Roots of Insight (Dusk Gate Chronicles -- Book Two)

by Breeana Puttroff

  “William!” she shouted. “Get those boys away from here. Thomas, I need you to climb up onto that branch and hold the bottom of the tree house.”

  William’s head snapped around, his eyes quickly assessing the condition of the structure before they widened in alarm. “It’s going to fall. We all have to get out of here.”

  Quinn shook her head. “There’s another little boy up there. That’s what these boys are trying to tell you. Thomas, now! I need you up there now!”

  William looked aghast when he finally saw the third little face in the window. He seemed to freeze in panic. The two boys on the ground were both sobbing hysterically. Thomas was climbing into the tree.

  “Linnea,” Quinn said, “help him get those boys away in case it falls.” She looked over at the boys. “What is his name?” she asked, as calmly as she could manage.

  “Elliott,” one of the boys choked out. “Help him please … we didn’t mean to…”

  “William, come help Thomas hold it so it doesn’t fall,” she said, as Linnea began to lead the other boys away.

  “Elliott,” she called into the tree house as she walked around the perimeter, trying to assess the situation. “Are you okay up there? Are you hurt?”

  The boy didn’t answer.

  On the other side of the tree house, she could see the doorway. A rope ladder hung from the threshold, swinging a few feet from the ground, pulled too high by the tilted angle of the structure. She tugged on the bottom rung of the rope, and the entire platform wobbled slightly. She walked back to the window side.

  “Elliott! Hey buddy, do you think you could let us help you climb out the window?”

  There was still no answer. He looked okay; he was sitting up near the window, alert. William and Thomas had positioned themselves completely underneath the two corners of the house that they could reach, bracing it to keep it from falling further.

  “We need to get him out through that window,” Quinn said, “but he won’t talk to me.”

  “Elliott!” Thomas called. “We’re here to help you! Can you talk to us?”

  Nothing.

  “Crap! He must be freaked out.” Quinn was reminded suddenly of Owen, who sometimes reacted to stress by shutting down completely, speaking to no one. She stepped up into the tree between Thomas and William.

  “Get out of here, Quinn! This thing is heavy, and it could fall at any second,” Thomas hissed at her.

  She ignored him, scooting to the large limb that the tree house was braced against. She wrapped her arms around it and began to climb.

  “Quinn, that is too dangerous. We need to get some more help. Thomas and I might not be able to keep this thing up. You can’t risk this.”

  She kept climbing. “It could fall before anyone else could get here. You two are going to have to keep it balanced for long enough for me to get him.”

  “Quinn! No!”

  She paid no attention, shimmying around the limb and climbing along the side of the house until she reached the window. Elliott was still staring out blankly.

  “Hey, Elliott,” she spoke as quietly and calmly as she could. “My name is Quinn. Can I help you get out of here?” She glanced over him; there was a scrape on one of his knees, and his hands looked a little scratched up, but otherwise he looked okay. She noticed, now, that he was much younger than the other boys, maybe only five or six cycles. A single tear slid down his cheek.

  “All right, buddy, you’re going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here and down to your friends. I just need you to listen to me, okay?”

  Relief flooded through her when he silently nodded.

  “Can you scoot all the way over here to the window for me?”

  The platform creaked loudly when the boy moved. Quinn reached through the window, and grabbed the boy under his arms. As soon as she started transferring his weight from the floor to her arms, though, the entire platform shifted unexpectedly to the left. The frame of the window slammed into the side of her arm, knocking the boy from her grip, and pinning Quinn to the trunk for a second before it shifted again and the corner of the house finally caught on a branch next to her.

  “Quinn! Are you all right?” Thomas called from below her.

  She couldn’t answer for a moment; the weight of the house had knocked the wind out of her. She struggled to reposition herself, pulling her body up and off the window frame, trying to get an angle where she could grab hold of the boy again. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she called back once she had caught her breath again. “Are you guys hurt?”

  “No, the tree branch caught it. It almost bumped my head, but right this second I’m not even holding it. It looks shaky, though. You need to get down here.”

  “Now!” William said, his voice harsh and demanding.

  Her arm was beginning to sting from where the window frame had scraped it, and she paused, reassessing her plan. She looked down below to the ground, and then up above her into the tree. “Okay, Elliott, I need you to come stand right here by the window, because we’re going to have to do this really quickly. I’m going to help you get out the window, and then we’re going to climb up for a second.”

  Elliott looked terrified, but he nodded.

  “Thomas? William? When I say the word, you need to get down and away from the tree.”

  “No! It’s too dangerous. You need to get out of the tree right now.” William’s voice now had an extra layer of stress.

  “What? Quinn, what are you going to do? This thing could fall on you.” Thomas wasn’t as forceful, but his worry was also evident.

  “Just trust me. Get out of the way.”

  “Quinn, we’re not going to leave you up there. Get down, and we’ll go get help.”

  “No, William. I can do this. I see what to do. You and Thomas just get out of the tree and as far away as you can.” She braced herself against the branch again, and reached for Elliott. “Go now!” she yelled.

