by Jake Halpern
Hill climbed the tree slowly, taking his time. He had witnessed the fight between Alfonso and Nartam – it had occurred within earshot, in the branches overhead. He knew what had happened and he knew what he had to do. He was looking for one item in particular. It had fallen away during the fight, and Hill was reasonably sure it was lying somewhere nearby, caught by the thick web of gnarled branches. He looked methodically, and took advantage of a cloud-free sunrise. He climbed deliberately, stopping every few seconds to look in each and every crevice. He took his time and kept his calm.
And there it was.
The Foreseeing Pen was lying just where Hill had suspected it might be, in the branch just below where Alfonso and Nartam had been fighting. Hill walked carefully out along the branch until he picked up the Pen. After all these months of worrying to keep it safe, it was back again in his possession, and it would remain that way until the end. He carefully placed the Pen back in his pocket and continued to search.
Within a few minutes, he had gathered all the main pieces of Alfonso’s weapon – the Foreseeing Pen and broken shards from the wooden stick. He sat down cross-legged on the branch where the fight had occurred, and laid all the pieces out in front of him. This time, it was easy to fall asleep. Hill felt strangely calm, and the warmth from the branch helped as well. Within a minute, Hill’s eyes had closed and his hands immediately reached towards the items in front of him. And then the old watch repairer set to work.
Alfonso lay on his back, staring up at the tree. He and Resuza had landed a good distance from the actual base of the tree, but he could still see the higher branches. There were shouts coming from nearby. Feet were pounding the snowy ground. There wasn’t much time left. Alfonso summoned all of his strength and sat up. Resuza, who was by his side, helped him.
“Uncle Hill,” he gasped.
“Where?” asked Resuza.
“Look.”
Together they looked and saw, halfway up the tree, the unmistakable figure of Hill with a long stick in his hand. “No,” whispered Alfonso. “It won’t work. It has to be...” Again he considered the words of the prophecy: A Perplexon will succeed, but he will also die.
A Perplexon. Meaning, Alfonso Perplexon.
A sudden realization came to him. The “A” wasn’t an initial that stood for Alfonso. It was a figure of speech, as in a member of the Perplexon family – any Perplexon – even Hill.
Nartam stood on the ground, at the base of the tree, looking up its trunk. Something was wrong. He could feel it. His heart was pounding, his breathing was shallow, and despite the cold he was sweating. Moments later he felt his muscles go into spasms. It took all of his concentration to quell the spastic convulsions in his body. Then, once again, the tree began to shiver. It made no sense. What had he missed? Nartam looked up and, to his utter amazement, he saw someone on the branch he had just left. He stared closer.
“No!” Nartam roared.
Seconds later, the Dragoonya leader was racing back up the Shadow Tree at an astounding speed.
Chapter 53: Reunited
Leif stood next to Marta and waited anxiously. His feet were in chains, but his hands were free, and presently he was using them to hold a pair of binoculars up to his face. Marta stood next to him, unshackled; apparently, the Dragoonya did not see her as a threat, probably because she was now in the form of a girl. Leif was presently using the binoculars, searching the tree, frantically looking for his son, but what he saw instead was haggard middle-aged man that looked vaguely like himself. Was that Alfonso? After all, he was an ageling, perhaps he had morphed again. Somehow, however, Leif knew this wasn’t his son. It was just instinct, but he would know his own son – at any age. Then slowly a thought formed in his head. At first it seemed impossible, but then he felt increasingly certain. He was staring at his older brother.
“Hill,” whispered Leif. “My brother – he’s alive!” Leif could see the Foreseeing Pen glint in the morning sun. Leif shook his head. “What is he doing?”
As if in response, Hill smiled. He seemed to be looking directly at Leif from across the distance. Leif knew that his brother couldn’t actually see him, but for a moment it was as if he and Hill locked eyes – two brothers who hadn’t seen each other in decades, and had each feared that the other was dead. Was it possible that Hill saw him? Leif screamed his brother’s name. But it was too far away for Hill to hear Leif shouting and, even if he had, it would have had no effect. Hill was focused on one thing only. Hill was now holding a stick high over his head. Something shiny, which was attached to the end of the stick, gleamed in the morning light. It was the Pen. It had to be the Pen.
