They walked and labored in silence, each with their own thoughts. Wyatt’s tugged at his senses and made him dizzy. He hadn’t remembered waking and had forgotten all of the first day after they left the grisly scene. Gareck and Mareck often recapped their journey at the end of every day as Wyatt found his memory evading him, but even that his mind found difficulty holding onto.
He never looked up from her, yet every step he took was sure and stable, never sliding or stumbling. His grip never failed and he saw nothing of his surroundings. Occasionally Mareck remarked on the beauty of the rocky outcrops and the web of twisting streams that ran over shallow beds. Sometimes Gareck stooped to pick a brave flower that had sought out a crack in the stone and stretched toward the light. He placed them around Rozen until her body was covered in a blanket of fragrant reds, violets, blues, yellows, and pinks.
Wyatt hadn’t spoken since he had laid his hands on her chest and called the forest to heal her. Now he only stared and waited for his dark angel to awaken. Should she wake with a hiss and brandish her spear he would do nothing but smile. It’s my fault, he thought. His mind twisted and tortured him more and more with each step. The longer he stared at her silent and still form the guiltier he felt. If I hadn’t fallen… If I hadn’t let the Regents catch me… If I had kept running… If I…
Gareck called a halt to their journey as the sun disappeared behind a distant hill. Wyatt had no knowledge of how many sunsets he had witnessed without her. Somehow the mural each painted across the sky had become mundane and lifeless. Wyatt and Mareck lowered the long poles in silent unison, placing the dark warrior beneath a sprawling stone tree, nestled against a rocky outcrop. Wyatt sat beside her as the Children set out with their diggers in search of a secure location to make camp. He saw them disappear from the corner of his eye, Grenleck chirping excitedly alongside, but said nothing.
Her eyes were closed. He missed the piercing golden eyes he knew still existed behind tired lids. Will I ever see them again? Will they ever see me?
He couldn’t number the days they had traveled, but the dreams that came at night burned brighter than any blaze. Every night was the same, the same bloody shadow and the same oppressive feeling of guilt and despair. He would run to her, but could never reach her side. Breathless and panicked he would fall to his knees. And yell. And scream. And weep. Every night. The same dark broken body and the same flow of crimson life. He would wake with a start and spend the rest of the night holding Rozen’s hand and listening to the peaceful calm of the shadows, begging her to wake.
Her shoulder was a twisted mass of blue moss and ebony wood. Wyatt had no idea if he had saved her or only delayed her death. Should she wake, he couldn’t be sure she would ever move her arm again. The thick gnarled roots were not likely to shift easily and would never replace the muscle and sinew. But, it was oddly beautiful, the soft patches of moss and elegant dark wood that weaved in and out of her torn flesh like thick, knotted rope. He ran his fingers along the surface, slowly and deliberately. It was warm and throbbed with life.
“I’m sorry, Rozen. I shouldn’t have been so cocky.” His voice came out weak and shaky. He swallowed hard and continued. “I’m not… not really a Druid, I don’t think. I don’t really know what I am. I was just a normal… well, I was just a boy, a human, and now I’m here… with you and… I only bragged to impress you… and Gareck and Mareck. I wanted you to think I was cool… or special or something… But, now you’re hurt, maybe dying, and it’s my fault. I’ve never been worth much, never had many… any friends… and I just thought… well, I thought you’d be my friend if I was a powerful Druid, but I don’t really know what that means. I don’t really have a home. Not since my grandma got sick… I thought I could be different here. I thought I wouldn’t have to be… me. Please, wake up. I don’t care if you’re mad and hiss at me or want to fight or pick on me, just come back. I’m sorry, really, I am.”
There was more he thought he should say, but couldn’t find the words, not in his mouth, nor in his mind. So, he held tighter to her limp hand and looked skyward. He watched the twin moons slowly dance around the night sky. They came from opposite horizons, drifting toward each other every night, destined to collide, but never did. Instead, at the last moment, the illuminated orbs would turn, spinning off at ninety degrees and finishing the night at opposite ends of the sky, just as they had begun. He watched them every night and prayed for them to collide, but something repelled them apart just as they sought to kiss. He liked to imagine a violent explosion of light and warmth at their impact and felt a heaviness in his chest when they drifted apart.
