Читать книгу Aqueous Passage - Krystyna Faroe - Страница 6

Willow had been very troubled of late. It had been four days since Oak had left the camp. Three since Fern had departed in search of him in Elanclose forest. All the clan knew was that Oak and Blackthorn had been captured by the Citans and taken on board an Aviatilian airship. No one knew where Fern was. The group of defenders that Oak had chosen were now following him on a Lakeller ship. Would they ever come back?

The Woodlanders were without a leader and scrambling to keep some semblance of normal life but with no one in charge they floundered, so they looked to her. She’d borne the responsibility as best she could, keeping her demure expression and soft smile to ward off their worries but she worried excessively. Sleep evaded her and her tired eyes were beginning to show through her façade, making them wonder why Willow was crumbling before them, giving the rest of the clan doubt that things would be fine.

She knew her fear had started before Oak had left and she was regretful that she hadn’t told him. The auras had been out of control, they were everywhere she travelled and they played upon her emotions, driving her to distraction and away from her usual sense of calm. When she had broken down at Fern’s she’d been surprised by the vigour of her tears. Fern had given her strength, even though she hadn’t realized it. Fern had bitten down on her anger to help Willow, not knowing why Willow would break so dramatically at the idea of Oak loving both of them.

It hadn’t been all about Oak. Who could she talk to about what was going on? How could she even explain the forces that were pulling at her? The forces that were getting stronger and more persistent every day, that were terrifying her to her core. Why were they there? What did they want? If only she could understand. Understand? Perhaps that had been her problem all along. She had shirked them, tried to block the auras from her sight, had focused on other things, things that were not important at this time.

Whatever they were she had to let them communicate with her, even if it meant ill for her. They were contacting her and only her. It was hard to be brave when faced with the unknown, especially when facing it alone. Not being able to tell anyone else for fear of causing more distress to the clan but knowing that she might not come back made her shiver in perplexity and dread. No one would know what had happened or where she had gone but she had no choice, she had to give in, she had to face them.

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The winds through Elanclose Forest had picked up, the trees were rustling more than normal and leaves struggled to cling to the branches that held them. Fluttering to the ground they landed upon the soft soil that had been left damp from the rains that had occurred over the last few days. The soft ground presented a noiseless floor for the large feet that trod upon it. The beasts of the night were unsettled; they were on the move more than normal, their yearning for food more prevalent than usual. The vegetation gave them little respite from the hunger they felt, their need for flesh was becoming insatiable and so turning on one another they took down the weaker, giving rise for the stronger to feast upon the meat they craved.

The difference in Elanclose did not go unnoticed to the few that frequented it, namely the Woodlanders, they felt this change and it unsettled them. Their nights were restless, tormented by dreams of intruders, beasts and mysterious events. Their lights flickered without a breeze; the moon lay hidden by clouds. The air smelled differently, it was more pungent than normal; it no longer held the scent of moist earth mixed with moss. The air held a less favourable aroma, an odour that was distasteful with a lingering stench of decay that would not dissipate.

Outside of Elanclose the Citan City glowed, lit brightly with electricity created by the windmills that slowly cranked from the winds sweeping across the fields. But a change happened slowly, the reduction in the turning of the turbines gradual until they finally stopped. The Citans were confused and fearful; they were without light and it gave them discomfort. They had no understanding of why, the winds still occurred, but the stillness of the huge windmills continued even though the structures and mechanics were scanned constantly to restart their movement once more. The suddenness with which they started again startled them all and a wave of apprehension at the unknown rippled through the city.

The lack of electricity wasn’t the only thing to disconcert the Citans. Their water once clean and unspoiled suddenly took a bitter taste and became grey in appearance. No longer clear and refreshing it created thirst rather than quenched it. All those within the city were agitated; they did not understand what was happening. Even those with the knowledge of science were unable to explain the events that were taking place. As with the windmills the water corrected itself as if it had never happened and the Citans drank it, nervously wondering why these strange occurrences were going on.

The final most frightening occurrence shook the buildings that had withstood the Devastation. No one knew what it was that rumbled through the dusty streets. All that was known was that the explosions took place underground in the old sewage system. It was believed that a buildup of methane gas had ignited somehow; leaving holes in the roads and some of the buildings. It was luck that no one was harmed with the most grievous damage restricted to only a few storage rooms that were depleted of their contents through the crumbling of the ground beneath.

Unsettled the Citans questioned why these strange events had occurred. They looked in silence to the spirits for answers, in hope that something unseen and powerful would help them escape the trepidation they felt.