Читать книгу Blackfire - James Daniel Eckblad - Страница 9

When they had reached the end of the tunnel, what had been an opening decades earlier was no longer there, having been closed by the accumulation of organic matter, dirt and growth, as well as the absence of use. Thorn took his stick and poked it into where he thought the opening was located. After a couple of thrusts he hit what sounded and felt like solid wood, likely part of a root system. After a number of other thrusts in other locations, Thorn was able to say, “I found it! It used to be near an exposed root of a large tree, and the tree and root have now grown over most of the hole. I think I can widen the hole with my stick, but it’s going to take a while—maybe a couple of hours, I’m afraid. The earth above is pretty thick and compacted.”

“Thorn,” said Jamie, “here, use my knife; it’s supposed to be a special tool.” Thorn took the knife to claw away at the ground above him. The work was virtually effortless, and, within only a few minutes, Thorn was able to push his wide head and narrow torso through the hole and into the light of day.

“Well,” Thorn yelled down to the others, “not exactly what I was expecting, but it’s safe. C’mon out!”

The Thrashers had been employed decades earlier to remove the trees where the tunnel emerged, but they had been away from their vile work for so long now that new growth had established itself, so that Thorn and his companions were actually standing in a young forest all around them, with the older trees growing in the west and the younger ones surfacing in the east. And so the five of them stood—horrifically thirsty for light and soaking up the sun—in the midst of much shorter and far fewer trees, separated by spaces allowing for tall grass, hearty bushes, and an abundance of sunlight. What had once been the towering tree that had grown mightily over the old tunnel exit was now merely a broad stump with a few stems, one of which hopefully someday would have the opportunity to become a tree of majesty.

It was late in the afternoon when they emerged into the upper world, and soon the plummeting sun was casting beams through the branches, mottling the forest floor with the flickering shadows of leaves that were enjoying a final dance in the sunny, gentle breezes.

It would be dark before long, so Thorn suggested that they remain where they were for the night. The large stump next to the tunnel opening, together with its extensive and expansive root system, had defeated all attempts by other trees and bushes to take root in the soil they occupied. Thus, there was a sizable, even if uneven, clearing around the stump. As the late afternoon light dissipated rapidly into dusk, the four children gathered wood for a fire while Thorn used the stealth of his natural camouflage to catch a rather large rabbit for a rather small supper. Even the largest of wild rabbits was not much supper for five hungry souls, four of whom yearned for anything besides the berries and dried bread that were their lot since entering Bairnmoor.

But with the fire blazing and the supper roasting, and all sitting side by side in the friendly light and welcoming warmth and smells, everyone felt safe and at peace for the first time in several days. Elli and her friends joked about roasting marshmallows, with each of them using a different part of Thorn’s body, and they laughed. They laughed louder when one of them suggested that, in this case, they could eat both the marshmallows and the sticks! And they laughed louder still when Thorn said that, from what he could gather from the conversation, the marshmallow idea sounded tasty and they could count him in!

The children stopped laughing when Thorn announced that supper was ready. They ate with a slow savoring of the meal, not certain when they’d eat like that again, and all surprisingly were satisfied. Following supper, as was the case during their meal together, they remained pleasantly silent, listening to the strong happy sounds of the still-blazing wood crackling and spitting as if in an unconstrained private celebration on which the children were eavesdropping. Each was lost in private thoughts and emotions, some experienced for the first time.

Elli puzzled over Thorn’s statement about her being the one to release the land from evil apart from any apparent knowledge of either their mission to liberate the Queen or the role of the key in it.

She was also surprised that she was not homesick and that she didn’t miss her parents. She had known she was adopted since she was very young—really, for as long as she could remember. But that never bothered her. Her parents talked about choosing her, which was special, they said, by comparison with other children who, without election, had simply been born to parents who, therefore, were virtually obligated to love them. But Elli’s parents had indeed elected her, and so that, they said, made her more special. But she didn’t feel more special than other kids—quite to the contrary, at least as far as other kids were concerned. And even with respect to her parents, she had to admit to herself that she never really felt as if they knew her and loved her for who she was. And while she always felt cared for and safe, she never quite felt that she was at home with her parents in the way that other kids seemed to feel at home in their families, including others she knew who also had been adopted. And now this—this thing she was living right now that at times seemed more like a dream than reality and that at other times seemed far—no, truly—more real than reality itself.

