by Maggie Platt
“A M . . . Master?” Calix confirmed in awe.
“Yes,” Damien said with a warm smile and kind eyes. “A Master. You could be great. Not as great as me, but great all the same because you see the importance in revering me above all else. You are very wise beyond your years. You will begin with simple tasks. If you complete them as well as I suspect you will, you will be a Master before you turn twenty.”
Calix was a Master by the time he was eighteen. Through the intense tutoring of some slightly older Masters of Adoration and Perfection, Calix became a star pupil. He relished every task and assignment, deriving unspeakable joy from the many “well done” compliments he received from King Damien and other important officials.
He learned very quickly that he had much more command over women than men. Men weren’t so easily drawn under his influence. He would try and try to convince them that they should worship the crown, and eventually it might work. But one smile, one word in the direction of a woman, and he had her hooked.
Women tended to fall in love with him. There was no other way to say it. His dashing smile, his smooth words, and his talent for flattery were all weapons in his arsenal. When a woman fell under his spell, she tended to put her trust in the things he trusted. She would enjoy the things he enjoyed, seek out the things he sought. Or at least she would pretend to, becoming the image of the woman she believed he would want. Once she was sufficiently pathetic, it was time to abruptly cut off his attentions. She would wildly cling to anything that might win him back, including fully worshipping his idol, King Damien. Little did these women know that each move was calculated and how closely they always followed his script.
Ever since this discovery, he had spent a great deal of time honing his skills in both Control and Pleasure. He saw them as closely linked to his mastery of Adoration. Control them. Teach them to desire him. And soon they would be loyal to him, which was, in reality, one step away from adoration of the king.
He watched the Adians playing in the water and thought about Tovi. She was undeniably beautiful. He smirked as he thought about his task. Not only would it be easy to ensnare her with a few of his smiles, but it could also be enjoyable. It had been a long time since he had been attracted to a woman. The girls on the mountain were just his playthings. Since discovering Tovi, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss her and see the look of adoration swell in her eyes.
The bough on which he stood suddenly dipped. Calix tensed like a startled animal, and his eyes locked on Eryx coming toward him. The sounds from the water below had masked his competition’s approach. Calix bolted, making his way to the forest floor as quickly as possible. He could run much faster on solid ground. Eryx chased him through the woods, his thundering footfalls booming ever closer behind him. They tromped on ferns and whipped through tall grasses for what seemed like ages before finally coming out near the ridge. Eryx threw himself forward and tackled Calix to the ground. They grappled for a few seconds before Eryx’s fist connected with Calix’s nose. Black blood poured out, and Calix’s concern over his appearance distracted him from his fight and flight.
As he pinched his nose and checked for broken places, his adversary stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “Leave her alone. She’s mine.”
“And why would I do that?” Calix responded nonchalantly, not bothering to look up.
“Like I already said: She’s mine.”
“I serve His Majesty, King Damien,” Calix said with reverence. “I obey his orders, not yours.”
“Find someone else to serve your purposes. She’s mine. She’s my target. She has been the whole time.”
“Oh really?” Calix finally glanced up. He had stopped the flow of blood, but there were dark stains down the front of his shirt and the places on his sleeve that he had used to mop his face. “So why haven’t you spoken to her yet? I’ve watched you, Eryx. You’ve never once attempted to attract her attention. You’ve never even shown yourself to her. How do you plan on marking the girl if you just sit in the trees all day? Don’t forget that I’m a Master of Adoration. I can see it in your eyes, Eryx. I recognized it weeks ago, as soon as you shaved your head. You are perfectly content pretending to scout her, while in reality you are trying to protect her.”
Eryx’s chest heaved, and his hands clenched into fists.
Calix looked at them and laughed. “Are you going to hit me again?”
Eryx glared at him for a moment. Whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind remained masked. Without warning, Eryx slammed his fist into Calix’s stomach. Calix fell to his knees and retched. Black sludge spewed from his mouth and pooled on the ground between his hands. By the time he was done vomiting, Eryx was gone.
Calix rolled onto his back, the warm grass soothing and fragrant. All of this will be worth it one day, he thought while looking at the blue sky. When he won the challenge and pleased His Majesty, all of this would be worth it.
He gritted his teeth and rose to his feet. Looking at the position of the sun, he knew there was still plenty of day left. No need to head back toward the mountain yet. He moved swiftly through the woods, back the way he had been chased. Nearing the river, he climbed into the trees, mindful of his sore stomach and throbbing nose. He made a mental note that Eryx deserved retribution.
He crept from tree to tree until he was close enough to see the antics still going strong in the water. He spotted Silas, still enjoying the afternoon with the others. Good. His way was clear to collect a bit more information.
Still splattered with black sludge from his run-in with Eryx, he climbed higher and travelled deeper into the canopy. He skulked outside of Silas’ cottage, and when he was sure no one was near, he sneaked inside.
The house was a mess. Brushes, palettes, and jars of paint covered the counters, chairs, and floor. But what really caught his attention was the floor-to-ceiling mural that covered every inch of the walls—fascinating. It reminded him of another mural—the mural in the palace.