As he continued to watch the scene unfold through his binoculars, Leif noticed something moving up the tree – a teenage boy moving quickly, bearing down on Hill. Leif recalled hearing the Dragoonya soldiers talk about their king, a man named Nartam, who lived in the form of a boy. This had to be him. Nartam was almost upon him, when Hill took the stick and thrust it powerfully into the knothole on the side of the Shadow Tree.
Zig zagging lines – like cracks in a sheet of glass – formed across the surface of the knothole. The bark of the tree began to shatter into shards and the shards exploded outward like millions of pieces of shrapnel. Streaks of light seemed to surge up through the core of trunk; steam hissed through the bark; and those climbing the tree began to shriek horribly. The effect was terrible. Even the battle-hardened Forlorn Hope dropped to their knees. The ground shook so powerfully that those standing were thrown off their feet. Leif embraced Marta and together they dropped to the ground.
High up above in what remained of the tree, Nartam inhaled sharply – it was the last breath of a life that had spanned many centuries. And then the explosion came. The Shadow Tree and all those who ingested its ash – those who were clinging to its branches like babies cling to their mother – everyone disappeared in a blinding flash of white light. The sheer power of the Shadow Tree’s explosion sent a shock wave through the land. The pillars holding up the Dragoonya ships swayed and then toppled. The giant sailing vessels slammed into the frozen ground and shattered into splinters. The Shadow Tree consumed itself in a plume of wind, light and heat. The hoards of Dragoonya soldiers who had become addicted to the ash charged into the inferno like moths drawn to a flame. An invisible wave of explosive power rippled through the landscape, tore off the roof of the slave quarters and toppled many of the stone trees in the Petrified Forest. For hundreds and thousands of miles, the ground shook and everything alive was thrown roughly to the ground.
“Look!” shouted Marta. She was back on her feet. Leif struggled to stand up and, almost immediately, he saw what Marta was pointing at. Seconds later, Marta was running and screaming a name. Alfonso! Alfonso! Alfonso! Marta churned through the snow, her lungs bursting from the effort. She ran toward two figures lying in the snow. One was Alfonso and the other was Resuza. All around them snow had begun to fall, thicker and whiter than anyone could imagine. It was as if the earth itself wanted to scrub away any last trace of the Shadow Tree.
Alfonso lay flat on the ground in the form of a very old man. Marta and Resuza were both crouching over him. Marta put her head to his chest. His breathing was slow and ragged; and for several seconds, it stopped altogether. Marta heard footsteps behind her. She glanced backward briefly and saw a small gathering of people. Kiril, Konrad, Leif, Bilblox, and Naomi stood and watched silently. And there were soldiers too – the members of the Forlorn Hope – all of whom stood at the ready. Marta ignored them all and, instead, leaned down close to Alfonso’s ear. She grabbed his hands. “Breathe,” she whispered. “Like I taught you. Breathe in and out – focus on every second and then move on to the next one.”
Alfonso did not move.
“Remember the armory in Jasber,” said Marta. “Feel the heat, smell the smoke, put yourself back there.” Tears streamed down her face. He still wasn’t breathing and his lips started to turn blue. “You’re fifteen years old,” she whispered. “Fif
teen years old.” Slowly, his chest began to rise and fall again.
Chapter 54: Escape
The convoy of sleds raced across the polar plain, continuing for several hours through a stark landscape of snow and ice, and everyone seemed to cherish the quiet and the solitude of the ride. Kiril’s sled led the way. He rode with Konrad and Naomi. Behind them was another sled with Bilblox and Marta. Then there was a third sled carried Leif, Alfonso, and Resuza. Behind them were dozens of others, manned by the members of the Forlorn Hope.
