by K M McGuire
“We’ll be out,” called Andar, finally pulling himself from the bed. He went through his bag and found similar clothes to Voden. When he was finally dressed, he turned to his friend. “Best bring that machine you got from Koruza. I think Razar would be more equipped to teach you than that scientist.” He patted Voden on the back as Voden grabbed the brazen crossbow and searched for the bolts and canisters. He held the items in his arms and realized the components were rather cumbersome to carry.
“Would you like something for all of that?” Razar asked, smiling at Voden’s struggle. Voden had not noticed the door open and nearly dropped everything when he heard Razar’s deep growling voice.
“Uh, yeah, that would be helpful, thanks,” he responded timidly. Razar nodded and thumped down the stairs. A few awkward moments passed before he returned with a small satchel for the bow. It was lined with pockets for the rest of the items. “Thank you,” he said, as he began to organize the contents.
“That’s quite a device,” Razar proclaimed, leaning against the door. His mahogany eyes glittered with the weapon’s reflection. “I’ll have to see if we can fashion a better carrier. Did you make it?”
“No,” Voden said, and regretted it immediately, watching the excitement leave Razar’s eyes. Voden looked at the bow, wishing he had tried to use it more, but he feared having to replace the bolts that would go missing. He felt he was wasting the gift, and it made his heart heavy. “An engineer from back home named Koruza wanted me to have it so I could test it on our journey. Andar got stuck with his sword so he felt it fair…” he trailed off, trying not to sound jealous. The silvery polygons seemed to breathe at being mentioned, drawing Razar’s attention.
“Yes,” Razar mumbled quietly, soaking in the steely shapes entwined on Andar’s arm. A tight nudge from the corner of Razar’s mouth perked up, but Razar kept himself in check. “Andar told me a bit about that weapon. It seems to be a convenient curse.” A sense of longing floated in the glaze over his eyes. He snapped his attention back to Voden. “So, have you used your toy much?” he asked, pointing his crossed elbow towards Voden’s new bag.
Voden lifted the bag and stared at it. “This? No, sadly, I haven’t had much time to sit down with it. Time got the best of me. I almost forgot I had it.”
“Well, I think we can amend that,” Razar assured him. “Come on, we should go.” He beckoned them through the hallway and down the stairs. Voden placed his hands along the walls, touching the smooth, almost wavy surface, feeling the ripples of the rings as his fingers brushed along them.
The sun cast amber beams through the arched windows, and the color of the wood nearly glowed with warmth. Voden swore the tree groaned with satisfaction, as though it too was waking up for the day. The living room was quiet, with Vec splayed across the couch, hand firmly glued to his face. Voden turned to the dining room and caught sight of Yael finishing her sweet bread. Vec let out a distressed groan of pain but did not move. The sun pelted Vec square in the face, burning at the hand covering his eyes.
“What’s the matter with him?” Andar asked, as Yael greeted them.
“Vec?” she asked, hugging Voden. Andar nodded. “I’m pretty sure he was out at the tavern last night. He must have underestimated the moss beer.”
“It doesn’t even make sense!” groaned Vec. They all turned, astonished he was able to speak. “I don’t know how it tastes so good!” Andar shook his head. Vec nearly slid off the couch, trying to cope with his throbbing headache. The sky gave him no sympathy, either. The birds squealed as if they were laughing through the window.
“Yael, I need you to look after the shop for the next few days,” Razar said. She listened intently and nodded, and Voden was amazed at how much she trusted him. “I’ll be taking Voden and Andar to the training fields. Have Vec help you. It seems he needs something to keep him busy and out of trouble.”
“Yes, Father,” she said promptly.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Razar said. “You know how sneaky some of these people can be.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“I know you know,” Razar said kindly, placing his hand on his daughter’s cheek. He showed, in that moment, how he recognized her intelligence and did his best to treat her as an adult, even though she hadn’t been one for all that long. His eyes drew anchor from a sea of calming compassion, and with his smile, he accepted her coming into her own. In Razar’s eyes, Voden could see the reflection, the boat that carried Yael across that sea, allowing her to sail as she must, and his compassion waved to her from the shore. Razar brought himself back to words. “I only want to make sure you’re safe.”
