Shadow Tree

by Jake Halpern

  “Halt!” screamed Osoba at the top of his lungs.

  The woman broke into a run, charging the gate in a dead sprint. For a moment, Osoba and Uzależniona were too stunned to react. The woman was now a dazzling blur of motion. Uzależniona aimed his crossbow and started to squeeze the trigger. But before he could fire, the woman hurled the baby up into the air, and then dove into a somersault role. Half-horrified and half-stunned, Osoba gawked at the sight of an infant flying through the air. Then something totally astonishing happened; midway through the air, the infant changed forms, literally morphing into a nearly full-sized man. This newly-formed man landed on the ground gracefully, just a few feet from where Osoba was standing, and then kicked him in the head so quickly and so ferociously that Osoba flew backwards and was unconscious by the time that his body hit the ground with a heavy thud.

  After kicking the Dragoonya guard in the head, Alfonso spun around quickly to make sure that Marta was okay. She was fine. In fact, she was standing over the body of the other Dragoonya guard, the one who had shot at her; he too was now slumped on the ground, knocked unconscious. Marta had the man’s crossbow in her hand.

  “Do you know how to use this thing?” asked Marta.

  “Sure,” said Alfonso. He took the crossbow, aimed it, put his finger on the trigger, and indicated that this is what you squeezed to fire the weapon. “Can you do that?”

  Marta nodded somberly, and Alfonso remembered, that despite her appearance, which was still that of an elderly woman, she had only been alive for nine years – almost all of which she had spent sitting in a chair on a remote island.

  “Be careful with it,” said Alfonso, as he handed it back to her.

  “Don’t talk that way to me,” said Marta, “I’m old enough to be your grandmother.” Marta smiled and her face was a leathery contortion of a thousand wrinkles. The old lady’s face then morphed slightly, becoming even more shriveled and wrinkly, as if she had aged five more years in the span of three seconds.

  “Cut it out,” said Alfonso, “You know I hate it when you do that.”

  “Come on,” said Marta teasingly, “Lighten up.”

  “Yeah sure,” said Alfonso with a smile, “But please grow back some teeth – you’re freaking me out grandma.”

  Marta closed her eyes and morphed again into the form of a woman in her mid twenties – tall, lean, and very athletic. She was quite pretty and it was bizarre to Alfonso that the little girl, the pretty twenty-something, and the old woman were all Marta.

  “Come on,” said Alfonso, “Let’s see if we can find any kerosene.”

  Alfonso and Marta worked quickly to tie up and gag the guards. Then Alfonso grabbed a set of keys from one of the guards, and after fumbling with them for a while, used the keys to unlock the back door to the fort, which was a massive slab of steel on a set on three rusty hinges.

  The doors creaked open slowly. They paused for a second to listen, and continued through the gate into a huge room with stone floors, high vaulted ceilings, and a hearth with a large crackling fire. Along the perimeter of the room there were a series of jail cells, each of which was occupied by twenty or so prisoners. The prisoners were well-clothed, most of them were men dressed in furs, but their faces were so gaunt and desperate-looking it was soon apparent that they had not eaten in some time. Most of the prisoners were asleep, though a few stared hopefully at Marta and Alfonso. One of the prisoners, a short man with an enormous beard, stood up, walked over to the door of his cell, and opened it; amazingly, the cell was unlocked. The man whispered eagerly, “Have you come to take us to Dargora?”

  “No,” said Alfonso. “We’re not Dragoonya, we’re just...” Alfonso hesitated, uncertain of what to say.

  “Visitors,” said Marta, finishing his sentence.

  “What kind of visitors?” asked the bearded man skeptically.

  “The kind who don’t need to answer questions from prisoners,” said Marta as she raised her crossbow at the man.

  Alfonso had to suppress a smile; he was impressed. You didn’t mess with Marta.

  “Oh,” said the man with the beard. He sighed dejectedly, walked over to the fire, warmed his hands for a moment, and then returned to his cell. “No disrespect intended,” said the man. “I just fear we will all starve if we do not get there soon.”

  “What’s the difference?” asked another man in the same cell, whose face was hidden in the shadows. “They will work us to death soon after we arrive.”