At some point Gareck and Mareck returned and carried Rozen to bed, lifting her from the crude stretcher and setting her gently at the bottom of a wide hole carved deep amongst the crawling roots of a stone tree. A tranquil stream ran over rocks nearby, but did little to alleviate Wyatt’s stupor as he slid wordlessly into the hole and placed a mound of soft blue moss beneath her head. Two days before, or perhaps three, he had wrapped her vibrant fire braid softly around her neck as she often did herself. It always seemed to bring her comfort and he hoped it would do the same now.
Wyatt held her hand as Gareck gently lifted her head and poured a stream of water from his skin. The clear liquid disappeared past her thin lips and seemingly flowed into her throat though she couldn’t swallow. It was the same every night, a bit of water, but there was no way to get her to consume solid food. Once Mareck had tried to drip some honey into her mouth, but the thick sap clung to her tongue and refused to move. Wyatt had to scrape it off again as insects began to swarm around her flawless face. They had settled for water after that. Wyatt thought she was growing thinner, but it was difficult to tell as he had trouble recalling the previous moment, much less what she had looked like before. Before I got her killed…
Dawn climbed from the horizon on what Gareck assured Wyatt was the fifth day since the Shadow Forest, painting each stone and gray trunk a rich red. Gareck and Mareck nodded solemnly and wandered off in search of food and Wyatt perched along the edge of the hole he had shared with Rozen during the night.
At first, he thought he was hallucinating. Then he thought the light was playing tricks on his eyes, casting twisting shadows across her strong face. But, then she let out a groan and lifted her head, minutely at first, but soon slid up against the sloped edge of carved soil and looked about, blinking groggily. Wyatt wanted to shout, but found his tongue frozen along with the rest of his body as he watched Rozen gather her senses and blink away the darkness.
She growled from deep in her throat and Wyatt smiled. Then she looked slowly around the pit the Children had carved in the rocky soil with their mighty hammers and stiff claws. Wyatt held his breath. Is this real? Oh, is this real?
Finally, she spoke, her voice no different than it had ever been. “What is this?” she spat, her golden eyes flashing amongst the small field of flowers that surrounded her. Her eyes quickly scaled the pit and fixed on Wyatt’s.
He nearly squealed with delight. “Oh, Rozen! You’re alive. Don’t you like it? I made them just for you. I just knew you would wake up today and I wanted you to wake up in something pretty!” That was only partially true. He had found that he could channel the whisper into the rocky soil, and with thoughts of Rozen thick in his mind, conjure up a vast array of flowers. But, he had done so every morning as he sat at the edge of every hole, waiting for his dark angel to wake. Every day while the sun rose and the Children gathered food he would thrust his palms into the soil and force a thousand flowers of all colors to push from the ground around Rozen until the pit was awash in color and filled with a sweet scent.
“Ugh,” was all Rozen said, curling her short nose in abject disgust. Then her gaze shifted, darting to her shoulder. Her hand went to it, running slender fingers over the wood and moss that grew from the hole left by a well-placed spear head.
“I did that too!” Wyatt shouted and slid down the steep embankment, five feet down to her side ami
d the rainbow carpet. The smell was strong this close to his work and he couldn’t help wrinkling his nose just as Rozen had.
Rozen’s slender fingers searched every inch of her shoulder, tracing every patch of moss and probing every dip and curve of root. She wiggled upright and tentatively lifted her left arm. Wyatt held his breath. The mass of root and moss shifted and turned, not unlike a twisted bundle of muscle, and her arm rose in front of her. She curled and uncurled her fingers and flexed her elbow. Then she slowly rotated her shoulder in its new joint, small circles at first, but then in a wide swimming motion.
“Good as new,” Wyatt said with a gasp of relief. She’s not crippled.
“What did you do?”
Wyatt shrugged and scratched his head. “Uh, well, I’m not really sure.”
Her eyes shot from her new shoulder to Wyatt’s smirking face. They locked eyes a moment. He studied her face, but found he was no more able to decipher its meaning than before. At last Rozen looked away, still clutching her shoulder, her fingers dancing about the intricacies.
