everything all right?”
“We’re fine,” Dmitry said. “Just I’ve a message for you. From Buck. We ran into him and Si while we were checking the trapline. They said the seer … that one who lives over at the Clingman’s Dome—”
“Yes, Mother Salagi,” Nel said.
“She wants to see you,” Dmitry said. “Something about a council. Other seers coming in a few days. I can’t remember it all. Buck and Si were coming back to get you, but I said I could get back quicker and give you the message. Buck wants you to come right away.”
“Thank you,” Nel said. “We’ll leave after dinner.”
As Dmitry shut the door, Sally asked, “What about the Elemental Rose?”
“It will have to wait, my dear.” Nel began to collect clothing and supplies from his dresser to pack.
“But you said yourself that we might need to search to find the other three. What if I came with you? What if we looked for the rest on the way to Mother Salagi’s?”
Nel paused with his leather bag open on his bed.
“Please, Mister Nel,” Sally said. “It could be fun … trying to figure it out. And I’ll work extra hard when I get back to make up all my chores.”
Nel lowered his voice. “Do you really believe this spell might reveal what’s happened to your father?”
“I understand things in the Incunabula, Mister Nel. You know I do! Like the Gertrude’s Diadem that helped Si. I can make this Elemental Rose work. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay,” Nel said, the wrinkles around his eyes relaxing. “Let’s see if we can figure it out on the way.”
7
THE RETURN
LEADING NEL AND SALLY, DMITRY REACHED THE RIDGELINE, where the sun was bright but the air was still cool and the trees were not yet budding with leaves. Out of breath from the steep climb, Nel settled onto a rock and massaged his knee above the wooden leg.
“It’s good to be out this far again after the winter,” Nel said with a smile, wiping his forehead with a kerchief and settling his fez back on his head.
Sally rested beside him, putting down her rucksack. Inside, among her change of clothes and her share of the food, she carried The Incunabula of Wandering and the tin of brimstone. In the front pocket of her dress lay the rabbit’s foot.
“Have you thought any more about the other objects for the Elemental Rose?” Sally asked.
Dmitry turned curiously, his blond eyebrows looking white against his face. “What are you talking about?”
Nel drank from his canteen before handing it to Dmitry. “It seems Miss Sally has yet to mention to you that we are on a hunt of sorts.”
“A hunt?” Dmitry asked. “What are we hunting?”
Sally explained about the Elemental Rose and about the clues to the objects they needed. Dmitry seemed to grasp the idea right away and said, “Well, if the east one needs to be something red that symbolizes air, that’s easy enough.”
Getting back up to set off again, Nel asked, “What’s your revelation, my boy?”
The three headed along the gentler slope of the ridgeline. “A feather.” Dmitry chuckled. “That represents air, right? All we need is a red feather. From a cardinal, maybe.”
“Yes!” Sally said excitedly. “Where can we find one?”
“Cardinals are all over these woods,” Dmitry answered. “But I’m not sure how we’ll get one of their feathers. I suppose I could catch one.”
Sally winced. “You mean kill it?”
“Well, maybe not. We could try to just pluck one out and let it go.”
Nel grunted. “Let’s just keep an eye out for a fallen feather on the ground. How’s that?”
As they followed the ridge for a time, they bantered back and forth ideas for the remaining two objects.
“White could be a quartz crystal?” Dmitry tried.
“No,” Nel said. “That’s white, but I don’t see that it represents water.”
“Quartz looks like ice sometimes.”
“Still, I’m not sure that’s it. Quartz seems more to represent earth.”
“What about coal? That’s in the earth and that’s black.”
“True, but coal burns, which makes it more like fire.”
They went on and on like this, until Nel asked, “Will we join young Mattias tonight?”
“No, by tomorrow,” Dmitry said. “I know a great campsite for tonight. Great views of High Rocks. We’ll get a nice fire and I brought some yams from the root cellar to roast….”
Nel stopped. Dmitry and Sally turned. “What is it, Mister Nel?” Dmitry asked.
“Hush a moment. Your mention of the root cellar gave me an idea. Let me think.” Nel clapped his hand over his mouth, tapping one finger to his cheek. He murmured, “Roots … yes, that might be it. For the element earth. The west. See, children, these four colors, they were not just randomly chosen. Many tribes see these colors—white, black, red, and yellow—as important colors that draw on the powers of the four directions. Black and the west are the way of war. They represent might and strength. A root of the earth that gives strength …”
“Would the root have to be black?” Sally asked.
“Ah!” Nel barked, lifting a finger. “Yes, I think I have it. Charms that bestow strength often require Black Sampson root.”
Dmitry jumped. “That’s like a snakeroot, right? With those purple flowers?”
“Yes, lad,” Nel said. “You’ve seen them?”
“They’re not in bloom yet, but just ahead there’s a bald. Mattias and I saw them growing all over it last fall. Come on.”
Sally and Nel hurried to follow Dmitry. In less than half an hour’s time, the trees broke and they reached a boulder-studded clearing of brown winter grass. A hawk cried out, and Sally turned to spot him riding on the breeze.