Now Alex? Well, he was mostly just tired. He missed his family for sure, however: his mom and dad—and sister and brother, both of whom were older than he. And he missed his music that he listened to on his ear buds, seemingly all the time and with the same songs holding their excitement for him. And he missed the special attention he got from his mom and dad, and even from his sister and brother; but he also felt better about himself somehow since being with Elli. Truth be told, he felt less special with Elli, but he also felt more confident in himself, and more like everyone else around him. Here in Bairnmoor he was expected to be like everyone else around him; and that was new, and kind of scary, but also kind of good. He liked how he felt when he was protecting Elli, and he wasn’t sure if he had ever felt better than that. He didn’t really know why, but, then, he didn’t really ask that question. For now, he was homesick, for sure. But he was also okay—for sure, for now.

Beatríz was thinking about how absurd and amazing it was that she was on a journey like this with her disability; it wasn’t really reasonable, or even remotely rational, that she was doing this. The picking of someone else among millions and millions of others would have made so much more sense; even she knew that. The liabilities of having her along would far exceed anything she could contribute. It wasn’t that she didn’t have a genuinely large and valuable role to play in the world, but this wasn’t the sort of role that would ever come to anyone’s mind—except Elli’s! And Mr. P’s! She smiled and laughed under her breath at the absurdity of it all. And yet . . . and yet, she couldn’t imagine any experience in life in her normal world that could match in importance and drama and meaning the experiences she had already accumulated in her brief time in Bairnmoor. Indeed, she thought, if it all came to an end tomorrow, happily or not, she felt she had lived a far more purposeful and courageous existence than anyone she knew, and a more purposeful and courageous an existence than any she would have been permitted—much less have attempted—back home.

Ever since she volunteered to face the Death Eyes, it was as if she had come into her own, timid no longer. She was proud of that—not in the way that says, “look what I did,” but in the way that says, “even I am able to do something significant, and I’m not worried about whether I’m able to do it or not, or whether I get credit for it or not—or even whether anybody else knows about it or not.” Thinking about the future was hard, though. She had become accustomed to having to focus on the immediate. But, here, she was being asked to think first about the future, and only secondarily about the present. And that wasn’t easy—or comfortable. Yet it seemed necessary. And she wondered whether, or how, she would be up to all that might be asked of her in the coming days. She was beginning to think there existed far more wonderful things than anything she had ever wanted or wished for, or could even understand.

Jamie was wondering what his role in all of this was supposed to be. It didn’t seem that the group needed him; if it had been just Elli, Beatríz, Alex, and Thorn, the mission would be just fine without him, he thought. So . . . why him? He certainly had no special abilities—or even notable qualities. Even Beatríz had the unusual qualities of a heightened sense of smell and hearing. And Alex? Well . . . he had that passion for loyalty that existed beyond questioning and understanding. He was going to hold fast, no matter what. But he—Jamie? Would he hold fast no matter what? Would he remain loyal and brave? Could he handle any greater pressure than what he had already experienced? And did he want to? Probably not. After all, he was not even a true believer in the mission. And if he could go back now, would he? Probably, he thought. Probably.

Thorn was convinced that Elli was “the one,” given the key and her mere presence as a child in Bairnmoor. But Elli, it seemed to him, wasn’t convinced of her importance. In fact, she didn’t place much value on the key and suggested that her purpose for being in Bairnmoor was far less crucial than the one he was suggesting for “the one with the diamond key.” And, of course, there was nothing diamond-ish about the old black key that Elli was wearing. But something big and wonderful was afoot and, in his view, worthy of his attention, and even worthy of his life—and worthy of his life whether this “something” amounted, in the end, to anything at all. Of that much, he was certain.

As the fire quieted down, the soft flicker of light on their faces suggested to each of the children that all the others looked somehow older, perhaps even a bit different. And the odd thing was, it was as if each one looked to all the others as if he or she was more of a child, but yet a more mature one, whatever that meant. Thorn, who was staring the entire time into the fire, appeared the same to the children, reflecting what might best be described as a soothing quality of changelessness and permanency that provided the children an abiding source of comfort.

Thorn added more wood to the fire, stirred the coals and took his place of watch, sitting against the large stump. He sat facing the slightly older part of the forest and away from the light of the fire, hidden in the shadows and so able to see without being seen. The others rolled their skins tightly around them and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, following a pleasantly chilly night, the sun rose and awakened the children early with light through the trees, prompting them to rise. They ate what remained of their bread and berries, and packed up for the next leg of their journey that would lead them east to the edge of the forest and to—they knew not what.

They walked with increasing ease as the woods became thinner, the vines less frequent, and the ground less cluttered by dead limbs and branches. None of them felt any need to stop, except for water, and by the time the woods was coming to a scraggily end toward the middle of the afternoon, the five missioners found themselves facing a long, steep hill that was treeless and covered with a carpet of knee-high grass. The final three hundred yards of their climb to the ridge would be the first time since their journey began below the stone stairs that they would be easily visible, at least to anyone or anything that would happen to be looking across the grassy knoll. Little did they know that there would, indeed, be eyes ready to notice them once they stepped from the veil of the forest’s edge into the open.

