“Yeah, I suppose,” said Evercloud, and then changing the subject. “So anyway, there’s still the issue of this bog.”
“You had to bring that back up, didn’t you?”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
“And you still don’t want to talk to the whispers?”
“I don’t know, maybe we should give it a try.”
“No, don’t talk to them,” came a small voice. “They’ve got nothing good to say; very negative.”
Evercloud and Riverpaw spun their heads to see a small white mouse, sitting upon a root of the fallen tree.
“Are you?” began Evercloud.
“Yes, I am,” said the mouse. “And no, you are not.” Evercloud and Riverpaw looked at each other in confusion. The mouse scurried from the tree root and came to a stop on Evercloud’s lap. The mouse sighed in frustration. “I am,” he continued, “the same mouse that you met in the woods. And no, you are not doing a very good job of getting what needs to be gotten.”
“Can you help us?” asked Riverpaw.
“And what do you think that I am doing right now?”
“So you’ll show us the way then, to find the apple and the hammer?” asked Evercloud.
The mouse left Evercloud’s lap and ran up Riverpaw’s arm, finally stopping on the top of his head. “Where are your brains?” asked the mouse, rapping his tiny mouse fist against Riverpaw’s skull. “Hello, anybody in there.”
Riverpaw frowned. “Are you going to help us or insult us?”
“I believe,” said the mouse with an air of superiority, “that I am currently doing both.”
Evercloud stood up from the tree and looked at the mouse. “All right mouse, where is the Tree of Death and the Witch’s Throne?”
“How should I know?” said the mouse indignantly. “I don’t live in this filthy place.”
“No one lives in this filthy place,” muttered Evercloud.
“That,” said the mouse, “is not true.”
A vulture screeched in the distance and the mouse perked his ears. “Well, it’s time that I be off or it’s time that I be dinner. Glad to see that you’re not dead yet, and good luck, you’re going to need it.” And with that, the mouse scurried into a hole in the dead tree and disappeared.
“You know,” said Riverpaw, turning to Evercloud, “I don’t really like that mouse.”
But Evercloud was not paying attention to him. He was deep in thought. Then, suddenly, his eyes brightened. “That’s it. I can’t believe we didn’t think of this.”
“What?” said Riverpaw.
“I’m a human and you’re a bear and we talk to each other, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And that mouse can talk to us, right?”
“Yeah,” said Riverpaw, squinting his eyes, not really knowing where Evercloud was going with his point.
“So, we should be able to talk to any other creature with the brains to do so.”
“Yes, yes,” hurried Riverpaw. “But what’s your point?”
“The vulture,” said Evercloud.
Comprehension broke across Riverpaw’s face. “The vulture.”
Without another word, they began walking in the direction of the last heard screech, hoping they had figured out the puzzle of Oldham’s Bog.
• • •
“Hey,” called Riverpaw. “You there. Vulture.” The vulture stuck his wrinkly neck out and peered down at Riverpaw and Evercloud. He looked from one of them to the other and ruffled his feathers, retracting his neck and deciding to ignore them. “I said, hey, you,” continued Riverpaw. “We want to talk to you.”
The vulture again turned his gaze to Riverpaw, and again made no reply. He then looked at Evercloud with a raised brow and called out:
“Human, your bear is talking. Why is your bear talking?”
“He can do that,” answered Evercloud.
“He can?” returned the bird.
“Yes, I can,” answered Riverpaw.
“Wow,” said the bird. “That’s a new one.”
“I can also rip your stupid head off,” Riverpaw muttered under his breath. Evercloud called back up to the bird.
“We would like to ask you a few questions.”
“Go ahead, I’m not going anywhere.”
“We wanted to know if you could tell us how to find the Tree of Death?”
The large black bird flew down from its perch, high in the dead tree and landed on a branch, just above Riverpaw’s head.