She smiled and hugged him. Razar then ushered Voden and Andar to the door. But it was not the same door Voden had first entered through. Instead, it was one just behind the staircase, which Voden had not noticed. It opened into a foyer with another staircase leading up the trunk, and another door beside it.
“Bye, Voden and Andar,” Yael waved. “I’ll see you when you return.”
“Of course.” Voden smiled meekly. “Later, Vec!”
Vec gave an annoyed moan as they exited the tree and closed the door. Razar opened the next door to the cool morning and a small balcony that led to the bridge of branches. It was striking to see it up close; the beamlike branch flattened, with the grain whirling across it. The balcony extruding from the tree had the same wooden spindles as the bridge, the smaller branches twirled around one another and knotted themselves on top of the railing. From those knots, the tiny branches split apart and then wove back into another set of spindles, seeming to have endless connections across the city.
A few leaves sprouted from the outlying branches, fluttering like defiant flags, hinting at the fact that not all of nature could be controlled. Voden felt his nerves building, realizing they were going to cross the bridges, and though he knew they must be stable, he still worried. The path of branches was nearly devoid of bark, only the fragments that cupped the ridge of the bridge remained. The bridge had room for four people next to each other, and it appeared that this specific bridge was one of the smaller ones. Razar began to cross it.
Voden scuttled behind him and Andar. The carriages below clattered along the road, their dull echoes cutting through the morning mist. Andar seemed not to mind the bridge as much as Voden, walking firmly beside Razar and starting up a conversation. Voden tuned them out, more interested in the city. He spotted a few armored men wearing bright blue cloaks, clearly different from the guards at the main gate. He wondered what part of the military they belonged to. They marched up the road, fading into the heavy fog.
Voden’s eyes would not stay put as they traveled further through the network of trees, and the branches steepled over the bridges, holding up the branches so they wouldn’t hit travelers along the corridor. They made it to the next balcony where more bridges converged. The flaring wooden balcony was adorned with what appeared to be a giant knot, beaten into submission to keep the balcony flat. They continued along the bridges with hardly a thought, taking the third bridge from where they came from. They went from tree to tree rather quickly, and Voden began to see businesses popping up in the treetops. He knew they were coming closer to the Eternal Tree because the bridges grew large and the storefronts became more ornate. The morning also grew warmer; the veil of mist yanked up like a handkerchief from the ground as more citizens began to fill the many paths.
“How do you enjoy the city so far?” Razar asked when Voden finally caught up to them.
“It’s amazing,” Voden said, eyeing the shop they were passing.
He looked at the multicolored glass bottles lining the window, as patrons wandered lazily through the door. He saw a woman sitting at a thick, wooden counter, smiling at him. Voden turned and noted a set of heads rising from out of the nearby tree. He moved closer to see a massive staircase, leading down to the center, shaped like an amphitheater. The lower section was held up by thick shoots of wood, with several doors surrounding the trunk.
He peaked inside, where he could see a few vendors further up the tree ending at the ceiling that came to a soft, rounded peak. He wondered why it rounded, suspecting it was to make sure it didn’t collapse. But the stairs ran in strange patterns inside the trunk, leading to each Vendors’ platform, as if these stairs were roots or branches.
“Yes, I would agree,” Razar smiled, placing his hand on Voden’s shoulder. Voden considered his height, now fully aware the man was a head taller. He felt the weight of Razar’s hand against his shoulder, and he was embarrassed by how feeble he felt against it. He looked at Razar’s fingers, which he was quite sure could crush his skull and were dense with callouses. “It took thousands of years to be where we are today,” he said, waving his other hand. “I suppose it would not be a modest thing to say, but I do believe this is how Zagala and the Ones Beyond intended for all the sentients to live!”
