Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Iona watched from beyond the trees as Liam left the note.
Perhaps she would have spoken to him, if not for her obstinate mood that morning. In the hours after she’d left Vall, the loggers had begun moving in their heavy machinery, the equipment digging into the ground. They did not bother to keep quiet.
The note that Liam left, likely an apology, felt low on her list of priorities, but still she crept over to stare at it. She thought about leaving it in the rain, letting the water turn it to pulp, out of spite. But she was stubborn, not malicious, so she relented.
Iona read the note once, then twice. It wasn’t a bad idea. She knew there were many plants that grew in the valley that could harm humans that came into contact with them. But she would need help weaponizing them.
She thought first of Eli, most gifted with the plants that grew in the understory—but there was another among them equally gifted, with a much more creative mind. Iona stepped through to Orla’s maple, a tree she did not find reason to visit often but one she was familiar with.
Orla’s maple was tucked among a number of other towering maples, though hers was the only one with sentience. Moss draped its limbs, contrasting with the bright and fiery color of the autumn leaves. Iona placed a gentle hand on the tree’s trunk, calling Orla out.
Within seconds, her human shape materialized, closer to Iona than she’d been expecting, causing her to jump. Orla’s musical laugh rang out through the trees.
“Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to startle you. What brings you here?” Orla leaned against the heavy trunk of the maple. Her long, brilliant green hair was adorned with brambles and flowers of the understory. She did not have antlers like Eli. Instead, small white flowers bloomed in a crown around the top of her head. Iona had always been slightly jealous of Orla’s natural beauty, her features willowy and delicate. She stood several inches taller than Iona, with long limbs that moved with a grace above that of the rest of their kin.
“I have an idea, but I need your help,” Iona told her, and Orla’s smile widened.
***
“I look ridiculous,” Orla pouted, looking down at herself.
She was dressed in a heavy coat to protect from the rain which would not have ordinarily bothered her. She’d disguised her appearance, the normal green of her skin now a dull and rosy pink, her green hair now brunette and void of foliage—it was a small trick that her kin were capable of, though they found little reason to use it.
By all accounts, Orla looked very human, and not very happy about it.
“It is necessary. This way, they’ll be so enamored by your beauty they won’t think twice about accepting your gift,” Iona said with a sly smile. The tea had finished brewing on the old wood stove, and she poured it carefully into the thermos Liam had left under her tree. It was a devious plan that wouldn’t cause any lasting harm, but could be enough to deter the loggers from the area they’d moved into. At the very least, they wouldn’t be getting much work done, once the tea did its job.
“And I’ll have to talk to them, no less.” Orla was still complaining, but she took the thermos, so Iona knew it was just for show. She had the tendency to be a bit dramatic. “At least it will be worth it, to watch the aftermath. ”
Orla sniffed at the tea she’d created, then nodded to herself and screwed the lid on tight.
“Don’t forget, you want to find their leader—his name is Andrew,” Iona reminded her, before giving her a rundown of the description as she remembered it.
“I got it, I got it. Let’s get this over with.”
Then they stepped through, emerging from the forest just beyond the clearing where the marked trees stood, heavy machinery whirring and grinding in their ears. There were about twenty or so Douglas fir trees marked with orange blazes, their destruction imminent.
Iona watched for some time until the loggers appeared to be take a break, the machinery falling silent and the crew hung up their gear. The timing couldn’t have been better if Iona had tried—their heavy gloves and work coats were hung by a truck, asking to be sabotaged. The humans were loosely gathered in the area, talking amongst themselves. All men, built quite muscular from the hard work in the field. Most of them sported beards of varying length, their heavy boots making deep tracks through the mud.
Iona wasn’t overly familiar with the tools of their trade. Most obvious was the large truck, fashioned with metal arms that reached skyward, ready to cradle the fallen timber for transportation. This truck sat empty, waiting. The other machines looked like giant insects with their jointed, metal limbs, nasty and efficient. Iona often imagined strong-bodied humans with axes, chopping at the tree trunks until they fell—but this was something else entirely. The Acernae of old would be appalled at these tools, capable of felling whole forests in a matter of days. Did the Elders know of these things? Had they seen them in action before?
The machines each had small glass containers, equipped with a seat to shield the operator from the rain. A set of controls maneuvered the reaching limbs, allowing them to work beyond the limitations of the human body.