“I knew it. I knew it,” said the vulture, shaking its head. “The moment I saw you, I knew you looked like one of those fools, searching for the Tree of Death. I was laughing to myself and thinking that. You know why they call it the Tree of Death, don’t you?”
“Because its fruit is poisonous,” said Evercloud.
“Yeeesss,” replied the bird. “So why in the world would you want to find it?”
“That’s not your business,” shot Riverpaw. “Now can you tell us how to get there or not?”
“Look here, bear,” said the vulture. “Up until a few minutes ago, you didn’t even know how to talk. So don’t get chippy with me.”
Riverpaw growled at the bird.
“Please,” began Evercloud, trying to keep the conversation on track. “It’s very important that we find it. Will you help us?”
“I don’t see why not,” said the bird. “But what’s in it for me?”
Evercloud turned to Riverpaw at a loss. They didn’t have much of anything to offer the bird. They only carried with them the bare essentials for their survival. Evercloud took his pack off and began to rummage through it, but just as he expected, there was nothing that they could afford to give up. Evercloud turned back to the bird empty handed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We have nothing to give.”
“Everyone’s got something to give,” said the bird. “How about a story. It gets pretty lonely out here, you know. I’d enjoy a good story if you’ve got one.”
So Evercloud began to tell the only story that he knew, his own. He told the vulture of the Kingdom and the Ancients and the Great Tyrant, and then he began with the quest. He told the vulture of buffalo hunting and his trip into the village of Hendrick. At that point, Riverpaw added in an account of the standoff with the village officers. Evercloud told of the Floyd family, with no short description of the beautiful Iolana. He told of the battle with the giant blue crab and of Padre Esteban and the test, and then of the dark passageway and the metal statue. Once he had worked his way up to the present, he began to make up the rest of the story. He told of the noble vulture, who had helped Evercloud and Riverpaw find the items that they needed, and how they retuned to the White Mountains to free Tenturo. He told of how they had killed the evil guardians with the apple from the Tree of Death and everyone lived happily ever after. And of course, in the end, Evercloud got the girl.
“What a story,” said the vulture, once Evercloud had finished. “However, it seems to me that the noble vulture was the real hero. He should have got the girl in the end.”
“Uh, yeah,” said Evercloud. “I’ll be sure to change that part in future telling.”
“Well then,” smiled the vulture. “I suppose I owe you my help. I’ll show you to the Tree of Death. I’ll fly up in the sky and you just follow me on the ground. We’ll be there in no time.”
“Thank you,” said Evercloud.
The vulture turned around on his branch and spread his wings, preparing to take flight. “Oh and by the way,” he said, “you may also want to consider changing that Riverpaw character. He came off like a real dolt.” With that, the bird leapt into the air.
Riverpaw turned to Evercloud. “Let me kill him, Evercloud. Please, let me kill him.”
“We need him.”
“Fine,” grumbled Riverpaw, and the two travelers began to follow the vulture as he soared above their heads.
They walked for no more than fifteen minutes before they started noticing changes in the bog
. The fog began to clear and they were soon able to see further than they had since entering Oldham’s Bog. In fact, it cleared so much that they were actually able to see the night sky and all the stars that filled it. Not only were they able to see the clear sky, but also the bog itself seemed to benefit, and they began to see trees that were actually alive. No longer was their bark black, but instead a light tan color. The neon green moss still clung to everything but it was no longer the only green to be seen. The living trees had leaves, just as vivid, and they rustled lightly in the breeze.
“This is almost pleasant,” observed Riverpaw.
It was now difficult to see the vulture against the stars, but every once in a while he would give a screech so they knew where he was. Evercloud even noticed that the trees they were passing were starting to bare fruit.
“It’s a good thing we have a guide,” he said. “We’d never know which one of these apple trees was the right one.”
“Actually,” said Riverpaw, and gestured for Evercloud to look ahead. “I don’t think there would have been any doubt.”
