by Sharon Hinck
Brantley crouched beside me and waved Trilia away. “I can wait here with Carya. We’ll catch up later.”
Trilia ignored that offer and dug through her pack, unearthing a small silk bag with a drawstring. After shaking dried herbs into her palm, she crushed them with her thumb. The fragrance of spice and shady groves and hope sweetened the air.
Bristling like a forest hound, Brantley edged closer to me. “What’s in those dead leaves?”
“They be easing her pain.” Trilia raised a brow toward me. “Yes?”
I nodded and leaned back against Brantley as Trilia unwrapped my bandage and cast it aside. The fabric was stained and torn, but I still couldn’t afford to lose it. “Wait—”
“Hush. ’Tis fine. I’ve more.” Her finger traced the scar where the High Saltar had sliced my tendon and cut away my purpose and identity in one cruel blow. Angry red skin puckered, and the wound leaked blood.
The sight drew a hiss from Brantley, but my weariness suppressed any urge to react. From her pack, Trilia unearthed a clump of moss tied in a bundle. She dabbed the cool, wet sponge over my skin, then pressed her herbs in place. They stuck to my damp skin while she rummaged again. Her head bent to her work with the same intensity that Ginerva had always shown when tending my injury back on Meriel. Ginerva. Her name made me homesick. Would I see her again? Was she worrying about me? I’d welcome her motherly scolding at the moment.
Trilia finished her ministrations by unspooling a band of clean, stretchy fabric and wrapping my ankle. Already, the herbs had dulled the pain, and the gentle pressure of the bandage brought further relief. “Thank you.”
Brantley tightened his protective arm around me, clearly untrusting of Trilia.
She ignored him and met my eyes. The fringe of her white hair swayed forward as she dipped her head. “You have more distress to release than most, I’m thinking. Good thing the pain will soon end.”
Did she mean because of the herbs? Or because of the convening that was supposed to solve every problem?
“She needs rest,” Brantley ordered in a tone that had once commanded a ragtag army and guided his village.
Trilia’s expression remained placid but unrelenting. She studied the arc of the suns overhead. “No. We be late already.”
Brantley’s arm flexed against my back, and his other hand gripped his knife hilt. For the tenth time since we’d landed here, I scrambled to forestall a confrontation.
I lurched to my feet, and Brantley sprang up as well. Resting a hand on his chest, I willed him to listen. “I’ll be fine.”
Trilia busied herself rearranging her pack, then hoisted it to her shoulder and headed up the path.
I leaned in to Brantley and whispered, “There may come a need to fight, but not now. Let’s get along if we can.”
His brow darkened. “This walking is too much for you.”
“Didn’t we already have this discussion?” I smiled, lightly touching the scrape on his cheek, then pointing to the bandage over the gash he’d received climbing trees. “I won’t fuss about your injuries if you don’t fuss about mine.”
“It’s not the same,” he grumbled. His hand closed around my fingers, and he leaned in. Our faces inches apart, he searched my eyes. “You meant what you said earlier? In the village?”
My lashes swept down. “That I don’t want to lose you?”
“Will the Order even let you marry—”
“I’m not in the Order anymore.” I dared to look up, losing myself in his eyes.
“You won’t change your mind?” His words breathed against my mouth.
The question stopped me. I’d committed myself to the Order but later fled. I’d determined not to saddle Brantley with a crippled partner but later cast off that noble intention. I had proved myself unreliable and fickle. He deserved so much better. Yet the love that swirled in the ocean depths of his gaze wooed me, won me, convinced me to let myself be loved.
A shadow crossed his brow. “Well? Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I whispered.
His lips met mine, gently, with promise. Warmth surged through my spine. The earth seemed to not only rock but spin.
He pulled away reluctantly, blinked several times, and drew a shaky breath. “Then let’s get answers and get off this island. We have a future to build.”
He positioned my arm around his shoulders, grabbed my waist, and tried a few steps. My limp was less pronounced. The herbs were helping, but the giddy joy bounding around my ribcage helped even more. We moved ahead with new determination, and I barely felt my feet touch the ground.