  “No,” said the bearded man, “No one dies in Dargora any longer. Now that they have the ash.”

  The man whose face was hidden in shadows snorted, but made no reply.

  “Why are you here?” asked Alfonso. “If you want to go to Dargora, what are you waiting for?”

  “You can’t just cross the Petrified Forest on your own,” said the bearded man with a nervous laugh.

  “Why not?” asked Alfonso.

  “You’ll drown in the snow drifts,” said the man with the beard. “Either that or-”

  “Or what?” said the man, whose face was hidden in shadows.

  “Or the fog wolves will find you,” said the bearded man gravely. “They run through the forest every night to get their meat.”

  Marta and Alfonso exchanged glances.

  “I don’t get it,” said Marta, “Are you slaves then?”

  “Not yet,” said the bearded man. “We hope to be.”

  “Hope to be?” inquired Alfonso.

  “Yes,” said the man whose face was hidden in the shadows, “I have been asking myself the same question. For years we ran from the Dragoonya whenever they came on their raids, trying to capture us, and now we come begging to be taken. Ironic isn’t it?”

  “What choice do we have?” asked the bearded man. “Everything within a thousand miles of this place is dead.”

  “Including our wives and children,” said the man whose face was hidden in the shadows.

  No one spoke after that.

  Alfonso and Marta searched the premises further, and saw no sign of guards. It was a sign of how things had so quickly changed. In one corner of the main hall, they found a steep, spiral staircase that led to the smaller second floor.

  “What’s upstairs?” asked Alfonso.

  “Don’t know,” said the man with the beard. “I haven’t been up there.”

  “We’re looking for kerosene,” said Alfonso. “Is there any up there?”

  The man with the beard shrugged.

  “Come on,” said Alfonso. “Let’s have a look.”

  Marta shook her head.

  “Come on,” insisted Alfonso. “We’ll be quick.”

  Marta sighed and together they quietly climbed the staircase, pausing frequently to listen for any noise. It was quiet. Eventually, they reached a wooden door. Marta turned the doorknob and the door suddenly swung heavily towards them. As it did so, something heavy that had been leaning against the door fell onto them. Marta gasped and shrugged the weight off. It appeared to be the body of a large man. Alfonso ducked and stared mutely as the man tumbled down several steps until coming to rest. The man – dressed in the uniform of the Dragoonya – was dead, and had likely been so for several hours. Daggers stuck out of his back like thorns and around his neck were several long chains of gold and inset diamonds.

  “We should leave,” whispered Alfonso.

  Marta nodded.

  And yet neither one turned to go down the stairs. The doorway had opened into a small banquet hall lit dimly with a few candles. Marta took a step into the banquet hall, and felt Alfonso slide into the hall just behind her. It was so quiet that it seemed to be empty, until they saw about two dozen Dragoonya soldiers lying flat on their backs around a grand fireplace that contained only embers.

  Suddenly, something moved directly to Marta’s left. It was a skeletal-thin man with sickly, sallow skin. He grabbed Marta by the throat. The hand couldn’t quite clench her throat because it was twitching spastically – as if zapped by electricity
. The man’s hand continued to twitch until, in one especially violent spasm, all five fingernails popped off, like windows on a cheaply-made toy car. The soldier released Marta’s throat to look at his hand. In a nervous gesture, he ran his hand across his scalp, pulling out a huge clump of hair that peeled off as easily as Velcro. He cleared his throat, moved his tongue around his mouth, and spit out several horribly decayed, yellowish orange teeth.

  “That’s a rather nasty habit,” whispered Marta as she crunched up her nose. “Would you mind not doing that again?” Then she hit the man hard in the stomach. The man crumpled, dropping down to his knees. Marta had knocked the wind out of him and he was both stunned and gasping for breath. He was also staring at Alfonso. “We have... been... expecting you,” gasped the man. His lips were so horribly chapped that when he smiled, blood formed at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, yes... Lord Nartam... said you would... be coming.” The man reached out his hand quickly, but Alfonso struck first, punching the man squarely in the chest, causing him to fly backwards. Two more men, who were lying nearby, had also woken up and were now scrambling to their feet. Then both men fell to the ground. Alfonso spun around and saw Marta holding the crossbow.

