Seeing the distrust in the people’s faces, Willow touched Tristan’s shoulder and whispered, “Can you please be the one to lead them to the lake? I don’t think they are going to trust Raz quite yet, if you understand what I’m saying.”
Tristan glanced at Raz who gazed back at him with an unreadable expression and then gazed at the refugees. He let out a sigh and yelled to the crowd, “Everyone, follow me. Let’s move as quickly as you can manage. We’re going to a place that will heal you.” He turned and waved for them to follow. As he passed Willow, he whispered, “I’ll race back as quickly as I can. Be careful!”
Raz glanced at her with a worried look. “Many people are here. Wildling scouts will be calling the Collectors to drag them away. To turn them.”
She didn’t need to ask, Willow already could sense that the wildling’s motivations weren’t to kill. In some ways, it seemed like a fate worse than death, becoming one of them.
Willow watched the crowd lumber after Tristan. Raz moved closer to her and she patted him on the shoulder, motioning to the east. “Well, we can’t let that happen. Let’s race ahead and see if we can find any others.”
As Willow loped with Raz scrambling behind, she thought, “Isn’t it ironic that these people are more willing to follow the son of the person who put them in exile than someone who looks a bit scary to them. I suppose that’s what happens when we judge others by the way they look.”
After encountering another fifty refugees and sending them west, Willow and Raz continued further along the concrete barrier and heard the first signs of more survivors from the Dominion’s purge.
A woman screamed and others were yelling just as Willow spied wildlings attacking a huddled group of forty or so people.
Nocking an arrow to her bow, she raced ahead and aimed at a group of wildlings dragging a man into the forest. Raz ran toward the humans who were fighting barehanded against ten wildlings.
One wildling fell, an arrow sprouting from the back of its head, and the man he’d been dragging away attacked the other wildling.
Willow let loose another arrow, killing the wildling at the edge of the forest and ran to help Raz.
With only three arrows remaining, Willow made each one count before drawing forth her dagger and yelling to the refugees, “Run to the west. Stay here, and you’ll die.”
The world seemed to slow as adrenaline raced through Willow. The beat of her heart thudded in her head as her vision focused with crystal clarity on her opponents.
Willow dove at the group of wildlings, viciously swiping her dagger across the back of one large creature’s legs. Her dagger parted flesh as if it weren’t even there, and as the blade met the sinew, she felt the rope-like tendons snap as they parted under the razor-sharp knife.
Some of the men lingered, uncertain if they should help. Willow glared at them, blood dripping from her hands. “Go west now, or die!”
The last refugees fled as Willow turned to her opponents.
Her eyes widened with shock as Raz shattered one of the wildling’s legs with a vicious kick.
He’d always been fleet-footed, but she’d secretly worried that despite his good intentions, he’d be more of a burden than help against other wildlings.
Willow stared, almost trance-like as she watched Raz’s fluid movements, like those of a dancer.
He launched a kick at one wildling that was nearly six-feet tall, yet the whip-like flick of his kick had enough power to twist his opponent’s head to the side, snapping its neck.
A loud roar echoed somewhere in the distance, and Willow’s heart sank as a dozen more wildlings charged from the forest.
Willow ducked under a club that whooshed over her, wielded by a wildling she’d not seen approach from behind. With a spinning back kick, she crushed its ribcage, expelling whatever air remained within its lungs and sent it flying backward.
Raz yelled a warning and as Willow turned, her vision instantly blurred as her face was covered with a sticky substance.
She lashed out with a punch and felt her knuckles and ring connect with something bony.
Wiping her eyes, she felt a tingling sensation all along her body, and for a split second, she spied the glint of her gold ring.
She thumped it three times with her thumb, and as her limbs froze, her mind’s eye opened launching her out of her own body.
Hovering above herself, Willow saw her body fall backward. A giant clicker stood over her, nearly eight-feet tall.
It all began to make sense. That monstrosity must have successfully spewed its paralyzing spit all over her.