“Uh, you’re welcome,” Wyatt said at last.
Rozen nodded softly, but only turned slightly toward him. Is that a tear? Wyatt leaned forward to get a better look at the warrior’s face, but a loud expulsion of joy and rabid chirping descended on them as a pair of round Children and a diminutive bog imp slid into the pit, sending a shower of dirt and pebbles before them. Gareck and Mareck landed with a soft thud, crushing a majority of the flowers, and seized Rozen in a tight embrace while Grenleck danced about beside them, shrieking and clapping his tiny hands. Rozen disappeared beneath the round creatures and Wyatt found himself scrambling backward to avoid being crushed.
“Oho, Rozen, you’re alive. Oh, praise the Mother,” Gareck bellowed.
“Aye, aye, Dear. Our Draygan has returned. Death will have to wait for her a bit longer. Tsk tsk.”
Grenleck chirped and chortled. Rozen squirmed beneath their broad bodies, attempting to ward off the affection, but it was in vain. The Children were much too large and far too jovial to relent. Wyatt frowned at the interruption at first, but soon felt a smile drift across his face and heard a laugh run from his lips. Seeing the mighty Draygan warrior sandwiched between two round Children was too much to bear. He joined in as well, wrapping his arms around shoulders and pressing his face between round heads. Soon Grenleck scaled Mareck’s back and did the same, wrapping tiny arms around Rozen’s head and squealing with delight.
Rozen protested, but her words were lost amid the pile of joyous friends and it came as only a groan and series of grunts. She protested, but no one paid her discomfort any due. At last, when they had hugged all they could and smiled and laughed until it hurt, they relented and released the disgruntled warrior.
Rozen glared at each of them in turn, her golden eyes flashing wickedly around the crowded pit. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
“Oh, Rozen,” sang Gareck. “We’re just so pleased to see you again.”
“And healed as well,” Mareck chimed in. “Wonderful work our Druid did, aye?”
Rozen scowled and rubbed at the mottled mass of roots creeping over and through her shoulder. She tugged at the torn edge of her vest.
“Sorry about your armor, Rozen,” Wyatt said. “It may be a little, well, fused to the, uh, roots and stuff.” Wyatt offered a shrug and coy smile, but she only returned a scowl.
“Oh, she’ll be just fine, Master. You did fine work,” Gareck said as he slumped against a dirt wall, facing Rozen.
Mareck slid beside her counterpart and added, “Aye, and I’m sure Rozen appreciates what you did, just as we do. We’d be terribly grieved to lose her. Tsk tsk.”
Wyatt smiled winningly and Grenleck chirped and climbed into his lap, but Rozen remained silent and settled up against the soil bank, fussing with her fire braid. The odd group of five sat in silence a while. The pit was just large enough to avoid having any of their feet touch as they all sat with their legs splayed out in front of them.
After some time Gareck stumbled out of the pit and returned with a handful of leafy plants, roots, and a bundle wrapped in linen and tied with twine. They passed the food in silence. The bundle turned out to be a block of sap and honey, mixed with shredded plant fibers. The sweet concoction could not be seen, however, as the entirety of the block was covered in a mix of insects. Gareck called it a bug block and he claimed the insects were fresh, having been ensnared in the sticky substance that morning. Wyatt recoiled at the notion of even touching it; some of the strange insects were still squirming. Rozen however, tore into the wriggling block with fervor, devouring half the brick without seeming to chew or breathe. Wyatt frowned and turned away, but Gareck and Mareck laughed.
“Let our Draygan eat as she wishes, Master. It’s been quite some time since she did. I imagine she must be famished.”
Wyatt forced a weak smile and nibbled at the stalk of greens in his hand. The stems and leaves were slightly bitter, but the roots reminded him of cinnamon and carrots. It was far less desirable than a bowl of cereal, but he ate it with no less vigor. He couldn’t recall his last meal. The last week had become a blur. He couldn’t recall much of any of it.