There were only a handful of humans, six in total. She picked out the three she recognized easily, and pointed Andrew out to Orla. He was bent over a map which was spread out over the hood of a large pickup truck. Iona frowned at the near-giddy grin on his smug face, eager to wipe it away .
“That’s him,” Iona pointed.
Orla nodded, then pulled her hood up and prepared to trudge through the muddy clearing. “Here goes,” she said.
The moment the men noticed Orla, Iona realized the plan would work better than either of them could imagine. Andrew narrowed his eyes at her, but Jimmy was practically salivating at the pretty thing before him, and Iona had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. Human men were so predictable. A number of the others wandered over to Orla, like moths drawn to a particularly gorgeous flame. Then Iona made her move.
She clutched at the pack on her hip, filled with the small clippings of what Liam had called poison oak. Iona hurried through the work zone, tucking the twigs into any gloves or jackets she could find. With a quick gesture and a bit of magic, she encouraged the leaves inside to grow, filling the space with poisonous oils. The men would be in for a nasty surprise upon donning their gear—the welts and blisters would last for days. She felt only the smallest twinge of guilt.
Along the way, she hesitated only once to peek at the machines, the sharp metal chains meant to rend her precious trees, claws to grab and rip them from the earth. Already, their heavy tracks had ripped through the understory, leaving shredded fern fronds and bent branches in their wake. Iona banished her guilt—this was simply revenge. And none of it was truly lethal. The blisters would burn, but then they’d fade. The tea, when consumed, would cause them to—as Orla had put it—“shit their brains out” for a few hours, but that would be all. No lasting harm. Which could not be said for the trees whose existence in this valley had been cut short by the greed of those very men.
Finished with her portion of the job, Iona glanced over to find Orla still engaged with the loggers, their rapt attention on her every word. Iona let out a bird call indistinguishable from the real thing, the signal which the two had agreed upon before putting the plan in action. On cue, Orla broke off and retreated with a rueful expression back into the forest beyond. The men’s eyes were on her as she walked away, the expression not dissimilar from how a cat might watch its prey.
No, these men deserved what they would get .
Orla joined her at the edge of the clearing, shook off her human guise with a sigh of relief, then cracked a wicked grin.
“Those fools didn’t even think twice,” she said with a tilt of her chin. “Shall we wait and watch?”
Jimmy took a drink of the poisoned tea, demonstrating an amazing lack of common sense. He grimaced at the taste before passing it along to Andrew and the others to try.
Not so giddy about their success as Orla clearly was, Iona felt only relief that they’d bought themselves some time. Hopefully Liam was making progress to find a long term solution. Iona glanced in the direction of Liam’s family home, a few miles away through the trees. Perhaps she should pay him a visit, thank him for the inspiration. Or perhaps he was still busy with his human friends, and there was nothing to be said between them.
“No, let’s go back to the others. They’ll want to hear all about it,” she said, then grabbed Orla’s hand and followed her back to the hideout.
***
“Are you even listening?” Annie complained.
Liam had not, in fact, been listening, and admitted as much. Apparently, she’d been talking for some time, but he’d been too lost in staring out the window.
“These sketches are really good, Liam. I was saying that if you wanted to, you could probably get them published. Write a field guide, or something. I have some friends in non-fiction that would love to see your work, I could pass it along to them, if you wanted.”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, but his eyes still focused on the trees beyond. He’d felt guilty, not waiting around to make sure Iona saw the note, but he needed to get back to the house to finish packing and avoid arousing suspicion. The latter objective had not been going well, however.
Across the room, Zev sighed, setting down the stack of books they were sorting through with a dull thud. “What is up with you, man? Ever since we got here you’ve been acting weird. Is there a gas leak or something we should know about?”
“No, nothing like that,” Liam said, and turned back to the packing. They’d been making excellent progress, a fact which made Liam strangely unhappy. In fact, his mood had been souring progressively as the day went on.
His gaze fell on the stack of books Zev placed on the coffee table, their bright yellow pages giving him an idea. Maybe there was more he could do to be helpful.
He dashed across the room, avoiding the startled looks of his roommates, and grabbed the book on top of the pile. It weighed several pounds, and the pages were so thin they were difficult to pry apart from one another as he cracked it open. He ran a finger along the row of names, muttering to himself as he went, and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as they slipped downwards.