Willow floated above the scene and just as the clicker bent over her, Tristan jumped onto the creature’s back, plunging his dagger deep into its back.
The clicker roared and spun violently, launching Tristan twelve feet away from it.
Willow watched Raz continue to fight against an overwhelming number of wildlings. He showed fighting skills that were beyond even her own abilities. He sent a kick at one wildling, ducked under another’s swinging club, and leaped at a third opponent, connecting with a devastating backfist.
Tristan rolled away just as the clicker stomped heavily on the ground where he’d fallen.
The pale skin where the hideous monster’s eyes should have been, pulsed constantly, making the clicking noise it depended on to see things.
With Tristan’s dagger still sticking from the creature’s back, Willow watched the clicker glance back and forth between the melee involving Raz who was fending off seven wildlings at once and Tristan who was stalking it.
Tristan dove at the monster, slashing at its leg, scoring a hit, just as a vicious slap launched him backward.
The clicker snarled and raced toward Tristan, who’d managed to fall into a crouch.
Just as the creature reached for Tristan, Willow watched him throw his dagger into the monster’s face.
Hovering over the fight, Willow watched the events unfold in slow motion. The dagger spun end-over-end, embedding itself deeply into the fleshy part of the clicker’s pulsing forehead.
Raz yelled a warning, but it was too late.
The monster roared as blood sprayed from the wound, covering Tristan.
Tristan stared at the clicker, facial muscles convulsing and fell over as the creature collapsed on top of him.
Without warning, a streak of flame flew into the horde of wildlings Raz was fighting, burning a fist-sized hole through the chest of one of the wildlings.
Ramai entered the fray, racing into the wildlings. His pristine white robe fluttered in the breeze as the dwarf held what looked like a pair of playing dice in his hand. The dice began to glow fiercely, turning white, and only when the dwarf whipped the objects at his targets did they burst into streaks of white-hot flame, incinerating two more wildlings.
Suddenly a horde of werebits raced from the forest and engulfed the attacking wildlings. The screams and howls of dying wildlings echoed loudly as Willow saw flashes of blood-soaked fur and gobbets of torn wildling flesh drop to the ground.
Raz collapsed in a state of exhaustion as Ramai raced to Willow’s side, put a finger to her neck, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God, you’re alive.”
From a hidden pocket in his robes, Ramai withdrew something that looked like a dried berry. With a stick, Ramai pried open Willow’s mouth and crumbled the dried berry onto her tongue.
As he withdrew the stick, Willow’s mouth snapped shut and Ramai glanced in Tristan’s direction and shook his head.
Exhausted, Raz levered himself into a sitting position and feebly yelled a warning, “Blood. It’s deadly! Don’t touch it.”
“I know.” Ramai sighed and shook his head.
Grasping the foot of the clicker, Ramai pulled it off of Tristan and approached the young man’s corpse. “Poor boy. You weren’t here long enough to learn the true dangers of this world and how one combats them.”
Ramai’s hands began to glow as he held them over Tristan’s blood-soaked form.
Long seconds passed as the glow from Ramai’s hands engulfed Tristan. The reddish-brown blood bubbled and puffed into greasy black smoke and ash. The smell of sulfur permeated the air, and almost as soon as it had begun, Ramai stepped away from Tristan with a grim expression.
The soot-covered body no longer had any signs of the clicker’s blood on it. “At least now we can give him a proper burial.”
Suddenly, Willow felt her mind’s eye close and she lurched into a sitting position, gasping for breath. Her arms and legs tingled as their stiffness subsided and she spun toward Tristan. Gritting her teeth, Willow spied his lifeless form and something tore inside her, almost like when she’d lost her brothers.
A Prophecy Realized
Willow sat cross-legged by the lake and somberly watched as some of the recently-healed exiles from Lake Memphis dug a grave for Tristan. Growl sniffed at her face and she tilted her head away. He plopped next to her, resting his massive head in her lap, then let out slight whimper.
