by Jake Halpern
“You better come have a look at this,” said the woman, from the front of the cabin.
“How long was I asleep for?” asked Leif.
“A while,” she replied. “Quick, you should see this.” Leif hustled over to where she was standing. The woman was pointing down at the ground, at a narrow road, which was filled with people; they were swarming like ants, all heading in the same direction. “They must be refugees,” said the woman. “They are probably fleeing the droughts that the Shadow Tree is causing.”
Leif made no reply because he wasn’t looking at the road. He was looking off into a bank of clouds. He grabbed the binoculars to take a closer look. Something else had caught his attention. He was looking at a blanket of clouds which was pierced in a dozen places by pointy mountain peaks.
“What?” asked the woman. “What is it?”
“I think I recognize those clouds,” said Leif.
“What?” said the woman. “Recognize them from where?”
“From a drawing...” said Leif, mainly to himself. “The carvings...” Leif reached into his pocket and pulled out the page with the drawing of the obelisk. He studied the pattern that was carved into the obelisk again. Suddenly it all snapped into perfect focus. Those weren’t islands and rivers – they were clouds! And each of those curlicues represented places where the mountain peaks were jutting out of the clouds. “Look here,” demanded Leif, pointing at the drawing. “This pattern is actually a map – can you take us to the spot in the center where the hole is.”
“I don’t see what you are talking about,” said the woman.
“Look closely,” said Leif excitedly. “The pattern on the drawing of the obelisk with the curlicues mirrors the way those mountains poke through the clouds.”
“Yes, I see it!” said the woman. “Where did you get this?”
“Never mind, I will explain later,” said Leif. “Can you just take us to the spot where the hole is?”
“I think so,” said the woman. She began navigating the ship and consulting the drawing. Several minutes passed. Leif grew more and more excited. “Do you see something poking through those clouds over there?” asked Leif. “Right where the hole is on the map?”
The woman squinted her eyes. “Yes,” she said finally. “It looks like another mountain top.”
“No,” said Leif. “It’s too tall and slender. Get us closer!”
Leif squinted at the clouds, rubbed his eyes, and squinted again. Unless his eyes were deceiving him, he felt fairly certain that he was staring at the top of a pointy tower – an obelisk.
“There is a man standing at the top of that thing,” said the woman. “Do you see him?”
Leif squinted. The woman steered the aircraft closer yet. Leif now felt certain that he was staring at the top of the very same obelisk depicted in the prophecy. There was a narrow terrace on top and, sure enough, a man was standing there. The man appeared to be in his twenties. He looked, well... he looked an awful lot like Leif.
Leif frantically struggled to open one of the windows in the cabin. It screeched open. Leif stuck his head out. The aircraft was now just a hundred feet or so from the top of the obelisk. “Hello!” shouted Leif as loud as he could. The man on the terrace waved back excitedly. He appeared happy. Overjoyed. “I’m looking for my son,” screamed Leif. “I’m looking for Alfonso Perplexon.” It was a stupid thing to say. Leif had no reason to believe that the man even spoke English.
Moments later, however, the man called back and yelled a long solitary word: “DAD!”
Chapter 24: Time to Talk
Kiril could not sleep, which surprised him because he had always slept well, despite the many terrible things he had seen and done. While on the hunt or during battle, he could go several days with only bits of sleep here and there – and, of course, he often slept while marching or fighting, as all Dormians did – but what he treasured most were the rare times when he could sleep and simply sway in a hammock or sit in a chair and whittle with his knife. That was the greatest of all luxuries.
Tonight, however, was a different story. He had insomnia. The instant he lay in bed, his mind kicked into overdrive, thinking about Nartam. He replayed the events that had led to him telling one lie, and then another, and concluded that these lies would inevitably multiply. It was the nature of lying – with each successive invention, it becomes easier and easier to keep going. Nevertheless, Kiril believed it was right to have lied. What choice did he have? His bigger concern was the Shadow Tree. He could barely bring himself to look at it. And the way that Nartam talked about the tree, as if it were an extension of himself – it was very unsettling.