We caught up to Trilia. Ahead of us, beyond a cluster of trees and shrubs, voices rose in argument. Trilia shook her head. “We cannot delay. Already the pain builds in some.” She hurried toward the sound.
“Last chance.” Brantley squeezed my waist. “We can turn back. If they try to stop us, I can fight them off.”
“And do what? Sit around an empty village, trapped?” I urged him forward, and we continued up the trail. “Besides, I’m getting a sense that these people need help. We’re here for a reason.”
“Of course we’re here for a reason. We’re here to get supplies for Meriel and get home again.” He tilted his head so it rested against the top of mine. “Besides, now that you’re seeing sense about us, I’m eager to get back. Build a new cottage in Windswell. I thought you wanted that too.”
A tingle of anticipation played through my chest. I could picture the cozy home we’d create, surrounded by the warm villagers and his family.
Family. I bit my lip. “How will Brianna feel about our marriage? About us?”
“Why?”
Was he really that oblivious? “She cares about you.”
“Of course she does. We both loved my brother. She’s like a sister to me.”
My legs felt heavy again, but I told them to keep walking. “Are you sure the bond isn’t more than that?”
He squeezed my shoulders. “You do get the oddest notions. How long has that thought been worrying you?”
“I’ve seen it in her face. And she hated me for a long time.” I thrust my chin up.
A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because you were a dancer. You know she adores you now. So does Orianna. They’ll both be thrilled to have you living nearby.”
Another worry pinched between my eyes. “I did promise Saltar Kemp I’d help teach new patterns to the Order. I’ll need to make regular trips to Middlemost.”
He shrugged. “With the new river, it’s but a half-day’s journey on a stenella. You can visit whenever you wish.” Muscles tightened across his back. “Are you sure about leaving the Order? Any regrets?”
A sigh soaked through me. “I loved being a dancer. I grew up believing only dancers of the Order could serve our world.”
“And now?” A hint of endearing insecurity graveled his voice.
I stopped, turned, and hugged him. “I’m not called to live at the Order. Perhaps I can serve the Maker and still love a husband.”
“A husband? I would hope you’d be more specific than that.”
I suppressed a giggle. “All right. This husband. And his people. If I dance in Windswell, it may bring aid as truly as performing patterns in the center ground of the Order.” I met his gaze and swam in the joyous light dancing in his eyes.
“You couldn’t have come to that realization sooner?” He gave a groan of frustration. “First we have to get off this Maker-forsaken island.”
Forgotten, forgetting, forsaking. The deep heart cry I’d heard when we arrived here. “These people are not forsaken by the Maker. They don’t know Him. Much as our world forgot. We should help them.”
Brantley snorted and turned us back to the path. We caught up to Morra, who was sulking again, his heels grinding into the ground as he walked. The careless foot placement made me shudder. Some dancer habits were so ingrained they’d always stay with me. Touching the earth with respect and care was one of those rules. I tried to engage the
young man in conversation but couldn’t budge his sullen mood. I eventually gave up and focused on the sensation of Brantley’s strong muscles supporting me, the warmth of him at my side, and the wonderful hint of ocean and leather and salty sweat.
Fatigue dragged my eyelids down, and I sleepwalked for long stretches. The primary sun lowered toward the treetops as the trail unraveled into a vast open space. Brantley stopped and gave a whistle of appreciation.
Beyond the several dozen villagers, a huge lake spread under the glow of the subsun. Colors shimmered on the surface, and the honeyed scent of ocean rose like mist.
On Meriel, the center of our world was much thicker than the rim. Wells were dug many stories deep to reach the ocean below. Here the lake’s surface was only a house’s depth below the woods from which we emerged, and the wide fields surrounding the lake rolled gently down toward its shore, reminding me of soup in a bowl. The people who had arrived before us had strolled down the hill and congregated near the water. Some threw off their outer clothes and dove in, paddling around and emerging refreshed and grinning. The lake was so big the whole village could have fit within. A splash several yards out rippled the surface.
“Fish!” Brantley hurried me along, drawn toward the water like a child to star rain.
