by Jake Halpern
What no one saw at the time was that, at the very moment that the giant eyeball opened, the stone tree instantly transformed itself; indeed, all of the many doorknob-like bumps on the tree’s stone bark slid outward and formed a series of curved steps that wrapped upward around the trunk of the tree like a magnificent spiral staircase. After free falling downward for a hundred feet or so, Nathalia landed with a sickening thump on one of these steps. Korgu simply seemed to vanish.
Alfonso was the first to see where Nathalia landed. He raced down the steps as quickly as he could, practically leaping the entire way. As soon as he reached her, he knew that she was gravely injured. Her body lay in a crumpled mass and her breathing was quick and shallow.
“I’m going to pick you up,” Alfonso told Nathalia. “We’ll go back up. Don’t worry. Everything is fine.”
She smiled slowly. “That’s what I would have said,” she whispered. “No, I can tell. It’s too late... too late for all that.”
“I won’t leave you.”
“Yes... yes you will,” she wheezed.
Alfonso heard a pattering of steps from below. Something was coming up the stairs. He turned to see what it was – it was Korgu. Apparently, she had landed a flight or two below with no obvious injury. But now the wolf was growling and yelping loudly. Alfonso’s heart sank. He knew what it meant. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he heard a series of high-pitched growls and yips. The fog wolves were coming up the stairs. There wasn’t much time. No wonder it was impossible to survive in the forest by climbing the trees. The trees were alive, and when they wished to, they allowed the fog wolves to climb up and grab anyone who was hiding in their branches. It was a perfectly symbiotic relationship, and in this case, it meant that the fog wolves were probably less than a minute away. There was no time – for anything.
“I’m so sorry,” gasped Nathalia. “So sorry, so sorry...” Her eyelids fluttered for a moment and then her eyes went lifeless. Alfonso felt her pulse.
She was gone.
The first wolf appeared on the steps just below them. It was perfectly white, down to its claws. Only its nose and eyes were another color – jet black. In another context, the wolf would have been considered beautiful. It looked at Alfonso, Nathalia and then Korgu with great interest. Alfonso became momentarily hopeful. Perhaps a miracle would happen and the wolves wouldn’t attack. This hope was dashed seconds later when the wolf sprang towards Alfonso. In the blink of an eye, the wolf had covered the ten feet separating them and had slashed its fangs into Alfonso’s shoulder.
Alfonso screamed and fell to one side, his legs coming up to protect his core. Korgu launched into the wolf and tore open its neck. The mortally-wounded wolf clung to Korgu and the two of them began tumbling down the stairs. Korgu was much bigger than her foe and the fight was over quickly. The fog wolf’s bloody body fell down several more steps, directly in front of the main pack. At least twenty of them seemed to be crowding the stairs, and only Korgu prevented them from rushing Alfonso. Korgu let out a tremendous howl, and lunged towards them. The wolf pack was confused by the death of their leader, and retreated. Korgu continued to chase them down the steps.
By this point, Alfonso was standing, and realized that Korgu had bought them a few precious minutes, but not much more. He pushed Nathalia over to the side of the stairs, in a vain hope that her body would be protected. Then he spun around and began sprinting back up the stairs. At the knothole, he told Leif and Marta about the situation – that Nathalia was dead, and Korgu had bought them a little time before the fog wolves came back. Father and son locked eyes. Nothing was said, but they both knew how dire the situation had just become. Marta stood on the steps with her crossbow pointed downward.
“We’ll have to use hypnogogia to climb across the fog,” said Alfonso hurriedly. “My dad and I will carry you, Marta. We’ll have to go slowly, but we can still make it to Dargora.”
“No!” said Leif. Then he struggled to regain his calm. “Son, you have to listen to me,” said Leif. “You can’t step foot in Dargora.”
“It’s too late for that now dad,” said Alfonso. “You must see that. Nathalia is dead. She can’t fulfill the prophecy.”