Calix began searching through the images, careful not to disturb anything as he walked along the edge of the room. All he wanted was information on what this man was up to. In all his time scouting the Adians, Silas had proven the most interesting. No family and no stories of where he had come from. He was always out visiting other Adians or holed up in this house, working on his painting. Calix was particularly curious about him because he spent so much time with Tovi. What, exactly, was the nature of their relationship?
He stopped in front of one scene in the mural. It looked finished, and he peered closely at the details. It was a painting of an enormously fat tree almost entirely covered in vines and large yellow flowers. There were little orange, purple, and pink dots surrounding it, and he couldn’t quite decipher what they were meant to be.
He had seen a tree just like this in the forest that morning. He ticked through some facts he knew about the village and its inhabitants. His eyes darted from the tree scene to others along the wall. He thought about the mural in the palace.
Some pieces began to click in his mind, forming a picture he hadn’t expected.
CHAPTER 7
With the first golden rays of sunset glimmering through the willow leaves, Tovi and Ganya took their usual seats in the rocking chairs on the front porch. They rocked in tandem, both deep in thought.
Tovi glanced at Ganya—mother, grandmother, and guardian all wrapped into this one wonderful woman. She wished she could go back in time and see Ganya and Avi in their prime. They did not have a sweet, romantic love story. Instead, their relationship blossomed in a time of great danger and violence. It was hard to see these kind, elderly grandparents as the fierce rebels who had to brave such horrors.
Both Avi and Ganya were born on Mount Damien, then known as Mount Lemuel, but they never met as children. They were the last generation to know the mountain as peaceful, green, and jubilant. The brown heart outlines appeared in everyone’s palm when Avi was about twenty years old and Ganya closing in on twenty-on
e. It was one of Damien’s first creations as an apprentice to the king, a symbol that showed you belonged to Adwin. Avi once told Tovi that this was the first sign of things to come. What seemed innocent on the outside was really a dark clue to Damien’s obsession with detecting each person’s loyalty.
When Damien began his campaigns and recruitment, preaching his ideas of prosperity and efficiency, Avi and Ganya were part of the few who were not swayed. They remained loyal to Adwin, even as it became perilous to be so. Damien outlawed the very heart in the palm that he had created, teaching the masses that the heart would disappear only when one acknowledged that he was the true king of the mountain. He imprisoned anyone who showed the symbol. Gloves became a necessity. There was an unspoken understanding on the mountain: anyone who valued his life pretended that gloves were in fashion. No one spoke of the heart beneath.
The number of Adwin’s followers continued to shrink, and soon they were meeting in secret for support and to discuss strategy. Avi and Ganya met at one of these meetings and were first attracted to each other’s minds. Just a few months later, Adwin left the mountain. Avi followed him, as did Ganya. Neither knew that the other had done so. They came face to face in the brand new land of Adia, thrilled but not surprised to discover that the other had the same courage and loyalty to Adwin.
They spent most of their adult lives helping refugees settle into the valley. It was difficult but rewarding work, especially as time went on and the people they helped had less and less knowledge of Adwin. Then, as their generation aged, the refugees stopped coming. The ones who knew Adwin but had become loyal to Damien would never leave the mountain. The rest of the people were too young to know any difference, so they stayed above the cloud, working in Damien’s kingdom. It was around this time that tiny Tali and Tovi arrived in the night.
Ganya broke the silence after several minutes of rocking. “You seem to be thinking rather hard, Tovi. What is on your mind?”
Ganya already had so much to worry about—Tali’s disappearance and Avi’s declining health. Would it really do any good to tell her the blanket had been stolen?
Tovi didn’t answer and stared at her own hands. She traced the heart in her palm with distracted fingers. Finally looking up, she asked, “Why can’t I find him, Ganya? Where is Adwin? Why won’t any of you tell me where to look?”
“What have I always told you?”
“That I will know where to look when I’m ready,” she answered dully.
“That’s right,” Ganya replied, turning her head to look at the perplexed young woman. “But I’m sure that doesn’t satisfy you.”
Tovi shook her head.
“You aren’t the only one with this struggle, although I fear you often feel alone. There are others. I had a cousin who was convinced that Adwin didn’t exist at all, that he couldn’t find him because he was nothing more than a fable.”
Tovi shifted guiltily in her seat and wondered how much Ganya suspected. “What changed his mind?”
“It wasn’t about changing his mind. It was about changing his heart. He had closed himself from many of the things that brought him joy and peace, like his love for exploring the woods or sitting quietly by the river in the early morning, which are gifts straight from Adwin’s heart. Once my cousin allowed himself to experience those things again, it wasn’t long before he encountered Adwin. But I’m afraid that’s where it becomes a little different with you.”
“What do you mean?”
Ganya considered her words carefully, pursing her lips and not bothering to hide her hesitation. After a deep sigh, she said, “I am afraid, my dear, that you might want to find Adwin for all the wrong reasons.”
Tovi narrowed her eyes. “And what reasons are those?”
Ganya was unfazed by Tovi’s flared temper. “Sweetheart, you want to find Adwin so you can point your finger in his face and tell him you hate him.”