Eventually, after several hours of restless turning, Kiril gave up, dressed quickly and climbed to the deck of the massive man-of-war that served as Dragoonya headquarters and the living chambers for Nartam and his most trusted aides. There were several guards on the deck, but all of them appeared comatose, lost in a dream world created by the black ash. Kiril walked up to one of the guards and examined him closely. His eyelids were covered with ash. Kiril snapped his fingers in front of the man’s face and he didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. In the old days, the Dragoonya always used the ash in moderation because there was so little of it; now they had such an abundance of it, that even common guards were overdosing on the stuff – and while on duty! Kiril strode away from the gathering of lights in the forecastle and to the quarterdeck where Nartam lived.
He had to talk to him now, thought Kiril. If it wasn’t already too late.
Kiril wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to say it, but he knew that he had to speak frankly about the Tree. Kiril had seen the stockpiles of ash that his men had gathered. There was enough ash there, if used wisely, to last them a very long time. The tree had served its usefulness. Kiril was glad of that. Indeed, he had risked his own life many times so that the tree could be planted, but it had become a liability – worse than a liability it had become an insidious presence that was starting to affect the minds of his men and of Nartam himself.
Kiril was relieved to see that the guard stationed in front of Nartam’s door was awake and alert.
“Where is Nartam?” demanded Kiril.
“Down in the Great Cave,” said the guard. “Shall I send someone down with a message?”
“No,” said Kiril, “I’ll go myself.”
Twenty minutes later, Kiril was on the ground, trudging through the snow, making his way to the Great Cave. It was so cold out that the snowflakes on the ground had turned into dry crystals that swirled like sand beneath his feet. He walked as quickly as he could, face tucked into his jacket, eyes trained on the ground. Eventually, he looked up. The cold stung his eyes. And there it was. In between Kiril and the mouth of the Cave stood the Shadow Tree. The trunk of the tree was enormously thick – equivalent to that of a Great Sequoia – which seemed inconceivable, given that the tree had only been planted days ago. Its trunk was badly disfigured – studded with the stubs of old limbs that had been cut off and burned. The uppermost branches of the tree squirmed and wiggled like thousands of skeletal fingers that, all at once, had come to life and were grasping for something to grip.
Two guards stood at the base of the tree. It was impossible to tell if they were alert and doing their jobs or whether they too had taken the ash and lost their senses. “Hey there!” yelled Kiril as he approached the men. Neither of them responded or even budged an inch. As he drew nearer, Kiril could see that their eye sockets were dark with the stain of ash. “Wake up!” screamed Kiril. “You are supposed to be...”
Kiril never finished the sentence, because the two men both drew their swords at once and charged him. Kiril was so caught off guard, so totally shocked, that he barely had time to draw his own sword before the two men were upon him. The first guard lunged at Kiril wildly and Kiril parried his attack and deftly stepped out of the way so that the man crashed to the earth and nearly impaled himself with his own sword. The second guard was more cautious. He circled ar
ound Kiril and waited for his companion to get back on his feet.
“Drop your swords now,” growled Kiril, “Or I shall kill you both.”
The men said nothing. They seemed incapable of speech. One of them stared at him with dull, deadened eyes and the other was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. A long few seconds passed and then they both attacked Kiril at once. The guard who was closer, the one who was foaming at the mouth, lunged at him recklessly. Kiril turned sideward, swung his own sword with blazing speed, and cleanly took off the man’s head. Kiril barely had time to fend off the other man’s attack. He brought up his sword to block the guard’s thrust. There was a great clang of steel meeting steel. Kiril feinted left, then spun right, and slashed the man across his side. The guard howled in pain, dropped his sword, and fell to the ground.