“I know.” She took a deep breath and stroked the coarse fur on Growl’s neck. “I never even got a chance to really know him. He did so much for me and never expected anything in return.” A hollowness grew inside Willow, and she choked back her sorrow and grief. “I’ll really miss him.”
Ramai crouched next to her and gently put his hand on Willow’s shoulder. “I find words useless at times like this, but he saved your life–and for that, I’ll forever be grateful.”
Willow glanced at Ramai with a surprised expression. “I thought you’d left.”
“I did. I’ve arranged for an escort for all of you to join us underground. Even with this lake, it isn’t safe up here. The dwarves will arrive as soon as they stabilize the bomb shelter from further collapse and figure out how to rig a ladder up that ventilation shaft you fell into. We’ll have to collapse it all once everyone is safe, we can’t risk any unwanted visitors.” He tilted his head toward Growl. “If he’s going to join us, then we’ll come up with a way to lower him safely.”
One of the refugees approached. He bore a somber expression as he wrung his hands together and gave Willow a curt bow. “Excuse me, but you’d asked me to let you know when we were ready for the burial.” Willow looked up at the man, briefly studied his face and her eyes widened with recognition. He was one of the elderly gentleman she’d talked to by the barrier. Not only had the healing bleached him like all the others, it had affected him in more significant ways. The man’s stooped posture had straightened, his wrinkled skin had taken on a smoother appearance and he walked with the spring of youth.
“Thank you.” Moving Growl’s head off her lap, Willow climbed to her feet and approached Tristan’s body.
Someone had washed the soot off his face and he looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping.
Willow wiped a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I’ll always remember you.” She bent over his lifeless form and kissed his forehead. A clink of metal drew her attention, and Tristan’s gold medallion slipped out from under his shirt.
Glancing at the medallion, she wasn’t sure if it was even the same one she’d seen at his mother’s home. Gone was the splayed hand she remembered being on one side. Cradling it in her hand, Willow noticed that the green and red enamel had partly melted away, revealing a tree-like etching underneath. She tucked the medallion back under his tunic and choked down the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
Raz let out a wheezing cry, eyes angry and bloodshot.
Willow reached down and held Tristan’s hand. She’d never touched a dead body before. The cool air had sapped Tristan of all his warmth. His flesh was cold, flaccid–nothing about it seemed alive anymore. It wasn’t right for him to be exposed like this, letting the foul air suck everything from him. It was time. She whispered a prayer over his body, “Let a thick blanket of soil keep him warm from now through eternity.”
Willow turned to an elf who was standing by her and nodded. “Please be gentle with him.”
With a shovel provided by Ramai, Willow watched as the last of the dirt was placed on top of Tristan. Ramai tried to comfort her by remaining at her side, but she turned and asked, “Isn’t it bad for you to be out here?”
Ramai shrugged, only his cheeks had gotten a shade redder than normal. “I find that the Forbidding’s sickness doesn’t extend fully to this lake. Unlike the areas in the woods or near the barrier, I barely find my skin tingling from being aboveground when I’m near this water.” He raked his fingers through his beard and hummed. “I’ll need to study that sometime. See if that can be used somehow.”
Raz, who hadn’t left the site of Tristan’s burial, sniffed at the freshly turned soil.
Willow waved to the wildling. “Raz, he’s gone. We’ll all be going to our new home soon.”
The wildling continued sniffing, but then left Tristan’s grave and headed toward the lake.
Willow turned to Ramai, “What’s he doing?”
Ramai shrugged as he stared at their enigmatic companion.
At the lake’s edge, Raz began raking his fingers through the soil, tossing clumps of dirt and mud behind him.
One of the elves yelled as he was hit by the flying debris.
Willow stared as Raz began digging a trough, creating a small channel of water that followed him from the lakeshore. Suddenly Willow realized what he was doing and just as she was about to step forward, Ramai grabbed her arm and held her back.
Ramai pointed at Raz. “Watch.”
