by S. L. Naeole
“Where are we going?” I asked as he moved towards one of the large windows and kicked it open.
“To the one place where we won’t be disturbed,” he replied before the house, the ground, and my life as I knew it was left behind us.
IN A FOREST FILLED WITH EYES
I hadn’t thought about this place since I had learned the truth about my mother’s death. The wooded area that surrounded most of the field at Robert’s family retreat held dark memories for me. Even in the light of midmorning, I couldn’t shake the miserable feelings that clawed at me like desperate weeds, yearning to have just one more seed of doubt plant itself into my mind.
Robert did not let my feet touch the ground as he walked quickly through the quiet darkness that offered little in way of light, save for a hint of sunlight every few dozen trees or so. I instantly recognized the spot where Lark had received her wings, the joy of such a momentous event overshadowed by the fact that it had been me who was her wing-bringer, and not Graham or Stacy.
This was also where I had learned the truth about my mother’s death; where I learned that I wasn’t supposed to have survived that accident at all. Soon, it was behind us, the trees and the brush becoming denser, the ground softer as we moved deeper into the darkness of the canopy.
“Bala,” Robert called out when we stopped moving and lowered me carefully to the ground. I shivered as the name brought back the vividly terrifying images of the green, plant-like woman with the jet black eyes and the moss-like hair. “Bala, I know you’re here.”
A snickering sound came from the trunk of what looked like an ancient willow, its branches, heavy with leaves, hung down over us like an umbrella. The bark on the impossibly wide trunk was nearly invisible beneath a blanket of moss that clung to it like a second skin. Straggled ferns jutted out from the twisted and knotted base, looking like missed feathers on a plucked chicken, and tiny blossoms were scattered all over the moss, like tiny, petaled stars.
There were several areas of darkness on the tree, holes where animals or insects burrowed to escape the deluge of rain or snow that would have undoubtedly blanketed this area with unnecessary moisture. It was then that I realized that we had approached the edge of a small lake. The lower hanging leaves gently skimmed the still water and I shivered at its liquid darkness.
The snickering grew louder and I returned my focus to the tree, blinking several times before my eyes could focus on two dark spots in the tree, spaced apart just so that they gave the tree the appearance of having eyes.
And then those eyes blinked.
“Holy crap!” I yelped, stumbling back into Robert’s arms.
“It’s okay,” he said to me reassuringly. “Bala’s not dangerous.”
“So you’d like to think,” a raspy, almost sultry voice laughed from deep within the tree itself.
The tree began to vibrate, the leaves and branches above our heads swaying gently as the eyes that blinked grew defined, the bark that surrounded them grew smooth, taut. A shape began to emerge, pulling away from the trunk of the twisted tree; low hanging branches smoothed out to form long, lithe arms. Moss pulled away from the bark to become the hair that quickly moved to cover the torso and waist of the woman that now stood in front of me, the flowers that still clung to her now opening and closing with each rise and fall of her chest. She moved towards me as though she were floating on the leaves, fluid and graceful despite the thick foliage that rested beneath her.
“Aren’t you glad to see me, little Grace?” she asked me. The way she said my name caused tremors to run down my arm, and I couldn’t do anything but stare at her, too frightened to respond.
“How she trembles, your Grace who stared down an Erlking,” she laughed. Her hand reached out to touch my cheek and her coal black eyes closed with a sigh. “So warm, so soft.
I, in turn, flinched at the cold, clammy feel of hers. She didn’t miss this. “I’m sorry that I am not pleasing to you. I was once like you, you know. My skin was just as soft, just as warm as yours.”
“I don’t understand,” I began, looking at her features and wondering how it was possible that someone who looked like she did could have once been human.
“Of course you don’t, child. You’ve lived in your own little world, where I’m but a fairy tale, a story in a book that you only read when you have nothing else better to do. But my life is no fairy tale. Unlike you, I didn’t ask to be turned.”
I turned a surprised glance to Robert, whose grim expression told me in wordless terms that such things were possible. I returned to look at Bala, her face now a mixture of anger and sadness, and asked her what happened.
The emotions on her face were quickly replaced with pleasure, the comical smile that pulled up the corners of her mouth almost as beautiful as it was frightening. Almost.
“It has been so long since someone has asked me that. And you ask me because you genuinely want to know—how rare in a human to be so concerned. Let’s sit.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me down towards the ground.
I stumbled, unwilling to sit in the muddy ground beneath my feet but powerless against the unnatural strength that Bala possessed. Before I fell, however, an unearthed root rose to meet me, bending to cradle me like no chair ever could. I watched, fascinated as another root rose from beneath Bala’s feet to form a seat for her, a rather crude one that looked more like a rough hewn barstool, but she relaxed in it as though it were the softest leather chair.
Robert, bemused by the scene before him, simply stood behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder reassuringly, the other playfully running through my hair.
“I haven’t told this story in so long, I don’t know how to begin it,” Bala said to me with a laugh, and I felt the vibrations of her laughter in the root that perched beneath me.