When they had finished their meal and Grenleck had licked the last of the honey and sap from their fingers they packed up their things, shouldered their packs and resumed their journey. It should have been a relief to not have to carry Rozen and their collective cargo, but Wyatt didn’t feel relieved. He watched Rozen wander on ahead of him as he stepped over stones and splashed through streams, carrying his map and regrown thorn staff. It was as if nothing had changed. He was left to watch her shadowy form from afar, staring after her torn cloak and dark hood as she deftly maneuvered through the treacherous terrain. She often had to wait for Wyatt and the Children to catch up and she would do so leaned against a gnarled stone tree, scowling and lazily twirling her spear.
Watt wanted to say something. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to demand some sort of respect and appreciation for what he had done. Did I not save her life? He eventually decided it was foolish to imagine her falling in love with him, despite the miracle he had performed, but he thought it equally outlandish that she could not even give a ‘thank you’ or a passing smile. Nothing had changed. And it fueled a growing resentment deep within him.
Soon after departing the terrain began to shift. The dwarfed stone trees grew taller and more numerous, and their wicked roots grew from stone and soil all the same. By midday they were stumbling through a forest of gray trunks and twisting roots that seemed to crowd closer at every step. By nightfall Wyatt was bleeding from a myriad of cuts and scrapes from numerous falls and was all too glad to collapse on the soft damp bank of a twisting stream that cut beneath the stilt-like roots of the gray stone trees.
Gareck and Mareck set to digging holes in the rocky soil a good distance from the stream. Gareck claimed that digging so near water was a recipe for a water bed. Wyatt laughed at that, realizing the Child had no knowledge of what he had said. Rozen had disappeared long before they had stopped for the night, but neither Gareck nor Mareck showed any concern and so Wyatt put her out of his mind as well, for once. He sprawled along the shallow embankment with Grenleck at his side and unfurled the aged map.
“If this is to scale, we should be getting pretty close to the bog and Ouranos,” he said, to which Grenleck chirped and pointed into the distance. “Hey, I’m the guide here. I know where we’re going.” But, do I? It was growing harder to believe his own lies.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE SUN HAD completely vanished by the time Mareck and Gareck returned, covered in dirt and sweat, but smiling all the same. They trundled down to the stream to bathe and Gareck cleaned and bandaged Wyatt’s myriad of scrapes and cuts. The cold water was refreshing and numbing to the host of aches and pains across his body. When they had finished, Mareck and Gareck wandered back up the bank and disappeared into the trees. Wyatt watched them go and realized their nudity no longer bother
ed him. In fact, he hardly noticed it anymore. They weren’t so different than the gray stones that littered the sparse forest.
He sat at the edge of the stream, perched atop a smooth boulder, tightening the wraps around his hands and feet while watching Grenleck splash about in the shallow water. The moons made their appearance and cast the stream in a kaleidoscope of dancing white slivers from the errant beams of light that penetrated the sparse canopy. He knew he should turn in for the night, but something was keeping his wits alive and his eyes from drooping.
“Hey, Gren,” he called. Grenleck chirped, turned and splashed toward him. “Can you find Rozen?” I have something I need to say…
Grenleck tilted his round head, first to one side, then to the other. He chirped and spun in a tight circle amid the tranquil pass of cold water. He dashed downstream before Wyatt could stumble off the boulder and follow the diminutive imp. Luckily, the moonlight was bright along the stream and he kept sight of Grenleck as he ran alongside the stream, slipping and sliding on the slick mud.
The stream twisted and careened through the stone forest. Soon Grenleck stopped and chirped softly, pointing downstream. The stream had slowly broadened and in the distance Wyatt could hear the tumble and splash of a waterfall. Wyatt patted Grenleck on the top of the head and directed him back to camp. The imp chirped and disappeared upstream without any argument. This is a conversation for just two, he thought. It’s time she knew how I feel.
He followed the stream until in cascaded over an abrupt termination of stone and soil where it fell several feet into a dark pool. He moved away from the bank and threaded his way through the crooked roots and wayward trunks until he was beside the pool. On the other side, he could see Rozen’s spear thrust into the soil and her bow and quiver hung from a nearby branch. Her cloak was also hung alongside her weapons as was the rest of her clothing. She must have cut the vest from her shoulder as it too lay at the foot of a tree along with neat strips of linen. It took Wyatt a moment to realize what it meant. Somewhere nearby, the dark Draygan was without clothing of any kind.
The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy) Page 21