“Please,” said Leif. He took a step toward his son. Alfonso turned and locked eyes with Marta. She knew implicitly what he was asking. From below, they could hear the sound of the fog wolves coming. Leif took another step toward Alfonso and extended his arm. Alfonso spun around so that he was facing the foggy abyss and crouched as if he were preparing to dive off the tree. Leif grabbed at Alfonso’s coat, but Alfonso roughly broke his father’s hold. He sprang off the ledge, headfirst, and plummeted down into the fog below. As he fell, he relaxed his mind and let himself slip into hypnogogia. Meanwhile, up above, Leif leaned over the edge and screamed for his son. He did not turn back or even respond.
The howling of the wolves was loud now – the beasts were almost upon them.
“Get up!” screamed Leif. “There may still be time to catch Alfonso!”
Marta stood up, for once playing the role of the obedient nine-year-old. She had seen this moment coming and had always been unsure of how she would act. If Alfonso went to Dargora, he would die. But if Leif prevented him from going, the world around her would die. It was an impossible choice. In the end, she couldn’t make up her mind, and so she did nothing – which made her feel wretched.
Leif grabbed her by the hand, holding her as tightly as he could, and yanked her off the steps. Leif and Marta soared downward, hand in hand, like a pair of cliff divers. As the wind rushed through his hair, and roared in his ears, time seemed to slow down for Leif and his mind raced backward in time. He recalled having a similar feeling, of the cold wind blowing in his face, on the day that Alfonso was born. At the time, he was riding his motorcycle to the hospital with Judy, pregnant and very much in labor, riding alongside him in a sidecar. Leif remembered other things about that day as well. He remembered wearing the bright blue scrubs that the hospital staff had given him and he recalled holding a scrawny, kicking Alfonso in his arms. He remembered how small Alfonso’s fingers were and how downy soft his hair was. He even recalled the smell of the Lysol that the hospital janitors used to clean the linoleum floors. Then, like that, he was back in the present moment – free falling.
The last image that Leif saw before entering hypnogogia was of his son, almost a quarter mile in the distance, running across the top of the fog. The moon lit up the sky in hues of silvery light. Alfonso was moving so quickly and with such grace. Leif knew that he had to keep his son in sight. Alfonso had the compass – which was leading him directly to the Shadow Tree – and therefore he knew where he was going. Leif did not. Leif did, however, know what his son planned to do. Leif also knew – with every fiber of his being – that no matter the cost, he would stop him.
Chapter 37: A Strange Disappearance
Hill and Bilblox quickly returned to Naomi and Resuza. The girls had hunkered down in a makeshift snow cave and were well camouflaged. Despite knowing the exact location where they parted company, it still took Hill and Bilblox several minutes to come upon them. But even then, they only found them when Naomi let out a cry and abruptly stood up.
As they approached, it became clear that Naomi had been crying. Resuza had as well.
“What happened?” Hill asked.
“Nothing,” Naomi quickly replied. “And that’s the problem. Nothing ever happened for years and years and years.”
Hill looked at Resuza. Her face was white and looked cold. She shook her head, warning Hill not to pursue this conversation any further.
“Enough,” Bilblox interjected. “I don’t care what’s goin’ on. We gotta get some shelter. We’ll die out here in the next few hours if we don’t find some place away from the wind.”
He turned to Naomi. “You know a place nearby, don’t you?”
Naomi stared questioningly into Bilbox’s eyes, as if she was unclear what he meant.
“Yes,” she finally re
plied. “I know of a place. It’s very protected and we’ll be safe there.”
“Do we have to cross the moat?” Hill asked.
Naomi shook her head. “It’s on this side. We can’t attempt a crossing today. Not enough time.”
“Let’s go,” replied Bilblox.
Naomi turned right and began blazing a path that ran parallel to the Petrified Forest and directly into the wind. Bilblox followed immediately behind, as did Resuza. Hill, on the hand, held back at first. Something about this scene felt wrong to him. There were conversations going on that he didn’t understand. They were conducted in glances and nods, and he had no idea what was about to happen. All his instincts, however, told him to beware.
And yet, what choice did he have? Bilblox was right – to stay exposed to the weather meant death. Hill made his choice. He pressed a hand against his coat pocket to confirm the Pen was still there, and he ran to catch up to the other three. As he ran, he thought of Bilblox again and wondered what had happened while Bilblox was in Dragoonya captivity. Truth be told, he had the same question about Naomi.