In his sled, Leif held his son tightly as Resuza steered the sled. Alfonso clutched his father’s coat and briefly closed his eyes. Alfonso’s thoughts drifted, inevitably, back to the Shadow Tree. Again and again he pictured his Uncle Hill, perched in the ghastly Tree, taking one last look around before he struck his blow. Hill must have known that he wasn’t going to survive. Alfonso wondered whether, in those last moments, his uncle was fearful or calm. The memory was still so raw Alfonso couldn’t stand to dwell on it, and yet he did – indeed he felt he had to and so he forced himself to recall every painful detail. After some time, Alfonso began to sob. He was thinking of Nance, and the emptiness that would invade the rest of her life. She and Hill had been so happy together, and it had only lasted for a few precious years. Finally, when he felt about as low as he ever had in his entire life, another memory of Hill sprang into his mind rather spontaneously. Alfonso recalled seeing his uncle, on his motorcycle, speeding up the icy driveway to their home in World’s End, Minnesota. Hill had been fast asleep and muttering to himself. The image made Alfonso smile.
As he held his son, Leif was also thinking about Hill. Oddly, though, he was not despondent like Alfonso, who had known Hill much better than he had. Leif had spent so many years assuming he would never see his brother again; and, when he was held captive in the cabin near Jasber, Leif believed he would spend his entire life away from everybody that he loved. And yet here he was, with his son, headed home. This was Hill’s doing; this was Hill’s gift; and, more than anything else, Leif was grateful.
Eventually the convoy reached the edge of the Petrified Forest. The stone trees, many of which were coated with ice, stood ramrod straight – as forlorn and still as gravestones. Kiril brought his sled to a stop and a deep silence washed over the entire convoy. It was as if the Petrified Forest, in its vastness and its absence of life, was absorbing and squelching every conceivable sound.
“What now?” asked Leif finally, his voice shattering the silence.
“What now – for you?” asked Kiril.
“Yes,” said Leif. “Where do we go from here?”
“You cross the forest here,” explained Kiril. “I will give you a map that shows the route. It is the shortest and easiest crossing, by far. As long as you stay on the path and move quickly, you’ll be fine. The fog wolves will not bother you if you enter with purpose and direction. Once you leave the forest, you simply head due south for ten days or so and eventually you’ll hit the rail line that goes between the towns of Bovanenkovo and Obskaya. There is a train that runs along those tracks every few days taking workers out to the natural gas fields. If you can flag down the train, you’ll be okay.”
Kiril handed a map to Leif and then gestured toward a nearby sled. “There are rifles, food, and other provisions on that sled,” said Kiril. “Take it.”
Leif eyed the long convoy of other sleds, many of which contained huge, ash-colored burlap sacks. Leif wondered if they were filled with black ash from the Shadow Tree. The soldiers on the sleds were silent and stony faced, offering no clues.
“What about you?” asked Leif, skeptically. “Why aren’t you coming with us?”
“We’re going to take another crossing – farther to the west,” said Kiril. “We’re headed to a port on Baydaratskaya Bay and from there north into Kara Sea.” He allowed the tiniest of smiles to curl across his lips.
“What’s in the Kara Sea?” asked a small voice. It was Naomi. “What’s out there?”
“Nothing of any interest. Only some very desolate lands, mostly ice-covered,” said Kiril with a smile. “It’s no place for you.”
“So this is it?” asked Naomi.
Kiril nodded. With that, he snapped his whip and his sled dogs took off. Everyone watched the convoy head west, across the polar plain, until they vanished into the horizon. The wind began to kick up. Naomi walked over to where Resuza was standing. The two sisters stood together silently. Eventually, Resuza put her arm around Naomi’s shoulder. Naomi didn’t resist and Resuza felt grateful – it was a start.
Epilogue
It took several weeks for them to finally return to the place they said they’d all meet up again: the Dlugosz lighthouse on the Sea of Clouds. Misty and Clink had seen them from a long way off, and by the time that Alfonso and his companions dragged their makeshift-rafts onto the rocky shore and walked inside, an incredible feast had been laid out. Braised lamb garnished with tarragon and mint, a thick beef bourguignon stew, several different types of salt-encrusted fish, and an entire banquet table groaning from end to end with sweet pastries, puddings and pies. Second-Floor-Man had enlisted the help of First-Floor-Man to create this exceptional feast. Long-held rules were broken, and aged cheeses and wines were brought up from hidden storehouses. They ate for three days straight and slept for two days after that.
