Chapter 14 #2
Evander and Tane bring our drinks to the table and slide into the booth with us. The band resumes with something cheery. The revelers, revitalized, head back on the dance floor, and Mathilda eyes Tane.
“No, I just sat down,” he whines.
Mathilda begins pushing us out of the booth to drag Tane to the dance floor.
Giggles bubble out of me when I see Tane wiggling his hips to the beat while Mathilda sways along to the rhythm.
They paint such a portrait of happiness that it’s hard not to be a bit jealous.
Evander and Mina are immersed in conversation, their heads bent towards each other, a smile gracing Mina’s lips before she takes a sip of her wine.
It’s fun being with them, but the loneliness of being the fifth wheel starts to creep in. I take a sip of my wine to fill the time. Unfortunately, it does nothing to diminish the burning between my shoulder blades that’s ramping back up.
Several songs later, Tane and Mathilda haven’t stepped a foot off the dance floor, and now Mina and Evander have joined them. All four of them dance and jump along to the band on stage. My delight grows watching them.
But a prickling sensation tickles the back of my head, like I’m being watched. I shift in my seat, scanning the tavern.
No one is blatantly staring at me, but the feeling remains.
The band begins playing another cheery song, the music blending with the stomping of the dancers’ feet.
Evander pulls me from the booth and onto the dance floor.
I fall into step between Mina and Mathilda, laughter flowing out of each of us as we stomp to the beat and twirl in place.
This is the most fun I’ve had in what seems like ages.
But it’s only been two or three very long days since I was smiling across the North Sea with Lach. The realization ripples through me like a stone dropped in water.
After the song, Evander and Mina walk with me to our table, but as they settle into the booth, I pause.
“I think I’m gonna head back,” I call to Evander and Mina over the music. “I’ve got an early training session in the morning with Julius, and I’m exhausted.”
They both frown, but Mina asks, “Are you sure? We can walk you back.”
“Nah, I’m ok. You guys have fun. Tell Mathilda and Tane I said bye,” I reply over my shoulder. I shoulder my way through the crowd. Careful to avoid wings and spilled mead on the floor.
The sound of the music and laughter tumbles out of the door after me. Outside, the night air is crisp, and I draw in a lungful. The coolness refreshes my balmy skin. Music from the tavern follows me up most of the street before it finally quiets.
There are still quite a few people outside enjoying the night on patios or strolling together down the street to different taverns. Lost in a daze, the flames of the lanterns flickering overhead, hushed conversations from the surrounding people begin to pierce through my thoughts.
Two male teens turn onto the street in front of me. Their voices are agitated, and my ears strain to hear them. I wonder if they are part of the curfew-breaking teens Ashur complained about. I only manage to pick up pieces of their conversation. Something about the great tree and how it’s an omen.
Great tree?
I haven’t heard anyone mention that yet. How could a tree be an omen?
They begin vibrating with outrage, the larger one exclaiming, “It’s really dying, I’ll show you!”
The urge to follow them outweighs my exhaustion, and I trail behind them at a comfortable distance. They walk briskly towards the center of the capital, and I’m grateful they stick to the main streets so I don’t attract their notice.
We take the second bridge that crosses over the Ayele River, the water still and reflecting the night sky above.
The city on this side of the river is different from the part of the city Odessa paraded me through.
With each new street I turn down, the buildings become farther apart.
No longer are there flower pots or decorated store windows.
Here, the buildings themselves look more medieval than decorative.
The colorful, bright buildings shift into plain white stone with red-tiled roofs.
It’s not run down by any means, but it’s not the picturesque street that I was led to believe encompassed the entire capital.
The street lanterns get farther apart, and before long, only the blazing light of the stars illuminates the path.
The teens turn off the main street and walk through a narrow gate, the wood creaking open is their last sign before I lose sight of them. Beyond the gate is a footpath with muted lights on either side, lighting my way.
However, the lights aren’t flames like the street lamps. They are glowing orbs resting on tall stones. The winding path leads to the top of a small hill, and at its peak is the base of the largest ash tree I’ve ever seen. The trunk rivals that of the redwoods we would drive through in California.