“I would think so,” Andar agreed, rubbing the polygons. Voden shook his head at the strange tick. “This is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful places I’ve been to. It seems to be a fine perk to this journey of ours!” He smiled for what seemed like the first time since they had left.
They continued on, and the bridges and balconies became more opulent. It was here Voden noticed the tiny signs hanging above the path, giving directions towards the many landmarks and districts of Septium. They followed the one that read Courtyard of Yarias.
“It is a bit unfortunate you must visit her,” Razar uttered as he gave Andar a compassionate pat on the back.
“How do you mean?” Voden asked, trying to read Razar’s brooding face.
“It’s hard to remember how sheltered you are,” Razar admitted, though his eyes were concerned. “Blossum…yes, that’s her name. She was once an honored priestess, you know? Now she’s a vicious queen. The Zemilia gave her long life, and she repays it with treason! She is the Shunned One, a plotting witch, bent on destroying Septium after she was exiled and stripped of her priesthood. The Echoing Lake, where she makes her home, is widely feared. It is a pity you cannot find another way.”
“We must,” Andar said. “What would you do if someone told you that the only way to save your daughter rested in the hands of this… witch? I can’t imagine you would turn your back from that.”
“I would always try to save her,” he whispered.
“Then I can’t think you can blame us for feeling the same for our families,” Andar stated, looking hard at Razar.
Voden could not understand how Andar always had such confidence. Nonetheless, he admired his friend’s composure.
“I know,” said Razar, slapping Andar’s back with a fierce encouragement. “It’s made me rather keen on helping you! I haven’t found many who have such vigor! I respect that greater than the greatest warriors. I wish people had vision as you do.”
Humility washed across Andar’s face, morphing to the softest display of happiness Voden had seen. The irony was, it was the most compassionate one a person could share. They walked through a large group of Tasmians, nearly losing Andar to the mix, some glancing at him like a forgotten friend. They now came to a knotty balcony overlooking a thick street below. It was nearly large enough to have six carriages side-by-side, made of the mesmerizing blue stone. The tree line ended here; the last stop before the Eternal Tree.
“There boys! Gaze upon a true symbol of strength,” Razar said provocatively.
They saw the lake shimmering underneath the tree, where the great roots curled up from the bank and bridged over the azure mirror. A massive staircase was carved into the root closest to them, leading up to an impressive knot, where they could now see the grand, golden halls glowing deep in the expansive tree. Stairs that looked like silk led up to a balcony around the bottom lip of the knot, where Voden could just make out the miniature specks of people. Windows littered the trunk as dark speckles, or amber sparks, spiraled up towards more balconies, though they were not as impressive as the main one. At the highest point, Voden could just make out an observatory trapped within the leaves, staring listlessly into the sky. The wind kissed the branches, and the leaves nearly glittered like scales.
“All right, enough stalling,” Razar said quietly, urging the boys forward.
Voden begrudgingly followed, and Razar led them towards a wide staircase that opened to the courtyard in front of the Eternal Tree. They brushed past some well-dressed individuals who marched up the stairs as they stepped onto the main road. The road sloped towards the lake and was lined with the most ancient trees. They captivated Voden’s imagination. He wondered if they kept the sky from falling on the world. The street was lined with stone stalagmites, carved with what Voden had assumed were depictions of the Yarias, and their stories wrapped around the girth of the stone. Each was fixed with a round, faceted gem, and every so often pulsed with a strange aura of speckled energy.
Voden felt a presence he could only describe as wispy, fluttering around him, and his eyes trailed to the stones, and the more he gave them attention, the more he wondered how they glowed. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was from the sun passing through the hole carved out of the stone, but he felt there was too much distracting him to linger anymore on the thought. Voden focused on the bustling of devoutly robed individuals, (he found it odd how similarly they dressed to the priests in Adetia) entering the different stone temples that filled the courtyard, tucked in the nook of the massive root of the Eternal Tree. Now they were in the throng, squeezing between the finely robed, who were eager to pay tribute to the different altars set inside the nearly immaculate temples.