“I lived in a small cottage at the edge of a wooded area with my family. I was sixteen, ready for marriage, ready for a family. My two oldest sisters had already married and borne babes, and my two younger sisters were both betrothed. I was the only one without a match, the one destined to care for my parents until their deaths, so you can imagine how I felt when I first saw him.
“He approached me when I was alone fetching water. I felt…drawn to him, like ants to honey. He was like a god, a god who dropped down from the sky just for me. I would have gone anywhere with him. And I did. I followed until we were so deep into the trees that day had died, and night had taken over.
“And then he said to me ‘because I have found you amongst the trees, this is how you will always be remembered’. I thought those words were the most beautiful ever spoken. His voice filled me with joy and with hope.
“He kissed me, my first kiss, and it was like it invaded my mind, filled my head with so many thoughts I became lost in them. I was so lost, that I couldn’t find my way out of them; I fell out of that world and woke up in this one. I tried to walk home, but I couldn’t move further than a few feet. It was like I had been tied to something, something heavy and unmoving. And though it was dark, I could still see everything as though the world was filled with nothing but light. I saw that there was no binding on me, and again tried to walk home, but my feet were rooted to the ground.
“Only then did I notice that my skin had changed. What used to be the same shade as thin clay had become the color of the muddy grass, and the hair that I had kept covered beneath cloth, like my mother and sisters did, was loose and hanging around me, longer than it should have been. I screamed when I saw that it wasn’t dark, like my mother’s, but green like moss, and thick like it, too. It moved as though it was alive, and I fell into the sleep of the dead.
“When I awoke the second time, the sun was rising. I could hear the calls of my father and I called out to him, helping him find me. When he saw me, he began to curse me, told me that I was not his daughter, that I was some kind of monster who had eaten her. He ran away, frightened by what he saw. I waited for him to return—three times the sun rose and set before he finally did, and when
I heard his approach, I stood up to see that he was holding an axe in his hand.
“He hadn’t returned to save me. He had returned to kill me. I turned to escape, running between trees and shadows until I felt myself being pulled towards a large tree. It seemed to be calling to me, whispering my name. I ran to it and hid behind it. My father passed by, looking possessed. I was so frightened, my body was shaking. I didn’t know then that I wasn’t hiding behind the tree, but rather inside of it, and that my emotions traveled through the tree, my fear becoming its own, rattling its branches and leaves.
“My father saw this, saw this large, quaking tree and he fled back home, dropping the axe on the ground as he left. It was the last time I ever saw him, the last time I saw anyone for a long while. I didn’t leave the safety of the tree at all, convinced that I had committed some grave sin by following that stranger, by allowing that kiss, and that this was my eternal punishment.
“That is, until one day I saw a beautiful woman walking by. She was magnificent, with dark hair and glowing skin, and she was singing the most beautiful song. I couldn’t understand the words but I knew that I was meant to speak to her, and that she wouldn’t run away.
“But she already knew. She came to my tree, held out her hand without even seeing me. Her smile was so warm, so friendly, so accepting, and I cried. I wept like a newborn as I left the safety of the tree that had protected me for so long, and she held me like a mother would her own child, allowing me my grief. She said to me ‘I have seen your past and I weep for you, too’ and she did.
“Afterward, she revealed that she was an angel, and that one of her own had changed me. She called it ‘turning’. She explained to me what it meant for me. She could see the limitations I had, and see what I was capable of—all of the things I had never considered, never thought to consider because I had resigned myself to forever being lost in my tree—and she helped me to understand them and use them to my advantage.
“My tree is not just my home, it is my heart. Harm my tree and you, in turn, harm me. I can only travel as far as my roots have grown, which was why I couldn’t run away when my father found me—my tree was still rather young, its roots only going several feet into the ground.
“I asked her why she was helping me. She said it was because free will is so precious to them, she did not believe that anyone should have it taken from them. When she left me, she promised to return whenever I needed her help. I did not believe her.
“Then came the fire.”
Bala’s eyes, already darker than coal, deepened. “I had thought that my father had never spoken of me again after that day in the woods, that he had simply pretended that I had never existed. But one day, children began to come into my forest. They were looking for the ‘tree woman’, tapping the trees to see which held the person who filled their nightmares. Their quest soon turned violent, and their attack on a dead tree caused it to topple onto one of them.
“The others fled, leaving the young boy pinned beneath old trunk I lifted it off of him, but it was too late. He was so young, not long past a babe. I moved him towards the edge of the tree line so that his family could retrieve him and thought that would be the end of it, but the children who hadn’t been hurt…they told tales of blame. That the boy’s body would end up at the edge of the woods only proved their tales true.
“The villagers were angry, superstition controlling every decision, every fear, and so they reacted violently, at first chopping down the trees that framed the woods themselves. When one villager’s carelessness caused a tree to fall onto another man, I was blamed for that as well. The villagers decided then to set fire to the entire forest.
“I couldn’t escape; my fears of being in hell had finally been realized. The animals that had lived beside me fled, I could hear the cries of pain from the trees that surrounded me. My death was so close, I could do nothing but embrace it. And then, like Heaven itself had opened her doors to me, the angel returned..