Then there was silence. The only sound was the wind whistling through the branches of the Shadow Tree. Kiril looked up at the tree and then backed away as quickly as he could. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never felt so frightened in his life.
“What has happened?” yelled a frantic voice. Kiril looked up. It was Nartam. He was standing in the Mouth of the Great Cave and he too looked terrified. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” said Kiril wearily. “Fine.”
“Oh what a relief!” yelled Nartam. Kiril walked toward him. Kiril was amazed to see that tears were streaming down Nartam’s cheeks. “Thank heavens,” said Nartam with the worried voice of a father. “I feared something had happened to the Tree.”
Chapter 25: An Unlikely Guide
As his airship hovered alongside the obelisk, Leif didn’t know what to say. Leif was now just twenty feet or so from the terrace where the man was standing – the man who had called him dad. Leif could see him clearly. It was uncanny. The man was the spitting image of Leif. “Dad,” yelled the man again, “It’s me Alfonso!” Leif stared at the man uncomprehendingly. The man nodded, and his face took on a look of fierce concentration. The man looked as if he were about to pass a kidney stone. Then something miraculous happened. The man changed forms – shrinking in height by almost a foot – and then Leif found himself staring at a teenage boy who was, quite plainly, his son.
“As I live and breathe!” gasped Leif.
“Hold on,” yelled the woman, who was still steering the aircraft. She was far too busy working the ships’ controls to notice what had just happened. “I’m going to bring us as close as I can get.” She swung the ship around and docked it alongside the obelisk’s terrace and, as she did so, Leif opened the side door. Immediately, Korgu leapt to the opening and sniffed the air. For the last hour, the wolf had been on a state of high alert, and her whole body trembled with expectation.
Alfonso smiled at Korgu, climbed over the railing of the terrace, leapt through the door of the cabin, and followed his momentum right into the open embrace of his father’s arms. Leif nuzzled his nose into his son’s hair and smelled his familiar scent. It was his son – by God, there was no doubt about it!
Finally, reluctantly, Leif let his son go. Alfonso glanced around the cabin and then locked eyes with the woman. He recognized her at once.
“Colonel Treeknot?” said Alfonso, in disbelief.
The woman nodded.
“But how?” asked Alfonso.
“It’s a long story,” explained the woman. “Kiril left me for dead in the Fault Roads, but I managed to escape and make it all the way to the Lighthouse. I will tell you the whole story. It was just by chance that I...”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Leif. “What did you just call her?”
“Colonel Treeknot,” said Alfonso.
“What’s your first name?” demanded Leif, almost shouting at the woman.
“Why does it matter?” asked Colonel Treeknot.
“It means everything!” said Leif breathlessly. “What is your first name?”
“Nathalia,” she replied finally.
“I don’t believe it,” said Leif quietly, almost to himself. “You are C.N.T.”
Several floors below, Marta and the children discovered an enormous stash of food. There were rows of giant wooden crates filled with rice, flour, sugar, salt, dried mushrooms, and dark brown biscuits. There were large vats of olive oil and huge casks of wine. And there were countless shelves stacked with jars of pickles, jams and preserves. The children from the village, who had been living on the brink of starvation for as long as most of them could remember, were now gorging themselves. Marta tried to stop them, warning them that they would get sick, but it was a lost cause; and so eventually she gave up and joined the meal.
After the feast, everyone headed back upstairs to the observatory, and Marta was flabbergasted to find Alfonso speaking with two adults – a man and a woman – who appeared to have materialized out of nowhere. “Who are they?” asked Marta.
“This is my dad,” explained Alfonso happily. “And this is Colonel Nathalia Treeknot.”
“Where did they come from?” asked Marta, still in a state of shock.
“We came by airship,” explained Nathalia. She went on to relate a few of the details of their journey. As she spoke, Alfonso was – at the very same time – trying to tell his dad everything that had happened to him since they had been separated in Jasber. For the time being, Leif said little about his own adventures; he didn’t want to overwhelm his son and, besides, he was mainly concerned with Alfonso’s well being and how exactly his son now magically seemed able to change forms, shifting at will from a teenager into a fully-grown man.