“Whoa.” I untangled from his grip. “Go on ahead. I’ll be fine.”
He spared a quick nod and jogged to the lake’s edge. A smile tugged my lips. There were times his nature reverted to that of a little boy. Eager, reckless. What was I getting myself into? My smile broadened. A life with the most noble and challenging man I’d ever met.
I spotted Morra. Perhaps now that we’d arrived at the lake, he’d be more forthcoming with explanations about what we could expect and where we would find a guide to get us home. I limped over to him. “Thank you again for reshaping this cane.”
He thrust a leg forward and bowed. “Of course. You must be glad we’re here.”
“It was a difficult journey.” A tired sigh shook the last bit of energy from my frame. “What happens next?”
Morra squinted at me. “Be you doing the game again?”
The game? “Yes. Please pretend I don’t know anything about the convening.”
He scratched his head. “I’ve told you all.”
“So, what do we do next?”
He gestured to the shore. “Now we call on the Gardener, and then we sleep.”
Sleep? The important convening had been the focus of the village ever since we’d arrived. The revel and lengthy hike had built to this moment. I rubbed my eyes and murmured, “Seems anticlimactic.”
Morra didn’t hear me. He walked toward the edge of the lake and grabbed the arm of the girl he’d pursued all day. Crillo shook her head, but he forced a small token of carved wood into her hand. She stared at it and nodded, then walked away. Morra looked back at me, a hint of triumph painted across his face.
Brantley strode toward me, light glinting off his blond curls and energy in his step. “I wish I hadn’t left our net behind. There are signs of a large school. What I wouldn’t give for a warm fire and hot coals to grill a fish steak. I’m starving.”
“Morra tells me the first item on the agenda is sleep.” All along the lakeshore, individuals spread blankets. “You can figure out how to fish tomorrow.”
His gaze narrowed as he watched the villagers settle in. They didn’t lie down, but sat shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the water. “Why are they so close to the edge?”
He was right. Even small children settled so near the water that a shift in position could send them tumbling into the lake. I started forward, but Brantley grabbed my arm. “Don’t interfere. Let’s find a safe place for you to rest.”
“For us both to rest.” My weight had dragged against him for hours as we walked. He must be exhausted.
He rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll keep watch for a while. There’s something very odd about all of this.”
Before our long hike, the villagers had admonished us to participate in the revels and forced us to attend this convening, but now the people lost all interest in us, not caring that we stood back and simply observed. Men, women, and children perched along the edge of the lake. They swayed side to side, humming, their raised hands twirling in the air. Even though I’d lived my life moving in unison with other dancers, these odd actions disturbed and unsettled me with their detachment. Their eyes stared vacantly into nothing. Their expressions were entranced, completely oblivious to everything around them.
Without warning, the swaying shifted to a frantic forward and back movement. The humming rose to a clashing chord. My heart raced. Before I could blink, everyone fell over, sprawled along the tangleroot and as still as death.
I grabbed Brantley’s arm. His face paled as he studied the strange sight, but then he broke away from me, jogged to the nearest man, and touched him. A shiver rode through my frame. Brantley had more courage than I did.
He strode back to me. “They’re just asleep.”
“That was . . .” I pressed a hand over my mouth.
He guided me up the slope to the trailhead, putting more distance between the unnatural scene and us. “I know. But now we finally have a chance to rest.” Brantley rolled out a blanket under a tall pine where we could still see the gentle slope down to the lake.
Eyelids heavy, I collapsed to the ground and pulled a cloak over my shoulders. The effects of the sleepless revel and then the long hike asserted their power. “I can’t stay awake.”
Brantley settled beside me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure nothing more will happen now. They’re all too tired.” Yet worry edged his voice.
I shared his apprehension. “I’ll rest a few hours. Then I can keep watch for a bit.” That was my valiant intention. But I fell into a heavy, intoxicating slumber and didn’t wake until deep into the night. I sat up, glancing around to get my bearings.