Before leaving the cover of the trees, Thorn instructed them to move swiftly and say nothing until they had crouched just below the ridge.

“If there are Fire-eyes watching from the grass, we will not be able to see them in the daylight. I would suggest that we wait until dark, but that would only give any enemies behind us more time to catch up. Besides, as soon as we see them, they will already have seen us. Off we go.”

Side by side they left the forest and ran onto the grassy slope, Beatríz at one end holding onto Elli’s shirttail. The ground beneath the grass was hard and even, so all of them, including Beatríz, were able to move with remarkable speed. At the slope’s steepest point, not far from the ridge, Beatríz tripped over her own feet, losing her grip on Elli’s shirt. Neither she nor Elli said a word, each knowing that Elli would reach back quickly for her, which she did. Soon, all were lined up, crouching in the grass within arm’s length of the top of the ridge.

In the darkening twilight, which had already settled on the other side of the knoll, they could hear indistinct voices and an occasional cracking sound, not unlike the sound of two boards being clapped together. Far below and behind them several Fire-eyes, having sold their souls to the Evil One, through Sutante Bliss, in exchange for the promise of bodies, watched from the cover of tall grasses near the edge of the forest. Then, concealed by the grasses, the Fire-eyes flew wide of the travelers to the top of the ridge and over. Little did these Fire-eyes know, however, that the Fire-eyes who had led the children to Thorn were, from just inside the forest’s edge, watching them. As soon as the stealthy Fire-eyes that were watching Thorn and the children were out of sight, off flew the other set of eyes northward.

Thorn crawled several feet further to the top of the ridge to get a peek at what was waiting for them on the other side. Thorn raised his head just enough to see through the tops of the grasses, looked without moving for several minutes, and then uttered a quiet “Hmmmm . . .”

“What is it, Thorn?” whispered Elli.

Thorn slipped back to where the children were bunched together. “Well,” said Thorn, his eyes appearing thoughtful and looking at no one. “What we have is this. Below us on the other side is a cluster of maybe ten large mud huts and a larger building made of logs with a tower on top. They are located on this side of the river that runs right to left. To the right of the huts, and stretching for dozens of acres on both sides of the river, are fruit trees. There are a number of Unpersons who, even at dusk, are tending to the trees, and a number of people from this part of the kingdom are clearing the land to plant new trees, or so it would seem. They are turning the soil and carrying away rocks. Unpersons are supervising them, and overseeing the entire operation are an uncertain number of Sutante Bliss’s warriors, including a few Wolfmen. I could see three of the troops in the tower, but there have to be more inside the log building. What we are hearing are the voices of the overseers giving commands and cracking whips.”

“Thorn,” asked Beatríz, “who are these people you speak of—and are they slaves? And, are they also Unpersons—or becoming so?”

“The people in this part of the kingdom had been some of the most loyal subjects of the Queen. Those who did not resist the forces of Sutante Bliss were promised leniency: they, like others elsewhere, became Unpersons, turning against their own people, betraying the Queen and losing all childnessness as they embraced evil in a host of ways, either intentionally or simply by refusing to resist.

“Most of those who resisted were forced into servitude, though some were simply killed. You will see they will look old and very worn, but they will have, to a partial extent, the distinct facial features that you yourselves possess because they refuse to accept the rule of Sutante Bliss, and have refused to renounce the core of who they are—their childnessness—which is said to be at the heart of the Good. However, they no longer possess the power of the Queen and her community, and are barely able to remember what it means to follow the Good and manifest childness. Mostly, they do not believe any longer, even though they will not defer to evil.”

“Do not believe any longer in what?” asked Elli.

“The source of all things, the Good, and in its power to overcome Sutante Bliss and his vile deeds, much less the Evil One, who is the ultimate source of all evil.”

Thorn paused for a moment, turned to Jamie—who had first asked about the Fire-eyes—and then continued. “Some, however, have had their eyes removed and their bodies killed and burned. What remains of them are what we call the Fire-eyes, left to wander the world bodiless. A few of the Fire-eyes remain loyal to the Queen and the Good, even in their unending state of disembodiment, like the ones that led you to me. However, most of the Fire-eyes were promised new bodies if they served Sutante as his spies, and in this way came under his authority.”

“Do they actually get bodies?” asked Jamie, skeptically.

“Yes. Some have already been given bodies. Sutante Bliss will simply replace the eyes of the body of a resister with Fire-eyes from among those most loyal to him. You see, the soul is in the eyes—not in the body—and it is the eyes that give the body life.” Thorn replied.