Willow stared at the frantic wildling as he hurriedly dug a channel from the lake to Tristan’s grave. “What in the world is he—”
Suddenly, the water in the lake began to glow, and all of the elves gathered around the shore seemed to freeze, as if time had stopped.
Willow spied Raz bent with both of his arms in the channel of glowing water, and he let out a wheezing cry.
The ground vibrated and a voice resonated from deep within the lake.
“Done and done. Pact complete”
Ramai gasped and pointed at Tristan’s grave as a green shoot burst through the freshly turned soil.
The reed-like shoot thickened and grew taller, forming a sapling as the ground continued to shake.
Willow stared as the tree grew ever taller. Glancing at the others, the elves scattered across the lakeshore all remained frozen in time. Only Ramai, Raz and herself seemed to be moving.
The ground rumbled as the tree grew enormous, its branches spread out near the top of its forty-foot height, resembling a giant umbrella. It was like no other tree in the forest. As the tree sprouted leaves, Ramai gasped. “It can’t be ... the prophecy clearly stated that only the dreamwalker will be able to awaken the Asherah.”
“Asherah?” Willow struggled to remember where she’d heard the word.
“It comes from the prophecy of the tree of life.”
“Only she will be able to complete the pact and see the creation of an Asherah completed. A second hope to a world that has fallen from grace.”
Willow gasped as her mind raced back to that moment that seemed like a lifetime ago when she was in the rotting hulk of Tristan’s childhood home. “It was Tristan’s medallion. When I touched it for the first time, it cracked open....”
Ramai’s eyes widened. “Let me guess, it contained a seed.”
The shock of a tree sprouting from Tristan’s grave was almost too much for Willow. “It had hidden within it some kind of seed even he hadn’t known existed. It was only when I touched the glowing image of the splayed hand that the medallion had revealed its secret. The seed was nestled in a bed of raw wool.” Willow pointed at Tristan’s grave. “He was still wearing the medallion when he was buried.”
Raz let out a tortured scream. Willow turned to the wildling. Both of his hands were still buried in the water, and he was glowing with a light that rivaled the brightest flame.
Willow gasped as her mind’s eye opened, but instead of seeing herself from outside her body, someone else’s memories raced th
rough her.
She saw an image of her father reading a letter to her mother, as he grimly announced, “It’s about my sister. Arianna’s gone. Her shop has been emptied and it was as if she’d never been in New Memphis.”
The vision blinked away only to be replaced by an image of a dark-haired woman. Tears streamed down her face as she cried, “Father, how’d you find me? The governor will have you killed if anyone sees you.”
An old man’s voice whispered, “Hush child. I’m not long for this world, but Arianna–you’re my only daughter, and your brother has two boys already. The prophecy speaks of a female dreamwalker, it must be you. I know you say that you’ve not had the power, but these things sometimes happen later in life. The dreamwalker will help change the world for the better.” A thin arm extended with a clenched fist. The fist opened to reveal a gold medallion with a tree etched on the outside. “Keep it hidden from prying eyes. You’ll know what to do with it when the time comes. I know I’m endangering you, and that is why I’ll take my leave. Remember my flower, be true to yourself, but most importantly–stay alive, the fate of this wretched world will count on your decisions someday.”
The vision blinked away, being replaced by the roar of a clicker. The blurred images of trees flew past as the roar of the clicker became louder. The taste of fear coated Willow’s tongue as she felt her heart race, trying to escape whatever chased her.
Suddenly, the trees were gone and a lake lay directly ahead. The same lake that they all were standing next to. Diving deeply into the water, thin arms stroked, some of the radiation-damaged skin sloughed off and just as one of the hands reached at an underground boulder, the world turned white.
Water blurred the vision as a shadow loomed overhead.
A hand wiped away the water, revealing the shadow to be Ramai’s bearded face staring down with a shocked expression. A wildling’s arm reached up toward Ramai as the dwarf grasped its hand. Raz’s hand. “You’re not at all what you seem to be.”
Dispocalypse Page 27
