Toby and the Secrets of the Tree

by Timothee de Fombelle

  A quiet life would do for Toby from now on. A life with its fair share of good news and minor misfortunes. A branch fell on the west side. . . . Nini’s had triplets, you know. . . . The cicadas are late. . . . It’s not going to snow tonight. . . .

  Toby realized that during this long struggle over so many years, this was all he’d craved. These little nothings.

  And today, with Elisha in his arms, he’d never felt so hopeful of victory. He’d never before been so sure about this being the first morning of a new world.

  Nils Amen had placed his head on the log.

  Big Solken was gripping the ax, and his woodcutter’s jacket was soaked through with sweat.

  “You’re about to kill an innocent man,” said Nils, whose hands were tied behind his back.

  Solken had agreed to execute the traitor. He’d brought Nils here at dusk, deep in the heart of a lichen copse. They were far from the clearings where children were playing in their pajamas, far from the houses teeming with life, where sheets were being tucked in for the night.

  Solken was attempting to banish his fear.

  He had to kill Nils Amen, the young prince of woodcutters, Norz and Lili’s son. He was trying not to tremble, but his hand was clammy on the ax.

  Solken was one of the wise elders, but his terrifying duty had come back to haunt him.

  Shaine and Torquo, the Flying Woodcutters, had managed to postpone the punishment. They had talked about a young woman in love, who was supposed to return with evidence. But the girl hadn’t reappeared. She was probably on the side of the traitors too. They couldn’t wait any longer.

  Solken took the ax in both hands.

  A few strides away, Norz Amen was going berserk.

  He was running and shouting at the same time, “Solken! Solken! Stop!”

  But he couldn’t find Solken.

  Toby Lolness had just arrived. Nils was innocent.

  “Solken!” groaned Norz as he cut a path through the moss. “Where are you? Answer me!”

  Solken was trying to gather his strength. He heard Norz’s voice calling in the distance. Nils’s father must be going out of his mind with despair. He had to finish off the job before Norz found them. He didn’t want to inflict this spectacle on a father.

  Solken raised the ax above Nils’s neck, but the young man didn’t seem afraid.

  “Lila . . .” Nils uttered her name as the shiny blade hovered above him.

  Just then, a cry ripped the air apart, and Norz burst onto the scene.

  “Stop!” he roared.

  But the ax was already swooping down. Despite all Solken’s best efforts to stop it, the blade didn’t deviate. Solken closed his eyes.

  “He didn’t do anything,” implored Norz. “I’ve got the proof, Solken!”

  Solken couldn’t bear to open his eyes.

  “I told you,” whispered a voice at his feet. “I’m innocent.”

  Startled by his father’s outcry, Nils had managed to slide his head to the side at the last moment. He had felt the breeze from the blade in his hair. The ax had just split the wooden log in two.

  Nils was alive.

  In the space of just a few days, the Tree looked completely different.

  The first leaves had a gently crumpled skin, like the skin of newborn babies or old people. The buds started bursting open, one by one. Spring was painting the Branches green again. Once more, the Tree had stood up against the onslaught of winter and was shaking off the last remaining snow.

  But this time, a little hope glistened with the spring. The most spectacular hatching of all was that taking place in the minds of the people from the Branches. Toby’s return, the proof that the Grass people and the Lolness family were innocent, Leo Blue’s complete turnaround — all this news swept across the Tree at a gallop. People were up in arms about Joe Mitch’s terrible plot.

  This revolution, which they called the Spring Uprising, began by winning over the woodcutters.

  Norz Amen was broken by the shame of having unjustly accused his son: when he tried to take him in his arms, Nils stepped away. Still holding out his arms, Norz looked at Nils. Then he let his oversize hands drop to his sides.

  His son was refusing to forgive him, and Norz knew that what he’d done was unforgivable.

  “I understand,” said the father. “I can understand, my son. . . .” He walked backward, clumsily hiding his emotions, and headed off into the woods.