“It’s the green ash from Jasber,” explained Alfonso. “Ever since I got it into my eyes I have been able to morph my body like that. I’m just like Marta now. She calls us ‘agelings.’”
“Agelings,” said Leif uneasily. He was frowning. It was a strange concept, brought on by a substance that Leif did not understand but feared completely. Unfortunately, it appeared as if this ageling complication wouldn’t be going away. And to make matters stranger, Alfonso’s eyes had become very pale, almost white. It made him look possessed.
“It’s all right,” said Alfonso reassuringly. “I feel good.”
“And what about you?” asked Alfonso.
As he said this, Nathalia and Marta abruptly stopped talking and an awkward silence followed.
“I think I should probably answer that question first,” said Nathalia. Nathalia paused and looked around. The children all around them looked exhausted. Most of the children had dropped to the floor and were either sitting quietly or were already asleep on one of the observatory’s old dusty carpets. “Let’s go over here,” she said, motioning to a far corner of the observatory where there was a desk, a few chairs, and a large bookshelf stacked with maps. “This way we won’t disturb the kids.”
Alfonso, Leif, and Marta followed her over toward the desk. Nathalia took a seat in one of the chairs. “So,” said Nathalia, “I realize I have some explaining to do.” As she said this, she was trembling slightly. Her forehead was covered with sweat and she looked as if she might have a fever. Leif looked at her with concern.
“Are you okay?” asked Leif.
“I’m fine,” said Nathalia.
“Are you sure?” asked Marta.
“I have a few wounds,” explained Nathalia. “I may have an infection and that explains the fever. But I’m fine. Truly I am.”
“What happened to you?” asked Alfonso.
Nathalia sighed, settled into her seat, and proceeded to tell her story. She explained how her uncle, Josephus, lured her down to the Fault Roads by lying – insisting that he had permission from the Grand Vizier to escort Kiril all the way to Jasber. “He seemed so confident,” recalled Nathalia bitterly. “By the time we reached the Hub, I knew we had a serious problem.” As she recalled it, Josephus’ plan quickly fell apart at the Hub when they were attacked by an army of monstrous creatures – known as zwodszay – who succeeded in killing all of Nathalia’s knights. Kiril, Nathalia, and Josephus passed through the J
asber Gate but, shortly thereafter, Kiril escaped and left her and her uncle for dead. After that, a gang of zwodszay attacked repeatedly and, in the chaos, Nathalia and Josephus were separated. “It took me almost three weeks to claw my way out of those Fault Roads – eating bugs, drinking from stagnant puddles, and inching my way along those cliffs,” said Nathalia grimly. “After that, I managed to row to the lighthouse where I found Misty and Clink and they nursed me back to health.”
“And the flying ship?” asked Leif.
“It belongs to Clink,” replied Nathalia. “It came with the lighthouse. I guess the previous owner used the ship to fish, or to fly from the lighthouse back to shore, or something like that – I’m not really sure – but I told Clink that I would use it to try to fly back to Somnos. Then I got caught in that storm and I ended up tangled up in the trees, which is where...”
“Where you met me,” finished Leif.
“Yes,” said Nathalia.
“Okay,” said Alfonso, nodding his head slowly, trying to grasp everything that had just been said. “But wait a minute. Dad, why were you up in the treetops?”
“If you can believe it,” said Leif, “I had just finished visiting a library.”
“Library?” said Alfonso. “What?”
And so then it was Leif’s turn to tell his story. He told them everything, yet when it came to reading Alfonso’s prophecy, he hesitated. How much should he tell his son? Was it wise to say anything at all? Should he lie?
“What is it?” asked Marta, sensing his uneasiness.
“Yeah what’d you find there?” asked Alfonso.
“Nothing,” said Leif, as he shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