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” said Marta with a trace of irritation in her voice. “But, no – the Great Sleeper always has to have his way.”

  A number of soldiers, who had been lying inert on the floor, were now also scrambling to their feet.

  “Run!” yelled Alfonso.

  Marta sighed, as if she were more annoyed than scared, and then said: “Yup, that sounds like a good idea.”

  Marta and Alfonso turned and ran down the stairs, with the yells and screams of the ash-fed Dragoonya right behind them.

  When they arrived at the main hall, the would-be slaves clamored out of their cells. The bearded man was the first among them. “Good heavens,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  “Good news,” shouted Marta. “We’ve spoken with the Dragoonya and twenty of you fellows will be given the chance to be slaves – the first twenty to reach the top of the stairs.”

  “I knew it!” shouted the bearded man. A tide of prisoners surged forward and began pressing up the stairs. The prisoners ran towards the group of Dragoonya who were just beginning to exit the stairwell. In the angry melee that ensued, Marta and Alfonso dashed out of the fort and headed back to the airship.

  As they ran, Alfonso couldn’t help but suppress a grin. “It really is a good thing we’re not getting married!” yelled Alfonso.

  “Why not?” yelled Marta.

  “Because you’d destroy me!” said Alfonso. “You’re a wrecking ball!”

  “Aw, come on now!” yelled Marta. “I’m just a nine-year-old pipsqueak, right? Besides, don’t be so happy. We didn’t find any kerosene back there and I think we just made those guys really, really mad.”

  Chapter 32: The Way Down

  Hill and Naomi had been hiding in the small utility closet for almost two hours now. The old wooden floor was cold and the air smelled of damp rotting rope. The room was dark, except for a faint glow of light emanating from the space between the floor and the bottom of the door. Hill sat, legs folded up against his chest, and stared at Naomi – studying her face, trying to discern what he saw in her eyes. When he had asked Bilblox whether they could trust her, Bilblox had replied simply, “You can trust me.” But what about her? Hill wanted to believe that everything would be okay, but his intuition told him something was amiss.

  “They’ve been gone a while,” said Naomi. She sounded worried.

  “I am sure they’re just waiting for the right moment,” said Hill as reassuringly as he could. “In a situation like ours, the natural tendency is to rush and to panic – but that’s exactly what’ll get us caught. We just have to be patient.”

  Truth be told, Hill didn’t know what was taking Bilblox and Resuza so long. They had left over two hours ago with the aim of finding a safe way down to the ground below. Naomi had told them that the Dragoonya used a primitive system of elevators, in which old rowboats were hoisted up and down via a system of ropes, pulleys, and counterweights. The elevators were self-operated. According to Naomi, you simply got into one of these rowboats and operated an old-fashioned winch to lower yourself down to the ground. The challenge for them, of course, was to do this without being seen by anyone. Naomi suggested that they hide somewhere – that somewhere ended up being the utility closet – and then wait for a quiet moment, when no one was watching, in which they could make their descent unnoticed. Bilblox said he’d be the lookout and Resuza quickly volunteered to go with him. This was smart, thought Hill, just so they made absolutely sure that Bilblox wasn’t leading them into a trap. You could never be too careful.

  “Tell me about the town where you and Resuza grew up,” said Hill in a whisper.

  “Why?” asked Naomi somewhat standoffishly.

  “Because I’m curious,” said Hill kindly. “And because sitting here in the silence isn’t all that much fun, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t really remember much,” said Naomi reluctantly.

  “What do you remember?”

  Naomi sighed deeply. “I remember that I lived in a round little hut – we called them gers – I don’t know what you would call them,” she said finally. “It was my parents, me, and Resuza. Dad herded reindeer. Mom, well, mainly she stayed with us.”

  “Your mother,” said Hill, “What was her name?”

  Naomi paused. The questioned seemed to rattle her. She became flustered for a moment and then her eyes grew moist. She struggled to regain her composure and then she uttered her mother’s name. “Yolanda,” said Naomi. “Her name was Yolanda.”