Evercloud scanned the horizon and saw the most beautiful apple tree he had ever seen in his life. It radiated ahead of them as if it were made of light. As they got closer to it, they noticed that its leaves seemed to tinkle brightly in the wind as if they were made of glass or metal. The tree was so bright that they couldn’t believe it was real. Evercloud walked up and plucked an apple from the branches. It was warm to the touch as if it were alive in his hand. Evercloud felt more as if he were holding a heart than a piece of fruit.
“I never would have thought that a tree of death would look more like a tree of life,” said Riverpaw.
“That’s what it wants you to think,” said the vulture, landing on the ground next to the two travelers. “But believe me when I say that one bite out of that apple and you’ll be dead before it falls to the ground.”
Evercloud opened his pack and stuffed the apple deep inside.
“Well, I suppose that you’ll be leaving now, eh,” the vulture said sullenly.
“Actually,” said Evercloud. “We would like to ask another favor of you.” The vulture’s eyes lit up, happy to be able to retain his company for a while longer. “We need to be taken to the Witch’s Throne.”
The vulture’s beak dropped and he began to shake his head violently. “No, no, no, no, no. I won’t do that. Don’t ask for that. What is wrong with the two of you? Taken to the Witch’s Throne.” The vulture spat on the ground in disgust.
“Please,” begged Evercloud. “You must. We’ll do whatever you ask of us.”
“All I want is to not do that.”
“Please. We have to. It’s our mission.”
“I can’t. I can’t.” Now the vulture was begging Evercloud. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You can’t know what you’re asking.”
Evercloud bent down to look at the creature. “Do you remember that story I told you, with the noble vulture?” The vulture nodded his head. “Sometimes we have to do things that are frightening. But we have to be brave, or else there will never be a happy ending. We must be taken to the Witch’s Throne. It is the only way. Can you be brave, vulture? Can you do this for us?”
The vulture bowed his head to the ground. “All right,” he said. “If that’s really what you want.”
“It is.”
The vulture turned around and spread his wings. “And I was just beginning to like the two of you.” The vulture flew into the air and Riverpaw and Evercloud watched him, ready to follow once again. But suddenly, the vulture stopped at about twenty feet in the air and began screaming.
“INTRUDERS!” he screamed into the air. “THE BEAR! THE HUMAN! INTRUDERS! GET THEM!”
The ground began to quake and Evercloud and Riverpaw almost lost their balance. Evercloud looked at Riverpaw with panic in his eyes. “What have we done?”
“Quickly, get on my back,” said Riverpaw.
As Evercloud climbed aboard, long fibrous tendrils began to reach out of the bog. Thick and vine like, they wove along the surface of the water toward them.
“RUN!” screamed Evercloud.
Riverpaw splashed through the bog as fast as his legs could carry them. As if commanded by some forgotten evil, the vines came closer to them, green with moss and bloated with bog water. They lashed out, narrowly missing Riverpaw’s heels as he flew by in panic.
“I told you!” cried the vulture. “I told you I didn’t want to do it! You stupid creatures! I told you!”
More and more giant vines rose from the wet blackness. Riverpaw ran with every ounce of energy he had, but it was of no use. The vines closed around them, wrapping around their extremities; closing around their throats. They struggled with madness to free themselves, but the vines held tight, dragging them down until they disappeared underneath the freezing waters of Oldham’s Bog.
Leverage
The forest was dark by the time he had reached the path that led to the Floyd’s cave. He preferred the night. There always seemed to be less interference at night. What deviants must these be, to live inside of a cave, he thought, so afraid that the world might see the evil inside of them. He shook his head. Disappointment did not begin to describe his feelings. It had been disappointment for a while, near the beginning, when he had felt a yearning to help or change people. That had been very naive of him, very naive indeed. There was no changing these people who, in their weakness, had allowed evil to soil and corrupt their hearts. The only help that he could provide them was to end them, to destroy them. In that way, disappointment had turned to pity, had turned to monotony, had turned to frustration, had turned to disgust. As he walked along the forest path toward inevitability, that was the predominant feeling. Total revulsion.