The glowing orbs shine all around the tree in welcome, and a few more are sporadically placed high up into the tree itself. The orbs shine into its branches, highlighting its majesty even on a night as dark as this.
The tree is surrounded by a garden, a babbling brook singing in the distance, and several wooden benches placed under the broad branches of the tree.
I walk under an outstretched branch, leading me to the trunk.
Leaves flutter above me, but they don’t sound like normal leaves because they’re not leaves at all, but strips of fabric.
There are thousands tied along the lower branches.
My mother used to cut strips like these during Yule, and we would tie them to the branches as wishes for the Father.
A strong wind rips through the garden, whipping fallen pieces of my hair across my eyes and making them water.
Leaves begin cascading down upon me as the mighty wind tears them from the tree. The iciness of the wind lifts the hair on my arms.
The sight of the leaves being thrown so forcefully makes my chest tighten. Something is very wrong here. I struggle to look up at the tree and shield my eyes from the wind. The orbs in the branches dim and resemble glowing eyes.
But as violently as it came, the wind suddenly stops. The leaves now flutter peacefully to the ground. The staggering calm the wind left in its wake should have brought a sigh of relief, but high up in the tree, there are completely bare branches.
Sadness creeps over me. This great, majestic tree is withering away and slowly dying. Is this from magic fading or something more?
I plop down on a bench and tilt my head back to the sky, fighting to keep the warring emotions at bay.
A tree this old, withering away, is heartbreaking.
Ribbons of greenish blue light begin to dance overheard, setting ablaze the stars that dance between the branches of the mighty tree.
The sight of them soothes a bit of the sadness permeating my mind.
It’s so stunningly beautiful in this magical place.
When the shadow of a large bird flies overhead, blotting out clusters of stars, I try to follow its flight to determine if it’s an actual bird or a guard.
But I lose sight of it through branches that still have a few leaves clinging to them, those branches looking healthy and full of life.
I’m disappointed I wasn’t shown this on my brief tour of the city, but I’m even more surprised that it wasn’t even mentioned.
Or was it? When I first arrived, Odessa said weird things were happening, and she had hoped that when they heard the charm, it meant my mother was finally returning to restore things. But this seems more foreboding than that. More along the lines of what Mathilda said.
If I stay, will the tree begin to heal? The decision to stay and fulfill my duty begins to take root, with each falling leaf that flutters down. I watch as several more fall, but the sadness it brings pushes me off the bench and back to the Great Hall. I can’t witness any more of it.
I have to do something to help, and quickly.
With each step away from the dying tree, my new path opens up before me.
I begin planning what I can do to help. The first thing I need to do is tell Odessa about the abuse from Julius.
Suffering through that will get me nowhere, and if I want to help, I need to push myself so my powers will manifest. I also need to ask her to teach me how to travel back and forth so I can visit Gran.
My self-reflection is interrupted, though, when a wiry man with bright white hair is thrown from a pub.
“War is COMING, and we should all get ready, you fools!”
The doors swing shut. Luna materializes from the shadows beside the pub, the moonlight bathing her in its glow.
She looks serene, her feet gliding over the ground with each step as she approaches him.
She pauses a foot away, holds one slender finger to her lips, and whispers something, but I’m not close enough to hear her words.
The yelling man goes rigid and silent. I’ve only seen her twice now, but something about her makes me want to avoid her at all costs.
A sense of foreboding rises in the air. Dread has my knees trembling.
I scurry my way to my room, nausea roiling in my stomach from uneasiness or exhaustion, I can’t tell.
Before I get ready for bed, I take one last look at my appearance.
My cheeks are flushed, and my eyes still glow brightly.
I barely recognize myself, and my parents probably wouldn’t recognize me either.
I tip my medallion up to study it closer, running my fingertips over the poppy engraved in the center of the swirling runes.
“Am I where I’m supposed to be now, Mom?” I whisper, before letting it rest on my chest again.
Warmth blooms when the cool metal nestles against my skin, like a sign convincing me to stay here, see this through, and try to help in any way that I can.