They pressed onward for what seemed like a very long time. The sun wavered just above the polar horizon for a half-hour, and then quickly retreated. Darkness fell upon the arctic and quickly grew deeper. And worst of all, the wind grew in ferocity as Hill, Bilblox, Resuza and Naomi trudged onward. To Resuza, it felt like they had been walking for days. Her body ached from head to toe. Even her eyelashes felt heavy. Ice, covered each individual strand, but the effort it would take to wipe off the ice seemed too much, and so Resuza kept walking, barely able to see, hoping for relief.
Naomi led the way steadily, as if she knew exactly where she was going. Bilblox and Resuza followed closely behind, while Hill brought up the rear. It was difficult to tell how much time had passed when Naomi stopped at the base of what appeared to be a small cliff. Above them, the exposed rock swirled with snow. Neither Hill, Resuza nor Bilblox could see anything resembling a cave. “What now?” shouted Bilblox. Naomi kept walking towards the cliff face; at the last minute, she turned sideways and then disappeared into the rock. Resuza started after her immediately, realizing that her sister had found a narrow passageway in the cliff. It was so narrow that it was impossible to enter by walking forward. The only way to enter was by turning and walking sideways. Resuza entered the passageway and caught only a glimpse of Naomi about ten feet in front of her.
Just outside, Hill looked at Bilblox.
“It looks like they’re going straight into the cliff,” said Hill. “No offense, but you should probably go first. Just in case you can’t make it and you need someone to pull you out.”
Bilblox nodded.
“Listen,” said Bilblox, “About the Pen...”
“Not now,” said Hill. “Get inside first.”
Bilblox shrugged, walked over to the opening, turned sideways, sucked in his stomach and pushed his way into the narrow passage. It was a tight fit, but he knew he’d make it as long as it didn’t get any narrower. Hill followed Bilblox through the passageway. Hill had always been somewhat claustrophobic – and this was almost unbearable for him. Hill’s chest seized up and he tried to stop thinking that about the stone walls pushing against his body from both sides. Sweat appeared on his face and gathered along his scalp. By the time the passageway ended and he stumbled into the large cave, Hill was breathing heavily. He sunk to his knees to gather himself.
Resuza ran to his side. “Are you OK?”
Hill nodded, but it took several minutes before he could say anything. In that time, he sat on the cold stone floor and took in his surroundings. The cave was large and stretched for hundreds of feet in every direction. The ceiling was relatively low compared to the width and length of the cave. It was perhaps thirty feet tall and covered in a sheen of thick ice. The supplies that Bilblox had with him apparently included a number of candles, because the others had already lit half a dozen of them and placed them in a wide circle. The flickering light reflected off the ice-covered ceiling and walls and caused the cave to look brighter than Hill thought possible.
Naomi grinned. “There’s no heat, but it will work for the next few hours,” she said. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Resuza nodded. “You did great,” she said with a smile.
It took several minutes for everyone to settle down on the floor comfortably. Bilblox dug into his bag of supplies and handed out several heavy fur cloaks. They were all exhausted and lay on the floor of the cave in silence. Hill vowed not to fall asleep and as his eyes grew heavy, he told himself he would just rest for a moment; but soon he fell into a heavy sleep. He awoke some time later with a start. He lay in place, listening, before moving or talking. A vague premonition unsettled him and he sat up. The candles still burned, but they were almost out, and the light had retreated to a small circle around their group.
A crack, like someone stepping on thin ice, echoed in the distance. Hill reached into his shirt pocket for his Pen. It was there. He lay there motionless for several more minutes, but heard nothing. One by one, the candles began to burn out. Hill sat up.
There was another crack.
Hill took the Pen out of his pocket and unscrewed it. Then, as quickly as he could, he grabbed the last candle, which was still flickering weakly, and placed the upper chamber of the Pen over the candle. A flame leapt from the candle into the barrel of the Pen and, like that, the Pen was lit like a small burner on a gas stove. Hill screwed the Pen back together. It was armed. Hill looked around nervously. Resuza and Naomi were still lying on the ground asleep. Bilblox, however, was sitting up and staring at him with a curious look on his face.