“Can you kiw the Fiuwise?” asked Alex.

“Actually, no.” said Thorn. “Once the eyes are removed they no longer have flesh and so cannot themselves be held captive or killed. It is not any longer fear of Sutante Bliss, but the incentive to once again have a body, that captures the loyalty of the Fire-eyes. And,” he added, as if to punctuate the point, “that is a powerful incentive.”

The thoughts of each of the children were now spinning, like the swirling of dry autumn leaves, endeavoring to comprehend all that Thorn had just told them. Thorn suggested that they wait until dark to crawl over the ridge and then continue crawling in the long grass toward the river where they could hide in the tall reeds and cattails that lined the riverbank. Once under cover again, they could make their way in the water quietly downstream—to the left and away from the watchtower. All agreed that this was a good plan, each one wondering in the deepening twilight on this side of the hill what lay in store for them in the dark on the other side.

At last, the large red sun settled softly below the tops of the forest trees behind them, and darkness began to creep up and over them from the other side of the ridge. Soon, night had unrolled its shroud, revealing from east to west an amazing display of stars, like so many thousands of crystals and sequins sewn onto the black velvet fabric of the sky.

When it was well past nightfall, Thorn gave the final instructions. A slight iridescence covered the earth, as if the stars themselves had ever so lightly dusted the grasses and trees. The plan was to crawl on their stomachs over and down the hill through the grass toward the river, aiming for a spot in the cattails some one hundred yards downstream from the tower.

“Everyone ready?” Thorn asked. They were. “Remember—slowly, and as quietly as possible; follow me.” And so, like five black salamanders hugging the dewy ground, they slithered and slid over the crest of the hill and down, one after the other. At a laboriously slow pace they moved silently down the hill, their bodies barely visible above the tall grass. Any slight scraping and rustling noises they made against the ground and through the grass were sufficiently covered by the croaking and chirping of toads and frogs drifting up from the water’s edge—as if, on behalf of the children and Thorn, the little creatures intended by their noise to prevent discovery by the enemy.

The descent seemed never-ending, but finally they were within fifteen yards of the cattails. At this point the five were beginning to feel some small degree of success and relief. It was also at this point that those in the tower were feeling an even greater sense of impending victory. Having been warned earlier in the day by the spying Fire-eyes of the intruders’ presence, the warriors were waiting until the five had crawled nearly to the water’s edge. Then, the captain in the tower would give the signal, and a dozen warriors armed with swords and axes and knives would storm from the log building and capture the enemies for deliverance to Sutante Bliss.

At last, Thorn could see through the grass that the cover of the shoreline was now not much more than ten yards away. Hope was rising in Thorn.

“Attack! Attack! Attack!” shouted a voice from the tower. At that same moment, two doors of the log building were thrown open, and out streamed the warriors to ambush Thorn and the children. As soon as Thorn heard the chilling command from above, he ordered the children to get up and run past him along the river. Without the slightest hesitation they did as Thorn demanded, running as fast as they could with Beatríz in tow behind Elli, who was leading the small pack. They were very fast, but the large warriors were faster and were quickly closing in on them. But unknown to Sutante’s troops, they were also closing even faster on Thorn who was lying hidden in the grass across their path.

When the ferocious fighters had reached the place where Thorn was lying, Thorn raised his outstretched arms and legs and tripped the first five warriors who, in turn, caused the warriors behind them to trip. While they were falling over him and into one another, giving the children critical extra time to get away, Thorn slipped out from underneath the jumble of flailing limbs and ran through the cattails unseen. Like a deftly thrown spear, Thorn dove into the water, arms and legs clasped to his torso for minimal splash and maximum speed.

By the time the warriors had gotten to their feet, gathered themselves and looked toward the place where someone or something had entered the water, Thorn was already a third of the way into the broad river and considerably downstream. He was now swimming in the direction of the children with all but his eyes beneath the water. The warriors searched frantically along the shore for the source of the splash, and when they soon saw nothing, resumed their pursuit of the children, who by this time were getting tired and slowing down, even though they continued to run as fast as they could. Eventually, Jamie said he had to stop and that the others should keep going; but Elli halted everyone. They could hear the pounding of heavy warrior boots closing in on them. Elli looked all around, as did Jamie and Alex, but they saw no place to hide. Even the cattails had thinned, no longer able to provide sufficient cover. She knew they would not be able to outrun the warriors, yet that seemed the only option remaining.

“Run!” Elli shouted, and like a single organism the children started running again, bunched together to ensure that no one outran another. Elli was looking and trying to think of something else they could do besides continuing to run a race they were surely—and shortly—to lose.