  “You were close?”

  “Yes,” said Naomi. “We had a good life until they came...”

  “The Dragoonya?”

  Naomi nodded.

  “How old were you?” asked Hill.

  “I don’t know,” said Naomi. “I couldn’t even say – not more than four years old I would guess. I can remember it though. I wish I didn’t, but I do. They burned the town with their torches. Sometimes I can still smell the scent of the rooftops burning. And I remember mom and dad lying in the street. I was too scared to move. That’s when Resuza left me.”

  Hill said nothing for a moment or two.

  “That must have been very hard on you,” said Hill finally.

  “It was,” said Naomi, so softly that Hill could barely hear her. “I’ll never forget standing there all alone, by myself, staring at mom and dad in the street. I kept calling out for Resuza, but she never came.”

  “She’s here now,” said Hill hopefully.

  “Yes,” said Naomi wearily. “I know.”

  There was a very long silence.

  “Please don’t blame her,” said Hill finally.

  “I don’t,” said Naomi. She pursed her lips and smiled slightly as she said this, but something about her smile made Hill very uneasy. Why is she lying? Hill again felt a feeling of foreboding. It was obvious that Naomi was bitter, but was she so bitter that she would betray her own sister? Resuza would never even consider such a possibility, but Hill had to.

  “Naomi,” said Hill, as tenderly as he could, “Resuza has been looking for you ever since that day. She spent her whole life trying to find you. I can’t image how hard it has been for you, and I have no idea what’s going through your head, but you mustn’t let your own hurt and pain lead you to do something that you will regret. Resuza is your sister – you’re joined by the bond of blood. You have to help her.”

  “That’s why I am here,” said Naomi slowly as if in a trance.

  “I think we both know why you’re here,” ventured Hill. “But it’s never too late to change your mind.”

  Hill paused after he said this, waiting and hoping that she would get angry and proclaim her innocence – but she made no reply.

  Just then the door to the closet swung open and Bilblox stuck his head in. “The coa
st is clear,” said Bilblox excitedly. “We gotta go now – come on.”

  Hill and Naomi followed Bilblox along the main deck of a small ship that looked as if once, long ago, it might have been a fishing vessel. When they came to the mainmast there was a small boat, known as a cockboat, rigged with ropes and pulleys and pressed into service as an elevator. Bilblox walked right past it.

  “Wait,” called Naomi, “Where are you...”

  Bilblox turned and gave her a fierce look, indicating that she should shut her mouth right this instant. Bilblox continued until he came to the pointy front of the ship, known as the bowsprit, and peered over the edge.

  “What now?” asked Hill.

  “Have a look,” said Bilblox.

  Hill and Naomi peered over the edge. There was a small rope ladder that dangled downward and dropped into another cockboat, this was one significantly smaller than the first, but also equipped with ropes and pulleys. Unlike the first cockboat, however, this boat was not rigged to drop straight down like an elevator; instead, it was attached to a long rope that made its way down to the ground – not vertically – but at a forty-five-degree angle, so that the boat would slant its way downward the way a gondola slopes down the side of a mountain. Resuza was already waiting for them in the cockboat.

  “It’s too small,” said Naomi.

  “No it’s not,” said Bilblox. “It’ll work – get in.”

  “This wasn’t the plan,” said Naomi.

  “The plan is whatever I say it is,” snapped Bilblox. “Now get inside.”

  Hill watched the two of them arguing. What was going on here? For a moment it looked as if Naomi was going to refuse to go with them, but finally she sighed, and scurried down the ladder into the cockboat. Hill and Bilblox followed.

  “How does this thing work?” asked Hill.

  “This thing here is the arm,” said Resuza pointing to a metal pole that shot up from the center of the cockboat like a mast. “It has wheels on top that run along the top of the main rope allowing the boat to descend like a cable car.” Hill nodded. “And you control your speed using this winch,” explained Resuza, as she pointed to a large wooden cylinder at the stern of the cockboat which was coiled with rope. “You just unlock the winch and the boat will slide down the line.”