• • •
Nikolas Floyd hovered over the bubbling cauldron of stew, letting the steam hit him full in the face. He inhaled the wonderful smell of boiling meat and vegetables, savoring it like a precious thing. He exhaled and smiled.
“It’s the simple things,” he said. “The older I get, the better they are. Simple things.” His mouth watered and he dipped the ladle in, drawing out a chunk of boar and carrot with the broth. He blew upon it to cool it, and then he sipped the broth. “Delicious.” He dumped the rest of the contents of the ladle into his mouth and chewed. He lifted an eyebrow as he did so, his curiosity taking hold. “You sure this is boar meat?” he asked Iolana as she sat, sewing up a ripped shirt.
“Yes,” she replied.
Nikolas tilted his head slightly and continued to chew. “Something’s not normal. Different.”
“That’s nice,” said Iolana.
Nikolas looked at her, realizing that she was not paying attention to anything that he had been saying. “Thinking about them again, aren’t ya?”
“Sorry,” said Iolana, putting down the needle. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry,” said Nikolas, putting the ladle down. “They are the ones.” He walked over and sat down next to Iolana, placing a fatherly arm around her shoulders. “Do you have doubts?”
“No,” said Iolana. “I know they are the ones. I could see it when I looked into Evercloud’s eyes.”
“Then what’s the worry?”
“What if they find out, father? What if they figure out that the paw print was a lie and that the feather is a fake? They will leave, won’t they? Their faith will be broken.”
“Iolana,” said Nikolas in a calming voice. “The only way they will ever figure that out is if they really do find Tenturo. And then what will it matter? The lies will have been a means to an end, and the end will be good. Like tricking a child into taking its medicine. Ben and Tomas will never tell them, unless they find the Ancient.”
“I know. I shouldn’t worry.”
“Oh, you should worry,” came the voice of a man who had suddenly appeared in the room. “You should worry your little heart out.”
Nikolas and Iolana got up as quickly as they c
ould and Nikolas put his frail body between Iolana and the intruder.
“What do you want? Who are you?” yelled Nikolas.
“I’m looking for Ben Floyd and Tomas Floyd. Where are they?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” shot Nikolas. “I’ve never heard of them.”
The intruder took a step toward them. “Do not lie to me, old man. I do not appreciate it. Lie to me again and I will kill you in the most inefficient way that I can.” The intruder frowned. “And I hate inefficiency.”
“Leave us alone, you evil man,” yelled Iolana.
“How dare you call me evil.” The intruder clenched his jaw and continued to close in upon them. “Tell me where they are,” he said through his teeth.
“Never,” cried Iolana.
The intruder grabbed at Nikolas, catching him by the shoulder. He ripped the old man away from Iolana and put his hands around Nikolas’ throat.
“Tell me or he dies.”
“Run, Iolana,” choked Nikolas, clutching at the hands around his throat.
Iolana did as she was told and ran out of the cave and into the forest as fast as she could. A voice crept inside of the intruder’s head and whispered to him. Kill the old man. Retrieve the girl. The intruder lifted Nikolas off of his feet and threw him at the wall of the cave. His head thudded loudly as it impacted against the rock and he fell to the floor, dead. Without a moment of hesitation, the intruder ran after Iolana. Take the girl, said the voice. We’ll use her as leverage.
Iolana ran through the forest as fast as she could, thorns and brush tearing at her legs. Tears streamed from her eyes and blurred her vision. Father, she thought. Her heart ached as she pictured that man’s hands around her father’s throat. She hated herself for running. She hated every step that she took away from him. But she didn’t stop running. She couldn’t stop running. They had been over this, time after time, Ben and Tomas and her father, warning her that something like this might happen. Warning her that if the wrong people found out about their mission that they would try to stop them. Every time, they had told her the same thing. Run. No matter what. Run. So she did what they had asked, even though it killed her inside.
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