30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Astrid
Water closes over my head, and I expect it to be cold, but I’m pleasantly surprised at the warmth. I clench my eyes closed not wanting to deal with the sting of getting salt water in them. Effie’s hand squeezes around mine, then my feet hit dry ground. The water recedes like a wave, leaving me dry, clutching Effie's hand as tightly as I can while the world around me is unveiled.
It takes me a moment to understand the land around me. Trees litter the ground for as far as I can see, but they're all saplings. Although their trunks are thicker than my thighs and taller than my measly five-foot-six-inches.
"These are huge," I whisper, releasing their hands and stepping up to lay a hand against one of the trees. Thea stretches her wings to their fullest like she’s been cramped in a small space. But coming home can feel like that, like you're finally free to be yourself. My mind turns to Demendia: I wish I could know how Papa is doing, if Reyna is still with us, if more people have fallen ill. I wish I could see what was happening to the community I left behind. I'm terrified I'll be returning to a district of death, but I know this worry won’t do any good. Wallowing in my fear and worry will only make it worse. I left the city with a reason, and now we’re here. I can't give up trying to find answers.
“This is Myrr?” Embla’s voice is breathy as she studies the trees around us, and I can’t help the smile that spreads over my lips as she glances from plant to plant. "The colors here are amazing, I could never paint something like this." She studies each plant in front of the packed dirt making up the only path leading deeper into the forest of giant saplings.
“The outskirts. This is the nursery where the gnomes raise saplings. We’ve got some walking to do before we hit the city proper.” Effie motions to the dirt path that leads away from where we surfaced.
“Speak for yourself. I’m going to stretch my wings,” Thea says, and with one push of her wings she is taking to the sky.
“We better get a move on,” Effie sighs, starting down the dirt path. She doesn't seem too excited to be home, and I can't help but wonder why. My home may not be perfect but I'm excited to return and help my people. Sadness radiates off Effie like a dark cloud I don't quite understand.
Flying ohms chitter among the trees as we walk, and I don’t know the last time I saw this many in one place. In Demendia, I would see two, maybe three. But here an entire colony plays between the limbs of the trees. I walk in silence staring at the canopy, catching glimpses of Thea’s white feathered wings every so often as I wonder what other animals are housed in those branches. The sounds of the forest soak in to me, alive and thriving. After a while the trees grow taller, larger. Bigger than even Demendia’s skyscrapers. A large groan cuts through the air. The sound of creaking wood. I glance up over the treetops to catch a glimpse of a wooden ship. The kind I’ve seen inside glass bottles in Papa’s study. It cuts through the air, beings that make up the crew are almost too small to see scurrying around to do their jobs.
“It’s flying!” I gasp loud enough to startle the flying ohm nearby.
“They’re made of wood from the floating islands.” Effie shrugs. “Myrr is the only port we have left on this side of the continent. Last time I was here, they were trying to contact the other continents after losing touch with the rest of the empire. Ships were going missing, and eventually, we stopped sending them. Now they just travel from Myrr to The Garden of the Dragons, and the Nedyah Isles.” Flying ships, it sounded like something out of a book.
Humming fills the air, accompanied by deep voices singing.
“That sounds beautiful,” I say, wandering off the trail, not caring if the others join me. I follow the music, keeping my steps light and silent so I don’t spook whoever is out here.
Standing in a circle around one of the trees is a crowd of men sporting long, white beards tall enough to reach my ankle.
“They’re gnomes,” Effie whispers, startling me in the process. Her locs flow free around her face, freckles a shade deeper than her skin speckles the bridge of her nose. She’s relaxed like she’s finally home.
“What’re they doing to the tree?” I ask as a gnome takes a small red device from a glass case. It glows red in the gnome’s hands as he approaches the tree. The trunk opens, the bark unravels creating a hole, and the gnome places the glowing device inside before it closes back up without a trace of damage. Other gnomes stand around the tree singing the whole time.
“It’s a bestowing. They’re giving a sapling their heart,” Effie says, nudging me back to the path. Cutting me off from the scene before me.
“Trees have hearts? I’ve never heard of a tree needing a heart before." Not in Demendia. Not in school, not working the fields. Maybe it has to do with the type of tree it is. These are much bigger than anything I have ever dared to imagine.