  Near a plateau of climbing lichen, he passed a young woman. He recognized her and turned his head away, so she wouldn’t see his red eyes.

  The young woman looked at him. It was Lila Asseldor. Norz knew that she had saved his son’s life.

  “He’ll need some time,” she said. “But he’ll come back to you.”

  “Thank you, miss . . .” said Norz, half turning around.

  “Be patient. Woodcutters are known for their patience.”

  “Yes, we are,” Norz conceded without moving. And he added into his beard, “But I’m old. . . .”

  Hearing this, Lila went over to give Norz Amen a peck on the cheek. He just had enough strength left to say, “I’m the traitor, because I didn’t trust my own son. . . .”

  The lumbering woodcutter headed off.

  Nils and Lila stood for a long time facing each other, on either side of the clearing.

  Staring into each other’s eyes, they made the most of the distance between them, because they knew that as soon as their hands touched, nothing, ever, would separate them again.

  Joe Mitch’s intuition was as good as a bluebottle’s. He could sense the trouble coming from whole branches away. Intuition is sometimes worth more than lots of brain cells and a healthy heart.

  When hundreds of woodcutters surrounded and then invaded the Crater, they were angry to discover that Mitch had left the previous day.

  Toby rushed toward the ravine where the elderly scholars had been kept. All the prisoners had disappeared. There was only one guard left in the Crater. Toby gave orders to keep on looking.

  He heard his name being called.

  It was Mo and Milo Asseldor, who were climbing up from the bottom of the ravine.

  “Toby! They’re locked up down here. We’ve got to break down the door. We can hear voices inside.”

  Toby ran as far as the dormitory and stood in front of the door. Big Solken was next to him, with Torquo, Shaine, and a few other Flying Woodcutters. Jalam was there too, along with a dozen Grass people who had found their peashooters again and refused to be separated from Little Tree. Only Elisha had left, to go and find her mother.

  Toby took the ax from Solken’s hands. He looked at the door. Could it be that this thin barrier was all that separated him from his parents? He raised the ax and brought it crashing into the wood. The plank split down the middle, like a theater curtain.

  There, just behind the door, motionless, were the prisoners. Their expressions were serious as they looked at Toby and his friends. There was neither joy nor relief on their faces. Lou Tann, the old shoemaker, was wrapped in a blanket.

  Zef Clarac and Vigo Tornett stepped out from the rows of prisoners. “We didn’t know if anyone would come.”

  “They’re alive!” Torquo shouted to the other woodcutters, who were just arriving.

  But Zef Clarac shook his head.

  “No. We’re not all alive.”

  The crowd of prisoners parted, clearing a pathway down the middle.

  On the last mattress, right at the back, Toby saw a spotless piece of white cloth draped over a prostrate body.

  Toby relaxed his grip on the ax and it fell, sticking into the wooden floor. He advanced between the long, gray faces as Mo followed him with a torch. He could feel the strong energy uniting the prisoners, the sort of indestructible friendships that flourish in the darkness of labor camps.

  Toby went over to the bed. He turned back for another glance at those faces, with Mo’s torch flickering over them.

  Toby gently lifted the sheet.

&
nbsp; It was Councillor Rolden.

  “He died in the night,” gasped Lou Tann. “He was my friend.”

  “I know,” said Toby.

  “He wanted to see his branch again.”

  “I know.”

  A small man was propping up Lou Tann, and all eyes were fixed on Toby.

  Vigo Tornett ran his hand over his beard.

  “Mitch took your parents, little one. We have to find that piece of filth.”

  Toby had been expecting words to this effect from Tornett. He knew that Joe Mitch wouldn’t have released Sim and Maya Lolness.

  “I’m coming with you,” said Vigo Tornett. “I owe at least that to my old friend Rolden.”

  “Me too,” called out another voice, behind Zef.

  “And me!” shouted another.

  “And me!”

  A war cry rose up in the small dormitory. A rallying cry that the woodcutters took up and the Grass people prolonged in mysterious tones. The Tree shivered.