  As soon as she could see William and Thomas below her, moving clear of the tree, she grabbed Elliott and pulled him against her chest. “Hang on tight, buddy.” Thankfully, he obeyed and wrapped his arms around her neck. Quinn climbed up, past the roof of the structure. Sweat was draining down her face with the effort of hauling the boy with her, but she managed to make her way to a branch that would support them. She set him in the fork of the branch, and helped him shift his grip from her neck to the tree.

  When she was relatively certain that Elliott wouldn’t fall, she carefully climbed a few feet back down, clung to the limb, and set her feet against the roof of the building. Hanging on tightly, she pushed hard against the house. It wobbled slightly, and then came to rest again. Her heart was pounding in her ears too loudly for her to understand what Thomas was yelling at her from across the clearing.

  She readjusted her grip and pushed again with all her might. Suddenly, she had to clutch wildly to keep from falling as the structure gave way under her. The tree house tottered to the side, banged against a branch, and then fell, collapsing into hundreds of pieces in the base of the tree trunk, shaking the tree violently. She almost fell again.

  As soon as all of the pieces had landed, William and Thomas came running.

  “Quinn! Are you all right?” Thomas yelled, as he climbed over the debris and began scaling the tree.

  “I’m okay. We’re both okay,” she called back, gathering the boy into her arms again. She did notice a streak of blood trailing down her shirt, but she couldn’t tell where it had come from; neither of them appeared to be hurt.

  Thomas reached them quickly, and supported Quinn as she carefully made her way down and out of the tree with Elliott clinging tightly to her neck. William, wanting to get a better look at the boy, tried coaxing him out of Quinn’s arms, but Elliott refused, burying his face in Quinn’s shirt. The other two boys ran up to him, with Linnea following closely behind.

  “Hey boys, Elliott’s okay, all right?” Thomas said. “My brother here is a healer; he just wants to look at him for a
minute. Do you live near here?”

  One of the boys – the older of the two – nodded.

  “Can you go get help? One of your parents?”

  Another nod.

  “I’ll go with them,” Linnea said, following them as they turned and headed out of the clearing.

  Thomas looked at Quinn, alarm in his eyes. “Quinn, what happened to you?”

  “What?” Her heart was still thumping rapidly, and her breathing was accelerated. She didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “There’s blood all over your shirt.” He placed his hand under her elbow and lifted. She couldn’t see around Elliott’s small body, but the side of her woven top felt damp and sticky.

  William turned his attention to her. “There’s some blood on Elliott’s shirt, too. But it doesn’t look like any of it is his.” He reached over to Quinn’s arm and gently pushed her shirtsleeve up to her shoulder. She heard the sharp intake of his breath, and Thomas stood, reflexively going to retrieve William’s medical bag. “What did you do?”

  “It must have been when the window frame bumped into my arm. I didn’t think it was too bad, though. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

  William raised his eyebrows. “It will when the adrenaline wears off. I’m going to need to clean it up a bit to see how bad it is. You’re definitely going to have some bruising.”

  She nodded.

  Thomas returned with the bag, setting it down near where they were standing. “Elliott,” he said softly, “can you come see me for a second, little man? We need to check on your friend here. She hurt her arm.”

  The little boy didn’t respond, but his grip on her tightened. She shook her head.

  William sighed, looking over at Thomas.

  “It’s not far … only a few minutes’ walk into Bay Run from here,” Thomas said. “We could take them to the clinic.”

  William nodded. “Do you think you can carry him, Quinn? It’s maybe five minutes.”

  “Yeah, I can.”

  “Okay. I want to get a bandage on your arm first, though, keep it from bleeding everywhere.”

  When he lifted her sleeve again, his anger returned.

  “What were you thinking climbing up there like that? You could have been killed!”

  The anger in William’s voice made Quinn feel defensive. “I was keeping this little boy from getting killed.”

  “That was a crazy, dangerous stunt. You had no business climbing up there like that.”

  She looked him straight in the eye, unfazed. “What was the alternative, William?” She glanced down at Elliott, who was staring at him with wide eyes, his arms tightening more than she thought possible.

  “You weren’t the only one here. We could have come up with a plan that didn’t risk your life.”

  “And what would that plan have been, William?”

  He didn’t answer for a minute; he just dug angrily through his bag. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know. That thing would have fallen on its own by now with this boy inside, and you ‘don’t know,’ but you want to yell at me for getting him out of there?”

  “Both of you could have been crushed.”

  “But we weren’t. We’re fine. Ow! Crap! Is that really necessary?”

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re fine, huh?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

  “Try a huge gash, Quinn. You should never have risked yourself like that.”

  “You said that already.”

  William was silent for several minutes before he spoke again. “We have to get this taken care of now … even the bandage I’m putting on it is going to bother all of these splinters. You can’t be doing that kind of thing here, Quinn. What if something happened to you? How would I explain that to your mother? We’re not in …” he stopped himself before he said too much in front of the boy. “You have to be careful.”

  In that instant, she saw right through his anger. She’d scared him. Biting back what she’d been going to say, she instead mustered a contrite look. “All right. I’m sorry.”