“It’s a little magic and a little science that truly gives the trees lives of their own. It also helps them grow,” Effie says smiling, holding up a hand when I go to ask another question. “You’ll see what I mean when we get into the city.” It takes everything in me to nod and return to the path instead of launching the rest of my questions at her.
“You okay?” I ask, leaning into Embla who is walking the very edge of the path collecting leaves and plant clippings.
“There are so many plants, and they’re so beautiful. I want to grow them all,” Embla whispers, falling silent again, her eyes jumping from plant to plant as she fawns over each flower we pass. Oddly, they perk up with every kind word that leaves her lips. Mature saplings give way to ginormous trees, each with a gnome sitting in a chair beside them as they converse, some of the gnomes reading to the trees. The trees hum, a nice timbre that resonates along the ground making it vibrate as they harmonize, happily adding to the music of the forest.
“We have to keep moving, we're almost there,” Effie’s whispers to me.
We tiptoe through the path not wanting to disturb those reading or talking quietly among themselves. The hum of the trees follows us through the forest until the trees become even taller than Demendia’s dome. They become so tall, their branches so full, I can’t tell whether it's the canopy that I’m looking at or if the trees continue and branches are just blocking my view. Round doors are set into the trunks, each a bright color. Unlit strings of lights zig zag above my head as the chaos of a living city engulfs me. The streets are lined with fae, my eyes bounce between them all. Some sport horns, antlers, so many different wings, and each pointed ear is a different length. Each fae goes about their daily lives, not paying much attention to the humans who are visiting for the first time in a long while. Small gnomes have their own smaller street off to the side that is just as active. Small pixies flit through the air calling out to each other with voices that sound like bells.
Balconies high up in the tree are barely visible through the thick branches.
“Ash, look,” Embla says, bringing my attention to a group of women, each has a set of six wings. Their edges are ridged, but somehow still elegant against their bodies. But the one that catches my eye is the blue one, and I can’t put my finger on why the faerie is so familiar.
“The high faerie queens, they don’t spend much time here, they prefer the Bjartr forest,” Thea explains as she lands next to our group. The high faeries make their way over a white bridge in the middle of the city, with a large lion sculpted into either side as if to guard the forest from the city itself. A crystal blue river divides the two territories.
“Are we going there?” I take a step in the direction of the bridge and Effie’s arm shoots out stopping me.
“Only faeries are allowed on the other side of the bridge, the lions won’t let anyone else pass.” She motions to the two statues. “We have to go to the castle anyway and speak to the King about granting your asylum,” she continues, turning in the opposite direction.
Trees cover every available space, excluding the streets. There are a couple of ancient buildings interspersed through the trees. The one I can see clearly has white stone pillars that hold up the roof carved with images of their history. Precious metals and jewels shimmer along the walls adding color to what I assume is a part of fae history.
“They’re old temples we repurposed when the gods left,” Effie says, catching my gaze. “The carvings tell the story of the eight gods and how life on this planet began.” The temples are in great condition unlike Demendia’s decrepit ruins that run along the outskirts of most districts.
“Welcome to my home,” Effie says and smiles broadly.
“They all look so, so human,” I mutter, taking in the humanoid magicals. A gasp escapes Embla when one of them shifts into a horse-sized wolf.
“What did you expect? Underlings? They tend to stay in the household they serve,” Thea says as she cracks a smile.
“The monsters you used to hunt, they aren’t fae or faerie but a different kind of magic all on their own,” Effie reminds as she places a hand on the small of my back, and I have to ignore the urge to shake off the unexpected touch as I let her guide me back into the crowd. I step on the street and notice the way it gives under my boot is different from the hard ground of the path we were just on. This road seems to have some bounce to it. I kneel, nudging it slightly before pushing down on it with one of my hands.
“Moss?” I ask upon my closer inspection.