“Look for the shoots,” Nel said. “Do you know what they look like, Dmitry?”
“I think so.” Dmitry moved out across the bald, searching.
Bent forward, Nel walked around, pushing back the dead grass to expose the tiny plants coming back to life. After a few moments, Nel squatted, opened a pocketknife, and began prying the blade in the earth. The green shoot at the top was barely an inch tall, with only a couple of small leaves, but as he shook the loose dirt from the base, he showed Sally the tangle of dark roots.
“Black Sampson root.” Nel smiled at Sally as he folded up the knife.
“Thank you, Mister Nel!”
“Dmitry!” Nel called. “We found it, my boy. You can come back.”
As Sally put the root in her rucksack with the tin of brimstone, Nel called again, “Dmitry! What are you doing, lad?”
Sally turned to see Dmitry climbing up into a twisted pine tree growing at the edge of the bald. As she and Nel ran toward the tree, Dmitry shouted. Something was attacking him in the branches. There was a squawk and a flurry of beating wings and Dmitry jumped from the limb to tumble to the ground.
A bird swooped down, and Sally saw Dmitry bat at the bird as he ran to Nel and Sall
y. The bird dove one more time, striking Dmitry on the top of his head before circling back to the tree.
Out of breath and with a trickle of blood coming down from his hairline, Dmitry collapsed at their feet.
“Are you okay?” Nel asked, running his hands through Dmitry’s yellow-white hair to inspect the wound. “Just a scratch. What was that?”
“A hawk,” Dmitry panted. “I saw her land in a tree and I realized she had a nest there.”
Nel frowned. “What in the world were you doing climbing up to a hawk’s nest?”
Dmitry opened his hand. He held three bright red feathers. “I figured if she was feeding her chicks, there might be some bird carcass. Hawks catch cardinals all the time. There you go, Sally.”
Sitting on a boulder in the clearing, Nel doctored up Dmitry’s head. Sally had the Incunabula open in her lap, looking for anything to do with water that might help figure out the last object.
“Give it up,” Dmitry said. “It’ll be dark in a few hours. I don’t think we’ll find that last one tonight.”
“But we’ve almost got them all!”
Nel dabbed the last of the ointment on Dmitry’s head. “I think he’s right. We’ve had a successful day, and aside from young Dmitry being attacked, we should count ourselves fortunate and enjoy a fire at our campsite.”
Sally ignored them. “White … white … What’s something white that could be water? Water …” She stood quickly and caught the Incunabula as it fell from her lap. “Water! Mister Nel, what’s the name of that Cherokee elder who Redfeather is visiting?”
“Water Spider.” Nel’s brow twisted.
“Why is his name Water Spider?” Sally asked.
Nel said, “It’s a type of spider that lives around ponds. But also to the Cherokee, Water Spider is a spirit that brings gifts to their people. I think it comes from the belief that spiders descending from their webs are like spirits bringing down great boons from the heavens like rain….”
Sally’s eyes sparkled. “So could—”
“Yes!” Nel bellowed. “Yes, I think you’ve discovered it.”
“What?” Dmitry asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Like showers of rain falling from above, spiderwebs are connected with the gifts of water falling on fields.” Nel clapped his hands. “A spiderweb. It’s white. Spiders are associated with rain. That’s the last one.”
The excitement fell from Sally’s expression. “But where will we find a spiderweb? It’s still too early in spring. There aren’t any spiders out.”
Nel struggled for a solution. “Yes … but … well, we could …” Then he sighed. “I think we might be about a month or so too early.”
“No, we have to find it. Can’t there be any around?”
Nel tapped his hand gently on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sally dear. But we won’t locate—”
“Actually, I think I know where we might find a cobweb,” Dmitry said.
“Where?” Nel asked skeptically. “There are no webs this early in the season. Any from last year are blown away by the winds.”
“Not all the webs,” Dmitry said. “The webs that catch flying bugs are all gone, but not the ones that catch the crawlers. Under rocks and old logs and such. Those kinds of webs are still around. But …”
“But what?” Sally asked.
“But …” Dmitry’s mouth tightened. “You never know what kind of spider it is. More often than not … it’s a black widow. I can find us one, easy enough. But I’ve already risked my neck … er, scalp once today. I’m not up for sticking my hand in some black widow’s den.”
Nel frowned. Sally pulled her hand protectively to her throat.
Dmitry looked back and forth between them. “How bad do you need that spiderweb?”
“Desperately bad,” Sally said.
Dmitry stood. “Well, then the good news is the spiders die in the wintertime. And their eggs probably haven’t hatched yet since it’s still so cold. Probably. If you want that web, chances are, you’ll be okay. You willing to try?”
“Yes,” Sally said hesitantly.
“Then come on.”
Dmitry led them across the bald and back into the forest. After he had searched in the shadowy crevices beneath the boulders and rotting logs, he called, “Found one!”
He was squatting, his face nearly to the ground, peering under a boulder. One edge jutted out in an overhanging slab of granite. He pointed. “I see a bit of the web from here.” He handed Sally a stick. “Just poke this in and twirl it around to collect the web.”