“She told me to retreat into my tree and remain still as death. I had to make a decision then to trust her or to die in the fire that was so close, the tips of my leaves were turning brown from the heat. The pain from that alone was nearly unbearable and I knew I would do anything to escape that torture. I did as I was told and closed my eyes to the world as the digging started.
“It took only minutes for her to unearth my roots. I had pulled them in as close as possible, away from the scorching heat of the fire that was just feet away. And then there was no soil around me, no soil beneath me. I was as vulnerable as I had ever been, the danger to my life more palpable than even the fire.
“I don’t know how long it was that we were moving—it felt like we were chasing the sun across the sky because the warmth of it never seemed to die out—but finally I recognized the cool, familiar embrace of soil, rich with delicious things for my starved body.
“My roots—oh they were so tired and cramped from being pulled up—stretched out into the loose earth until I was firmly seated in my new home. The angel told me that this was her forest, and that I would be safe here. I allowed myself to open my eyes and found myself here, in this place of immense solitude and beauty.
“But I was weak, almost too weak to appreciate the great lengths to which the angel had gone to bring me here, to save me. She brought her son to me, a companion who would keep me company while I mended she said. He told me about how the world had changed since I had been turned, how many centuries had gone by, and how the world had changed. I wept for the joy and the sadness of it, and I wept for the loss of my home.”
“Where did you call home?” I asked, speaking for the first time since she began her story.
“Greece.”
“So you’re the reason we have those myths about nymphs.”
“They are not myths! They are real. You can see that now.”
She stood then, her hair moving to shield her nakedness as she moved towards me, never truly walking though her body undulated as though she were. She took my hand and I fought against the recoil that came from the shock of such cold, clammy skin.
“I talk so much—I did not ask why you are here.” She looked to Robert, her height equal to his so that they were at eye level. “You did not bring your Grace here to hear about me, N’Uriel, so tell me now why you have come. Another lesson in fear, perhaps?”
Robert shook his head. “Grace has asked to be turned. I’ve brought her here to keep from being disturbed. I wanted you to help ensure that.”
A light of recognition flashed in Bala’s eyes and I watched, fascinated as the two of them began to speak to each other, her in her own Grecian language, while Robert through his thoughts. It was such a surreal image: this tree-like woman, freakishly beautiful and otherworldly speaking so casually to this dark angel of mine, with wings that towered above him. How did I get to this point, where seeing such things no longer depended on the depths of my imagination but rather the lengths to which I’d allow my own eyes to see.
With a few curt nods and a small smile directed at me, Bala began to retreat towards her tree, the root I was sitting on gently lifting me to my feet and disappearing beneath the soil. Soon she was gone, lost in the tree once more, the dark spots that I recognized as her eyes invisible to me now.
“Was that real? I mean, I saw it, I spoke to her and felt her, but was all of that real?” I asked in disbelief.
“As real as I am,” Robert answered with a wry smile.
“So…” I said, my voice trailing off as I struggled to find the right words to ask what was next. “What now?”
“We wait,” he said simply.
I nodded with limited understanding, and decided to look around us, walking towards the water’s edge as whatever it was that he and Bala had discussed came to be.
The water was still, strangely unmoving as it touched the odd, peachy soil. I peered in, expecting to see the murky brown of a shallow bottom. Instead I stood amazed at the clarity of the almost emerald green water that refl
ected the tree and sky that hung above it. “What makes the water so green?”
“The water’s full of salt and other minerals—my mother made this lake for Bala so that she’d always have something to remind her of her home—this is as close as one can get to the beaches of Greece in Ohio, I’m afraid.”
I knelt down, my hand reaching out to skim the water and finding it unusually warm. “Is it supposed to be this temperature?”
“Yes, although it’s about to get much warmer.”
“Wha…?”
True to his word, the water began to warm quite rapidly. I removed my fingers just before steam began to float on the surface, and jumped backwards when the water roared to life in a full boil.
“Stay back,” Robert said, pulling me behind him as the water began to rush up.
“What’s going on?” My voice was tense, and I winced as splashes of sizzling hot water landed on my jeans, soaking through to burn my skin.
“Dammit,” he cursed before turning around and lifting me off of the ground, his wings closing in around us, shielding us from the growing waves of blistering liquid. I shook with fear at the sound of water splashing and rolling beneath us, my leg throbbing as the fabric of my jeans began to stick to my scorched skin.
“What’s going on, Robert? Why is the water boiling?” I shouted through gritted teeth, reaching for my leg to lessen the pain somehow.
“Bala’s expending a lot of energy right now—it’s causing the water to superheat. It’ll be over soon, just a few more minutes.”
I didn’t know what was worse, the pain in my leg or the fear that at any minute, scalding hot water was going to seep through the dark feathers and melt away what was left of it. I focused on the soft glow that came through Robert’s skin, the color a muted blue turning everything violet—whatever was going on outside of the safety of his wings was pleasing him.