“A lot of people here, me included,” Effie says, looking down at her boot-clad feet, “prefer being barefoot and feeling the connection with the forest. The moss is a way for us to do it comfortably, and it protects our feet.” She smiles. I’ve never lived somewhere where being barefoot is the norm. I was always the one getting funny looks as a child for running through the yard without shoes. Papa usually chased behind me trying to force my feet into the tiny jail cells that would always squish my toes. Effie goes back to scrutinizing the street trying to find an opening in the crowd for our group to slip through. I join her surveying the crowd that passes, and sure enough, our group is the only one wearing shoes. I can see hooves, and toes alike, as the people of Myrr meander through the streets.
Not waiting another moment, I make the decision to slip out of my own shoes. My excitement buzzes under my skin. Have I found a place, a people who will accept me for who I am finally? Or will the fae of Myrr judge me as harshly as the humans of Demendia? I take a few steps away from Effie, Embla, and Thea. I’ll catch up with them in a moment, as long as I can still see them, it’ll be okay. I prop my booted foot up on a root of a nearby tree and start to untie the laces.
“What’re you doing to my house?” a small voice drifts up from beneath me. I look around, and when I don’t find the source, I shrug before going back to untying my laces and pulling my boot off. I release a sigh as my toes are free.
“Down here, gigantor!” the voice sounds again from below me, and I glance down to find an eight-inch-tall pot bellied man with a sun hat fashioned from leaves.
“Oh!” I startle, removing my boot from the root. “I am so sorry; I had no idea. Did I break anything in your home?” I ask, inspecting the root closely noting the ten-inch-wide round door that sits in the largest portion of the root.
“Thankfully no, but it sounded like a baby hareog was working out its zoomies on the roof. I’m writing a book, and I need absolute silence.” The gnome crosses his arms.
“I apologize for the disruption. I just wanted to take off my boots before continuing my journey.” I motion to my one-socked foot, the other still in its boot.
The small faerie rolls his eyes before snapping his fingers, and the laces quickly uncurl from their bow and loosen. I pull my foot out of the shoe and my eyebrows raise, impressed with his use of magic.
“Thank you, sir. Does your book have a title? I have half a mind to look it up when it is finished.” The man beams, his cheeks turning red and then deepening as his flush grows down his neck.
“Herbology for Beginners by T. Malachi,” his tone oozes pride, losing the frustration from a moment ago.
“Well, thank you, Sir Malachi.” I hastily use his name when he shoots me a look. “I look forward to reading it when you’ve finished.” The man bows his head before turning and entering the small door set into the tree root.
I stand up straight, my eyes going back to the spot I last saw my little group of travelers only for the road to be overrun with the unfamiliar crowd.
“Shit,” I mumble to myself. They’ll realize I’m not with them eventually, right? My stomach drops at the realization I’m all alone, in a new place I’ve never been before and the thought grips in a new emotion—one that is pure excitement. I’ve always wanted to travel, to see the world. I’m finally in a city with centuries of knowledge stored away, and this is an opportunity to explore, to learn what I can before my responsibilities take over the visit. Without the knowledge of where to go in this unknown city, I pick a direction and start walking, silently hoping I chose the right direction and will eventually catch up with my group. Maybe even see something interesting along the way.
I wander through the streets, stopping in front of every tree to gaze at its branches, caught in wonder. I enter a different part of the city, and the trees in this part are covered with glass bottles full of glowing lights. Wooden and metal signs advertising various shops protrude from the trunks indicating shops of every kind that specialize in different things, from herbs and other plants to furniture and to cosmetics. The round doors here are made of glass that give me the opportunity to peek inside. I come to a purple painted door that stands out among the others. A thick black metal sign hangs from a small limb over the door.
“The Fallen General’s Tavern”
I reach the sign and something pricks at the back of my neck as I consider entering.
“Are you coming in or going?” a stiff voice says, sounding like it's coming from the door itself.
“Hello?” I ask, looking around me before squinting my eyes and peering at the door itself.
“I am Dwellin, the tree that houses the General’s Tavern and Inn. Are you a guest or are you loitering?” the stiff voice asks again and my eyes grow wide. This tree talks. Holy shit. The trees here talk. “Either way, you’re blocking the door,” the voice says again.
“I’m going in,” I say, making up my mind, and the door swings open on Dwellin’s volition.
“My scanners tell me you are of age even if you are a human. Please enjoy responsibly, and do stay away from the vampires,” Dwellin calls behind me as I walk in.