They would have continued on feasting and sleeping, but the lighthouse was only one step in the return journey. It had become home for Misty and Clink, but the others had homes of their own to return to. First off, however, they had to tell Nance about Hill. After a long discussion, it was decided that Misty would take one of the lighthouse’s two remaining airships and travel back to Somnos to tell Nance. Leif and Alfonso would head back to World’s End where Judy was waiting for them. Marta explained that she would take the chain and Pendant, which the Abbot had given her, and burn them – thus summoning the monks who would fetch her and take her back to Jasber. Bilblox would, of course, head home to Fort Krasnik and – for the time being at least – Resuza and Naomi would go with him. “The good news is that I’m richer than a king,” Bilblox told the sisters . “I got a giant house that could use some feminine touches. You’re both welcome to stay with me as long as you'd like – or until you can think of some place you’d rather be.”
The evening before they all left the lighthouse, Leif and Alfonso wrote separate letters to Nance, talking about Hill and what he had meant to them. They both promised they’d visit Somnos someday. Afterwards, Leif then went to bed, but Alfonso had one more thing to do. Just like the first time many months ago, when they had first arrived at the lighthouse, Alfonso snuck over to Resuza’s room. She was awake and waiting for him. They hardly spoke and, instead, sat together and listened to the sound of the waves crashing below.
A tear ran down Resuza’s cheek.
“I don’t know if we’ll see each other ever again,” she said.
“I do,” said Alfonso.
“What secrets are you keeping from me?” asked Resuza, wiping away her tear and smiling.
“Whenever I morph, I have these memories – but they’re memories from the life I haven’t yet lived,” he explained.
“You mean like visions of the future?”
“Kind of,” he replied.
“And?”
“I’ll be seeing you again,” said Alfonso with a wink. “Quite a bit of you I think.”
Resuza smiled and squeezed his hand.
Leif and Alfonso walked side by side along an empty gravel road. It was mid-afternoon, and the springtime sun was strong enough that both felt comfortable without coats. The road was narrow and bordered on both sides by a mature pine forest. Birds chirped and called to each other from the treetops, providing a cheerful soundtrack to their journey.
Father and son walked along in a comfortable silence. They looked tired but relaxed, as if they were coming home after running a marathon. In a sense, this was spot-on.
This was especially true for Le
if, who had unexpectedly vanished from World’s End, Minnesota a decade ago. He had been forced to obey the strict orders of the Founding Tree of Jasber, and then once successful, he had been forced by the Jasberians to stay in a lonely cottage to live out the rest of his days. And finally he and Alfonso had heeded the call to destroy the Shadow Tree. Now at last, all that needed doing was done – or so it seemed. Or perhaps the only force stronger than the pull of a Founding Tree was the protective bond between Great Sleepers from the same family. Whatever the reason, Leif and Alfonso were now walking together, tired but happy, along this beautiful forest road.
“Will you stay a teenager?” asked Leif finally. “I’m mean, you’re free to do what you like – but, I guess what I am asking is, can you control your body so that you look your true age?” Leif sighed heavily, as if the question had been weighing on him, and the mere act of asking it was a relief.
“Yes,” said Alfonso with a smile. “I think I can – thanks to Marta.”
“I’m glad,” said Leif, with a somber nod of his head. “People might react strangely, you know, if they saw you morphing – that’s all.”
“I know,” said Alfonso with a smile. “But listen, dad, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to be fine. You never give me enough credit.”
“That’s not true,” said Leif. “You’re a remarkable young man and, the truth is, you’re stronger than I am in many ways. It’s hard being a parent, Alfonso, you’ll see some day, you just worry all of the time. And you’ve already been through so much, I just want it all to be over. I want everything to be right for you – that’s all.”