Tovi opened her mouth to argue but closed it when she realized Ganya was right. She exhaled forcefully.
Ganya smiled. “I’m sure he is rather looking forward to that confrontation. Nonetheless, he doesn’t make a business of appearing to people on their preferred timetable. He has one of his own.” Ganya reached over and held Tovi’s hands between her own. “Tovi, if you want to find him, talk to him. Even if you feel silly for talking to the air around you. Yell at him. Say nasty words if you need to. He will hear you, and he will understand. And when you are ready, you will find him. Well, really he will find you.”
Oh, how she would love to yell at him. To tell him how she hated him so! To declare that he was evil for letting her brother disappear, terrible for making her grow up without her parents. She heard a weak cough through the window. Ganya looked toward the house, her eyes growing sad. “Tovi, dear, I’m afraid we’re nearing the end.”
“Don’t say that!” Tovi cried, standing and facing Ganya with terror in her eyes.
Tovi could only remember the death of one person, Ganya’s brother, who died three years before. The family gathered around to say their goodbyes, and when the time came, he had grown faint and then disappeared completely. To Tovi, this seemed horribly sad, mysteriously uncertain, and at least a little bit scary.
Now that it was Avi who faced this fate, there were so many things she wanted to know. “What will happen to him?” she asked.
“That is something that none of us understand. All we know is that when we fade, there is a great adventure waiting for us wherever it is that we reappear.”
“You’ve told me that you can ask Adwin anything, and he will tell you the truth. Ask him what will happen to Avi.”
“I have.”
“Well, what did he say?” Tovi asked impatiently.
“That I have to wait and trust him. He always answers honestly, even if it’s not the kind of answer we want.”
Another cough rattled from the bedroom. Tovi moved toward it, but Ganya reached out to grip Tovi’s arm. “I have been trying to prepare you over the last several weeks, but I must put it very bluntly now. Avi does not have much longer with us. I don’t mean years. Maybe not even months or weeks. Go in there and have a nice chat with him. Savor these moments and the words that you share. There might not be many more.”
Tovi had not taken the time to ready herself for life without Avi. Her mind flashed to scenes of sitting by his side as he whittled, of splashing through creeks as they chased fish, of long walks when they seemed to talk of nothing and everything at the same time. She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat.
He was the closest thing she had ever had to a father or grandfather. She adored this man far more than she had ever been able to admit. She had been a surly child, but Avi’s love was stubborn. He refused to be shut out of her life, and this meant more to Tovi than she could ever say.
Tovi knocked softly on the door as she entered the dimly lit bedroom. The curtains were pulled over the windows, with just enough light coming through for Tovi to see Avi’s shrinking outline.
“Is that my baby girl?” the weak and crackly voice asked, somehow managing to sound cheerful.
She carefully sat on the edge of the bed near his feet. “Yes, Avi, it’s me.” She reached out to hold his hands and could almost feel the strength draining out. She rubbed his hands softly, trying to memorize every line and knuckle and nuance. He struggled to keep his eyes open.
He lightly squeezed Tovi’s fingers. When he gathered enough strength to speak again, he slowly lifted his eyelids. “I love you very much, Tovi. I know we’re not blood, but I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else for a daughter. Not anyone.”
Her emotions churned, and a tear splashed onto her hand. She knew that opening her mouth would mean surrender to the tide of misery that was building inside, so she quietly leaned down to kiss his sunken cheek.
“Sweet pea, why do you look so sad?”
Her voice cracking every few syllables, she hesitantly responded, “It sounds like you are saying goodbye.”
He sigh
ed and tried to smile. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s not time for me to go quite yet, but it will be soon. There is something I want you to do for me.”
“Anything. What is it?”
“Please don’t give up on Adwin. He’s out there. He is above and beside and within. You will find him. I love you, Tovi.”
She patted his hand again and composed herself long enough to say, “I love you, too, Avi.”
Tovi stood and walked out, barely holding in her emotions and closing the door softly behind her. She turned to Ganya, and when their eyes met, the weeping began. Grief erupted out of Tovi like a boiling overflow. Ganya reached out, but Tovi pushed her away.
Her desire to escape her despair was overwhelming. It was as though there was an enraged animal locked inside her chest, desperate to be free of its bindings. She couldn’t explain it. She just had to run.
She sprinted out the door and tore along thick branches and down rope ladders. She sped past neighbors who called out to her, ignoring their worried questions. The muscles in her legs pumped faster and faster as she reached the hard ground. She kept going.
She ran, the air whistling in her ears and her breath stinging her overworked lungs. Her eyes stared straight ahead into the graying evening, not focused on any one thing. She wasn’t aware of anything around her, except the oppressive need to run. To get away.
She was almost to the ridge before her mind registered anything except the sound of the wind. Then, another set of thumping footfalls was the first sensation to occur to her since leaving the house.
She slowed her pace and turned, gasping sharply when she realized she wasn’t alone. She came to an abrupt halt.
“How long have you . . . ?” she asked, searching for breath.
“I’ve been with you the whole time,” Silas answered, hardly winded. He combed his fingers through his light brown hair, as the setting sun reflected off the golden streaks.