  Only Lou Tann stayed behind, kneeling at the foot of Rolden’s bed, whispering, “Old branch, my old branch . . .”

  Before leaving the Crater, Toby ran his eye over the giant wound that looked like a dragon’s lair. He wondered if the Tree would ever recover from this harm. A gust of wind made a cluster of leaves sing above them. The soothing lullaby reassured Toby.

  The dragon had left. And not only was the Tree still standing — it was even singing.

  Just then, Toby noticed two small figures on the other side, above the ravine. One of them was standing precariously facing the huge hole. The other, a child, was crouched down just behind.

  Toby recognized Ilaya and Moon Boy.

  Moon Boy had found his sister in a hole in the wall, chilled to the bone.

  He saw Toby and gave a reassuring signal. He was looking after her.

  For a split second, Toby’s eyes met Ilaya’s. Then he looked down and set off with his troops.

  Moon Boy stayed behind his sister for hours. Her shoulders heavy with remorse, Ilaya stood there contemplating the chasm below. She leaned forward, playing with her balance. She wanted to die and felt that she was to blame for all the misfortune in the world.

  Moon Boy began by talking to her gently, slowly getting closer to her. Then he hummed some songs. Finally, he stopped making any kind of noise whatsoever.

  The night wind caused Ilaya’s body to sway. The Crater had been completely deserted for some time now. The two of them were all alone, on the edge of the hole. Darkness filled it like a lake.

  When Ilaya collapsed with exhaustion, there was a second when her body wavered on the edge of the Crater. But she stayed up there, on the side of life.

  Moon Boy pulled her toward him and they slept, propped against each other.

  During this time, the Spring Uprising was gaining ground in the Treetop. The numbers of those joining Toby’s column kept growing. The people of the Tree were finding hope again. Men and women emerged from their homes, like owls blinking in the light, to join the general movement.

  Joe Mitch was on the run. People had to pinch themselves to believe it.

  “I told you! Good news passes nobody by,” crowed a short man who was struggling to fit into a handsome suit from his youth.

  “It’s wonderful!” echoed his wife, sniffing. “It’s wonderful. . . .”

  Others came out into the night carrying torches. At last, children could be seen playing all over the branches again.

  People were inspecting the Tree seriously. Their eyes had been opened.

  “Is it too late?” some of them asked as they pondered the scarcity of buds in the Treetop.

  But their neighbors rebuked them. “Roll up your sleeves, you load of misery-guts! It’s never too late.”

  These people, who had dug their own unhappiness, were waking up to an extraordinary task that forced them to stand up and take notice. They started by filling in the tunnels and scratching the moss off the buds. Lovers even stopped carving their names into the bark.

  Good news passes nobody by.

  The Treetop dwellers, who had arrived as reinforcements, informed Toby that Joe Mitch was on the run. According to some witnesses, he was traveling on the last surviving weevil, with a few men at his side. They were still detaining two prisoners. . . .

  Joe Mitch had been abandoned along the way by his supporters, some of whom were no doubt hiding in the crowd that now followed Toby Lolness.

  But Toby knew that Mitch wasn’t fleeing at random. He had a plan. Mitch had the most precious exchange currency between his hands: a scientist in a beret and his wife.

  Vigo Tornett stuck to Toby’s side. He had been overjoyed to learn that his nephew Plok had gotten away and that he was now safe in a house in the Low Branches. Vigo was rediscovering his youth, the green of his first springs.

  One morning, at the base of a small branch, Toby noticed two old ladies watching them pass by. Two bony women, leaning on their walking sticks. Vigo told Toby that he would go and question them.

  Toby kept an eye on brave Tornett from a distance. His friend could have passed for a bandit, but he greeted the two old women with dignity. Then, suddenly, Toby saw him shove his elbow into the spine of the first lady and crush her ribs with his knee. Tornett grabbed the second little old lady, shook her vigorously, and sent his fist smashing into her teeth. He threw her on top of the first one and stamped on the pair of them, dancing from foot to foot.