“Hill,” whispered Bilblox.
“Yes?” whispered Hill.
“There is one thing you must always remember about me,” said Bilblox. “I am always loyal to my true friends. Please remember that.” Hill furrowed his eyebrows, in a look of confusion. Then Bilblox whistled – a loud piercing whistle that echoed through the cave. Moments later, Hill heard the sound of several bodies charging through the darkness, rushing toward him.
Betrayal.
Hill didn’t hesitate. He whipped out the Pen and pressed the emerald embedded on the top of the device. Hill pressed as hard as he could. There was a loud click. A second later, a raging blast of fire exploded from the tip of the Pen and surged across the cave. Yellow and red flames exploded like fireworks. Hill shielded his eyes and half-expected to be burned to a crisp. Suddenly men were screaming, a putrid burning smell filled the air, and the entire cave was illuminated in a brilliant light. Small fires were burning everywhere. Several men were rolling on the ground, trying to extinguish the flames that covered them. Bilblox, Naomi, and Resuza were on their feet shouting at one another. A large number of Dragoonya soldiers, perhaps fifty in number, surrounded them. Most were armed with crossbows and Cossack cavalry rifles. Hill prepared to use the Pen again, and had almost pressed the button, when he heard a familiar voice call out...”
“Don’t!”
Hill looked – it was Kiril. He stepped forward slowly, making no sudden moves.
“I have another two hundred men outside,” said Kiril. “You can’t fight your way out of this cave. Please be sensible.”
Hill looked at Bilblox for a quick moment. His face was a mask, but he thought he detected the tint of shame on the longshoreman’s face.
“Give me the Pen,” said Kiril calmly.
Hill did nothing.
“We don’t have time for games,” said Kiril. “I’ll count to three.”
Again Hill looked at Bilblox. He was mouthing something. Hill couldn’t quite make out the words. Meanwhile, Kiril had begun his count.
“One,” said Kiril.
Hill looked at Kiril.
“Two,” said Kiril.
Hill looked back at Bilblox and this time he could make out what Bilblox was saying: Give me the Pen.
“Three,” said Kiril.
Hill spun quickly and tossed the Pen in a hi
gh arc towards Bilblox. Several Dragoonya soldiers lunged forward just as the Pen landed in Bilblox’s outstretched hand. Bilblox moved his fingers quickly and the Pen began to whirl, spinning and flickering in a mesmerizing dance across his fingertips. Bilblox moved the Pen so quickly through his fingers that it took everyone several seconds to realize the Pen had vanished into thin air.
Chapter 38: The Chase
Alfonso sprinted for hours and hours across the thick, billowy layer of fog that covered the Petrified Forest. He didn’t dare look down at his legs, for fear of losing confidence in them. He began to feel short of breath, then nauseous, and finally he lost his concentration and slipped out of hypnogogia for a moment; as he did, he felt himself drop downward, the way an airplane does when it hits a patch of rough air. Focus! He had to maintain his focus and stay in hypnogogia. He regained his concentration briefly and then again felt himself slipping. He needed to get down to the ground right away. Cold, damp winds blasted his face. He felt as if he were at the base of a waterfall, struggling to stay afloat as a torrent of icy water beat him down. He was falling now – all he could do was try and check his momentum – as he plummeted downward and ultimately crashed into a bank of snow.
Alfonso clawed his way to the surface, gasping for air, and finally collapsed in a fit of exhaustion. He took a while to catch his breath. Oddly, he felt warm, as if he were lying in front of a roaring fire. It was the realization that he might soon freeze to death that finally spurred him to sit up. He shivered violently and looked around. Although still night, the reflected light of the stars through the fog bank was enough to make the area visible. It was a moonscape, devoid of anything living. Far off in the distance, behind him, Alfonso could see a shadowy curtain or wall cutting across the horizon. This was almost certainly the Petrified Forest. In front of him, he saw only rolling dunes of snow and outcroppings of bare rock that glittered with ice. He saw nothing resembling even a shack, much less the mythical city of the Dragoonya.