Brantley snored softly beside me. A lock of hair fell crookedly across his brow. My fingers itched to brush it back, but I didn’t want to disturb him. I couldn’t remember when he’d last slept, and he’d half carried me for much of the day. Standing, I reached upward to the stars overhead, then bent and pressed my palms against the ground, relishing the deep stretch. Muscles, ligaments, tendons all relaxed as if sighing in appreciation.
Silence shrouded the lake. In the dim starlight, the lumpy silhouette of bodies looked like shrubs guarding the water. I rubbed my eyes and squinted. Perhaps it was a trick of shadows, but all the cloaks and blankets were deep green.
I picked my way with my walking stick and headed down the hill for a closer look. Morra’s auburn hair caught a glint of starlight where he curled like a tiny child on a favorite blanket. Near him, Trilia’s brilliant white hair stood out among the coverings of green. She rested on her back. One pale arm flung outward from the green covering her body.
My eyes widened. Tendrils of vines crept along her exposed arm, encircled her neck, and wrapped across her forehead like a crown. I turned to Morra. Foliage stretched around him, hugged him, entwined over him. Where it had easily coated others, here the greenery seemed to struggle, twist, and fight to encapsulate him. He whimpered and shifted, and more moss spread across him. I touched his shoulder. “Morra?”
“Don’t wake the sleepers,” a deep voice intoned behind me.
I spun, nearly losing my balance. A tall man stood a short distance up the rise that added even more height to his imposing presence. His sleeveless green tunic exposed spindly arms like twigs shorn of leaves. His frame was skeletal, his face gaunt. His angles felt out of place on this otherwise plump and jolly island.
“Who are you?” I blurted.
He stared down his narrow nose with a glare that rivaled the harshest saltar. “I am the Gardener.”
At his voice, the earth quivered beneath my feet. Clearly this man demanded respect. I rose high on my tiptoes and lowered, hoping the customary greeting was appropriate. “I didn’t mean to intrude. What’s happening to them
?”
The Gardener gave a dark chuckle, and all the foliage stretched and contracted in response. A sharp thrill ran through me, the sense of being in the presence of someone “other.” I’d felt this same current sweep through me when I’d met the Maker. But when the Maker gathered me in light, the awe I experienced was wrapped with warmth and love. The man before me exuded age and power, but no warmth. Tiny hairs rose on the back of my neck.
Morra gave a low moan. More leaves crept across him, seeming to burrow into his skull. I reached out to pull them aside.
“Beware!” The earth shuddered again, tossing me back. Spears of thorny vines shot up, as tall as my head, blocking me from Morra.
I whirled to confront the Gardener. “What are you doing to him?”
His thin lips parted, revealing uneven, yellowed teeth. “Giving him what he desires.”
Anger surged through my muscles. “Death?”
The Gardener’s laugh was wheezy and warped like a broken flute. “Is that what upsets you? Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps in his deepest being, that is what he most desires. But that isn’t given me to grant.” His face twisted. “Not yet.”
Nearby, Trilia stirred and also moaned. My fingers clenched on my walking stick. “Stop it! They’re in pain.”
Another wall of thorns sprang up and kept me from reaching her. “Just the opposite. I’m repairing them.”
“Repairing?” I sounded like a little girl in the first form, echoing questions, and I felt as inadequate and foolish. I didn’t understand what was happening, and if this Gardener was harming the villagers, I had no way to stop him.
His smile twisted further. “These foolish mortals would destroy each other were it not for my help.”
As he spoke, the vines and leaves continued to grow, reach, and tangle over each villager along the shore. One inquisitive branch slipped toward me, and I edged away.
“Carya?”
Up the hill, Brantley’s silhouette parted from the pine tree.
Relief rose and filled my chest. I was no longer confronting this strange being alone. I waved. “Down here!” A tendril unfurled and splayed across my foot. I kicked it aside. The Gardener slid among the sleepers, waving his bony arms. Moss and foliage covered each face as he passed. Most succumbed easily, not even stirring as they were immersed in verdure. But a few seemed—even in their sleep—to resist. Harba and Wimmo tossed and turned near each other, as if trying to shake off the blankets of green. Yet soon even they stilled.