The temples were laid out in a semicircle. Four were set on the fringe, while the two largest temples rested in front of those and cupped the road, pointing towards the Eternal Tree. There were vendors sitting outside the colossal doors, and each had its own beautifully sculpted statue of a male or female Yaria. Each temple had heavy tree-like pillars that held the roof, and the blue marble blocks were textured like the wake of the ocean, lapping on the shore. It was hard to see through the mass of people, which confounded Voden, but he managed to spot a fountain pooling inside the most frequented temple, with a mass of orange growths surrounding it. In front of the fountain was the altar, shaped as a kneeling, hooded woman, and mounds of offerings were placed around the pool by cheerful priests and priestesses. With smiles, and noiseless thanks, they took the offerings. Voden thought this had to be the temple of Sedar.
“I hate these ‘fair-weather’ religious types,” Razar muttered, forcing his body around a rather frail looking man.
The gangly old man shot him a cross look and shook his head. He all but ran into Voden, saying nothing as he passed. They heard a soft chime, causing most people to stop moving. The street opened to a line of extremely well-robed men, shuffling down the road. They chanted, and every so often, they would chink the small bell they carried with them, while the man in front held a lantern-shaped container that wafted smoke from inside it. There seemed to be an odd reverence in the air, one Voden did not quite understand, but he watched the parade of men dressed in white as they slowly made their way towards the Altar of Sedar.
Razar grumbled about something but didn’t speak loud enough for Voden to hear. The main priest held a staff that had twining arrangements of flowers spiraling up it. His gown was the purest blue and gently sloped off his shoulders into a conical shape, covering his head. It slid like water across the blue stone, and the light green patterns of vine and golden filigree rippled as though they were alive. The crowd merged back together as they passed by, and the procession finally entered the temple to offer their blessings.
“These theatrics are ridiculous,” Razar murmured to the boys when the crowd had gone back to normal. “It all feels like a show of how holy they are. I think offerings to the Yarias should be made in one’s humbled silence.”
“I suppose,” grimaced Andar, looking back at the priests. “But I would think their reasoning is to remind people how important the rites are.”
“Ma
ybe if the intentions are pure,” Razar responded. “I don’t know if the House of the Sage is doing that. They follow the traditions so mechanically. How can they see themselves similar to everyone else? They’ve institutionalized the sacred that pushes the common man further into the mire, further from hope. They condition themselves to see us farther from Zagala when we have little time to practice the same rites. I just get upset. The ones to lead people in spiritual matters have not bridged any gaps between the sentients and the divine. They only lift themselves higher off the fire while we circle in the flame, begging for an answer. We can’t build high enough to reach them.”
“We are not the ones to romance the Great Beyond,” Andar responded thoughtfully. “If we are to be loved, then it cannot be until we have made amendments to ourselves. We must be loved first, and through being soaked in love, can we find ways to make it better, by willingly changing for it. The call to this romance was never who sits higher, it’s when you notice it, will you go to it? The layers of it come forward to you, but only if you ask it. It’s like a constant question of reiteration and a subtle whisper of how deep you wish to know.”
Razar looked at him curiously, and then shook his head, lost in some thought he held for himself. They continued walking, bombarded by the sounds of those who wandered the street, and Razar then turned down one of the alleys near the lake. The corridor was drastically different, where only the poor and despondent took refuge, and they stared longingly at them. Razar gave them little heed, striding as though the road was just as cheery as the one they had come from. Voden felt pangs of pity, examining their tattered and stained clothes, and their lackluster was a result of matted down dirt. He could only imagine what brought them here. They squeezed passed a cluster of ragged looking individuals, huddled around a dismal fire, while speaking a garbled language, and the sudden sputters Voden couldn’t explain agitated his heart. He felt a hand snatch his arm. It belonged to a man whose skin was drawn so tight it looked cracked and bruised and hardly held his sunken eyes in place.