  William’s shoulders relaxed a tiny fraction. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he mumbled.

  As soon as William had a bandage wrapped around her arm as best he could with the child she held, the three of them began walking toward the village.

  It appeared through the trees more quickly than she expected, even though they had told her the walk would be less than five minutes. Only a few feet down the little path that led from the clearing, they came to the yard of the first house.

  Not for the first time during a stay in Eirentheos, she was reminded of a fairy tale as soon as she saw the little stone house nestled in among the trees. Its roof was made of heavy, well-kept planks. Vines wound their way up the walls, and flowers were everywhere.

  They were almost past the house on the small road they had been following, when the other two boys from the clearing ran up to them, Linnea following closely. Behind Linnea, both looking distraught, were a man and a woman.

  The way the man’s arm curled protectively around the woman’s shoulders told Quinn that they were a couple, but they didn’t look anywhere near old enough to be Elliott’s parents. She was actually fairly certain that both of them were around her own age. Regardless, as soon as they caught sight of Elliott they ran to him, and he finally relinquished his iron grip on Quinn’s neck in exchange for the young woman’s.

  “Thank you so very much, Your Highnesses,” the man said.

  “Please, it’s Thomas and William,” Thomas said, “and this is our companion, Quinn. She’s the one who helped get your … uh … son out of the tree.”

  “I’m Colin,” the man said, “and Elliott is my brother’s child. My wife, Lindsey, and I are caring for him at present.”

  “Where are his parents?” William asked. “Should we speak with them as well?”

  “My brother and his wife live in Philotheum,” Colin said. “They both felt that it was … safer for Elliott to stay here with us.”

  Quinn glanced questioningly at Thomas, but he only shrugged, frowning as if he were as confused as she was.

  “Well, Elliott is fine,” William told them. “He has some small scrapes, but nothing looks at all serious. The blood on his clothing is from my friend Quinn here. She took quite a risk saving your nephew today.”

  Both Colin and Lindsey turned their attention to Quinn, grateful looks in their eyes. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what we would have done if something had happened,” Lindsey said, kissing the boy on the cheek over and over.

  Once Elliott’s guardians had finally been sent on their way, William, Thomas, and Linnea continued leading Quinn into the village.

  They passed several more of the picturesque houses, and then, almost suddenly, the forest broke, revealing a bustling little town. They walked through two streets of houses, and then the next corner revealed a busy square in what appeared to be the center of the village.

  “It’s a Market Day,” Linnea told her, as they passed a number of little stands where merchants sold a wide variety of goods. Some stands held fruits and vegetables, while the aroma of spices Quinn couldn’t recognize drifted from others. One older woman’s stand held shelves and shelves of glass jars in every color; one next to hers sold jewelry.

  They didn’t pause long enough to really look at anything – William seemed determined to get Quinn to the clinic quickly. Fascinated at her surroundings though she was, she didn’t argue. Her arm was really beginning to hurt. She found herself holding her elbow, trying to keep their quick pace from jostling the injured limb. The bandage that he had wrapped around the bloody scrapes was becoming saturated, and more red splotches kept appearing on her shirt.

  Only one street over from the busy square, William stopped and began climbing the steps of a small house sandwiched between two others. She was confused, until she saw the small wooden sign that read “Bay Run Clinic” hanging from the wooden porch raili
ng. At the door, William knocked, but didn’t wait for an answer before walking in. Thomas and Linnea, who were right behind her, escorted her inside.

  Though the clinic was smaller than any she had ever been in, it was also distinctly familiar. The main room held two treatment areas, separated by low, wooden walls. Rough, heavy curtains that could be pulled around the beds hung from the ceiling. The room was empty when they entered, but a moment later a man appeared through a doorway that led to the back of the building.

  “William!” the man said, walking right up to him. He was probably in his late twenties, with sandy brown hair and kind, green eyes. “And Thomas and Linnea, too. What a surprise.” He turned his eyes to Quinn. “And this is?”

  “Our friend, Quinn,” William said. “Quinn, this is our dear friend, Robert, the doctor here in Bay Run.”

  “Very nice to … oh! What happened?” Robert asked, suddenly taking in Quinn’s bloodied shirt and the way she cradled her right arm.

  “She’s scraped up her arm pretty badly,” William said. “Can I borrow your clinic to take a look at it?”

  “Of course,” Robert said. “Anything you need.”

  While William explained what had happened to Robert, Thomas led her over to the first cot, and lifted her on to the crisp, white sheets. Linnea busied herself propping pillows up behind Quinn’s back.

  Robert stood near the edge of the bed and watched with interest as William began to unwrap the bandage. She winced when the gauze pulled at the gash, and she heard the collective intake of breath from everyone who was watching.

  After several long minutes of investigating and cleaning, each touch growing more painful, although she knew he was being as gentle as he could manage, William looked up at her with a serious expression on his face. “You really scraped this up, and it’s completely full of splinters. You’re going to need stitches.” He glanced over at Robert, who nodded, and walked over into a little room, which she guessed was probably a supply closet.

  She suddenly felt a little dizzy. “No. I’ll be fine. It’s just some scratches.”