  Toby hadn’t budged.

  Several woodcutters rushed over to tackle Vigo. The victims were groaning on the ground.

  Toby got closer. He recognized them.

  On the bark, half hidden by scarves and big granny dresses, Razor and Torn were whimpering. Mitch’s ghastly stooges had deserted their boss and disguised themselves in the hope they’d be forgotten about.

  It wasn’t that the violence brought Tornett any relief, but he was thinking of Rolden, who had died in captivity before his eyes. Neither forgiveness nor revenge would bring his friend back.

  Back on his way again, Tornett chucked a handful of the men’s teeth, which had landed in his pocket, in their direction.

  Weeks later, and very close to the Treetop, Toby set up camp on a smooth branch surrounded by young leaves covered in downy fluff.

  Toby was worried. Followed by tens of dozens of men, he had tracked Joe Mitch as far as these Heights. But Mitch’s trail disappeared here. Toby no longer had any indication of which way to go. So he had decided to head down the following day, toward the North Branches.

  The camp was asleep. Small fires were scattered over the thin layer of bark. A few Grass people could be heard singing melodies from their homeland.

  Toby was trying to sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his parents. Their voices never left him. Those same voices that used to coax him out of his nightmares as a child. Back then, it was enough for them to say, “It’s over now,” as they kissed him on the forehead, for Toby to come back to reality.

  Now he was imagining the stars above him. It had been a long time since he’d last headed up toward the Treetop.

  It was a moonless night, just like that first night of his new life as a fugitive. When there’s no moon, the stars dance more brightly. He was breathing in the dry air of the Heights, the air of the big sky that had cradled his childhood.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Toby felt his heart leap. He rolled over onto his side and found himself face-to-face with Elisha.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Elisha didn’t even bother answering a question like that.

  “I told you to stay in the Low Branches,” Toby insisted lamely.

  She nudged him with her shoulder and stayed lying next to him. Their arms were touching, from their shoulders all the way down to their fingertips.

  “I didn’t want to wait anymore,” she said after a long silence.

  They could hear the fire crackling. Elisha was giddy with the purity of the air. Her mouth and eyes were open,
and she could feel her fingers against Toby’s. There was something tender about their skin not being the same temperature. They could feel their hearts beating against each other.

  Toby didn’t dare move. He wondered if he could become used to this. One note from Elisha’s voice was enough to make his head spin; one movement from her wrist turned him topsy-turvy.

  “Me too,” he said, just in case.

  And then he said it again, more intensely this time. “Me too.”

  They fell quiet for a moment. Not even the air weighed down on them anymore. As they lay there absolutely still, they noticed the stars between the leaves.

  “It’s crazy,” said Elisha.

  There was no other word for this tenderness.

  Much later in the night, she held something out to him.

  “Here you go.”

  Toby nudged his hand toward hers.

  “We found it on our path.”

  She gave him a round, floppy object that Toby immediately recognized, despite the darkness. It was Sim Lolness’s beret.

  “He must have lost it along the way,” said Elisha.

  Toby started laughing gently.

  “Lose this? My father? He’d rather lose his head.”

  Scrunching up the beret, Toby went over to the fire. He had removed a rolled-up square of paper from the seam, which he unfolded by the light of a torch.

  Heading for the Treetop. We’re well . . . We . . .

  Toby’s fist closed over the piece of paper. Sim hadn’t been able to finish writing the message.

  Elisha was looking at Toby. He was already somewhere else.

  He stood up in the darkness, and with a single word that rang out from fire to fire, he woke the entire camp.

  Joe Mitch had entrenched himself in the South Egg.

  The rest of the Nest looked abandoned. Toby and his friends chased away a huge spider that had settled in there, and in a matter of seconds they had the Egg surrounded.

  According to the men who arrived first, there were just four people left in the shell. So Joe Mitch only had one man still loyal to him, who was guarding Sim and Maya.