Sally took the stick from him. Nel perched over her, his hands on his knees. Sally lay flat on the ground, feeling the bulge of the rabbit’s foot in her dress pocket pressing against her stomach. She slowly extended the stick under the boulder. She had trouble seeing the web, but as her eyes adjusted, she spied a little bit of white in the shadows of the crevice. Her knuckles scraped along the rock, her fingers pushing through dirt and old leaves. She wouldn’t get bit by a black widow, she told herself over and over. It was still too cold.
Sally circled her hand around to gather the web on her stick. When she thought she had gotten it, she pulled her hand back out from under the boulder. As the stick emerged, she saw the end of the stick covered in the wooly cluster of spiderweb.
“Great, Sally!” Dmitry gasped.
Nel whistled and stood upright, squeezing Sally around the shoulder. Sally brought the stick over to her rucksack, but before she got there, Dmitry said, “Uh, Sally. What’s that on your sleeve?”
Dmitry and Nel leaned in close together to look at Sally’s arm and then jerked back together.
“What is it?” Sally asked, turning her arm to inspect. Dirt and bits of leaves and such had collected on the cuff of her sleeve. But as Sally looked closer, she realized there were tiny movements as well.
“I think those are baby spiders!” Dmitry danced a frantic step.
Sally screamed, throwing the stick in the air and batting at her arm as if it were on fire. Dmitry and Nel circled around her, trying to calm her and help brush the minuscule spiders from her clothes.
After a few minutes’ work where Sally insisted on inspecting and reinspecting every inch of her arm, sleeve, and dress for any signs of crawling, the three settled back down.
“I don’t think the babies can hurt you anyway,” Dmitry laughed, trying to reassure her.
“Quit talking about them!” Sally shivered as she went over to pick back up the stick. She looked closely at the web to make sure there were no baby spiders in the silky mass. Feeling certain it was spider-free, she took the web from the stick, rolled it into a ball, and placed it in her rucksack with the feathers, the root, and the tin of brimstone.
She had the Elemental Rose.
They camped that night at High Rocks, and the next morning, Sally woke before the sun had broken over the mountains. She started the fire and had a hash of wild tubers sizzling in the skillet as Dmitry and Nel got up from their blankets. Dmitry wandered off to refill the waterskins. Nel sipped at a tin cup of tea and asked, “I’ve been puzzling over this Elemental Rose of yours. I’m still not sure why you think it will help you discover your father’s whereabouts.”
Sally placed the breakfast to the side of the coals to stay warm until Dmitry returned. “Well, that’s not really what I think it will do. Not directly anyway.”
Nel’s wooly white brows lowered. “What do you mean?”
Sally took the Incunabula from her rucksack and walked over to Nel, flipping through the pages until she found the Verse of the Lost. “It’s this poem.”
Nel took the book from her and turned it around. Sally backed a step away as he read it, her heart pounding. Nel squinted as his gaze moved down the page. When he at last looked up, he asked, “What does this mean?”
Sally began with the line about losing the potent passage. As she made her way through the explanation, Nel’s eyes grew wide and fearful.
“Let me just try, Mister Nel.”
Nel frowned. “My powers are gone, never to return. With the loss of my leg, the powers were stripped from me.”
“The Elemental Rose will give you back your powers,” Sally said. “That’s what it does. It restores things that are lost—”
Dmitry returned and dropped the waterskins. “Ah! I’m starving. Can we eat?”
Nel pulled his gaze from Sally. “Yes, help yourself, son.”
Dmitry took out the tin plates and flicked the hash with his knife onto the plates. Handing them around, he began devouring his breakfast with a pleasant smile on his face, but Nel and Sally did not eat. As Dmitry noticed, he cocked his head curiously.
Sally whispered to Nel. “Will you at least try?”
Nel picked distractedly at his plate.
“Try what?” Dmitry asked. He looked back and forth between Sally and Nel.
“We need to get to Mother Salagi’s,” Nel said. “We’ve wasted enough time already on this journey.”
After covering the fire, they cleaned the campsite and set off toward the Clingman’s Dome. The wind snapping atop the mountain was cool, but the bright sun warmed their skin. Dmitry led them off the ridge and through a hollow, where the woods were darker and the air moist.
“I bet we’ll reach Mattias over at Bee Gum by nightfall,” Dmitry said. “And then it’s just a half-day journey further.”
The ground beneath their feet had the crunch of the last frost of the season. Sally trudged along behind Nel and Dmitry with tears fighting to rise.
By midday they were passing through a thick hedge of rhododendron when they came upon a small pool. It was trapped in a natural dam of rocks, before splashing over into a waterfall to form a stream running down the mountainside.
“Let’s lunch here,” Dmitry said. “Hand me your canteens and I’ll fill them down in that pool.”
After Dmitry left, Nel settled on a log. Sally took out the biscuits and sliced ham from her rucksack and began making sandwiches.
“Sally,” Nel said.
She looked up. Her eyes met Nel’s, and within those enormous moonlike orbs she saw his expression clouded with sadness.
The Wolf Tree Page 8