He found it.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and punched in the number listed on the phone book, holding his breath for it to ring. But it did not ring, and disappointment soon followed when an automated woman’s voice informed him the line was no longer in service.
He swore under his breath. Another dead end.
Liam was on the verge of putting his wet boots back on, tramping back into the rain to find this Walter Shaw, when a sound roused him from the thought.
A small bird, gray with a head of black feathers, had perched on the windowsill closest to him, and pecked once on the pane. He looked up, and the bird pecked again, twice this time. They stared each other down for a long moment before Liam realized what the bird wanted of him, and who had sent it.
Then he really did put his boots back on, pulling the coat around himself as water rolled off it onto the floor. Again he ignored the confused and alarmed stares of his roommates. “I gotta take Maple out, I’ll be back,” he shouted as the door closed, and followed the bird out into the trees.
Maple was happy to be outside again, after spending the last few hours lounging in front of the fire. The same couldn’t be said for Liam, but setting foot under the canopy of dense tree cover always lifted his spirits, no matter how cold or wet it was.
Those spirits were further lifted when a red-haired figure stepped out from behind a thick Douglas fir along the path in front of him. She was learning how to avoid scaring him, and that appearing from thin air within arm’s reach was not the best way to begin a conversation. A grin spread across his face as their eyes met, and he realized then how much he was growing to enjoy her presence.
The black-capped chickadee perched on Iona’s outstretched hand. She gave it something small from her pocket, whispering soft words before it flew away.
She looked different. Her hair was pulled back into intricate braids with strands of moss and decorative fibers woven into them. They sat neatly under her tiny horns. She was beautiful, ethereal, even, and it made Liam’s knees go weak.
Her smile was warm as their eyes met, and she stepped closer to him. “Liam, thank you for the note—your suggestion was wonderful, and the loggers have all gone home for the day.” Her smile faded as she continued. “Though I fear we might not have stalled them as long as we’d hoped. There are others among them who plan to continue the work in the morning.”
Liam figured that might be the case, but the move had bought them some time.
He pulled the map Evelyn gave him from his pocket, unfolding it carefully to keep it safe from the rain. “Do you know of any houses, in this area?” he asked, and pointed out the circled area that demarcated the property of Walter Shaw. Contained within that boundary was the first of the felled trees they’d discovered.
Iona leaned closer, her warmth radiating from her small frame. She studied the map, and Liam watched as she concentrated, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “If there is, I have not seen it. But the others might, I will inquire. You hope to find this man?”
“Yeah. My hands are tied right now, but Walter owns the property here—” he pointed, “—and can press charges, if I can convince him. But to do that, I need to find him, and he’s been hard to track down so far.”
Iona began to reply, but her eyes landed somewhere just over Liam’s shoulder. With pursed lips, she returned her gaze to him and nodded pointedly. “You trust them?”
Zev and Annie had followed him into the forest .
Liam looked back at her, noticing the weariness he saw in her eyes, but there was something else lurking there as well. She’d been spotted, of course, so leaving now would only draw more attention to her presence.
“There’s nobody else in the world I’d trust more than those two,” he told Iona.
Her shoulders relaxed but she took a half-step back, positioning Liam between herself and the strangers.
“I knew you were up to something,” Zev called as they approached. “What are you doing out here?”
As Zev and Annie took in Iona’s true form, the features that made her different, their eyes went wide in unison. Liam cleared his throat.
“Zev, Annie, this is Iona,” he said.
Annie nodded, mumbling a greeting with her eyes still wide.
Zev’s jaw dropped, and they did nothing to hide their reaction. “I don’t mean to be rude, but like… what is she?” Zev asked, before flushing and speaking to Iona directly. “Or, you. Sorry. What are you, exactly?”
Iona was stiff behind Liam and her voice came out tight. “We are called Acernae. We are… guardians of the forest in this valley.”
Neither of them said anything as the words sunk in, and Liam raked his fingers through his hair. He’d not bothered with the hat this time, in his rush to get out the door, and heavy water droplets had gathered on his glasses, making it difficult to see.
“I’m sorry, what? Liam, are you sure there’s no gas leak, or anything out here?” Zev asked, but Annie lay a hand on their arm. The touch was light, but it caught Liam’s attention.
“This is why you’ve been acting strange, then?” Annie asked. She seemed less surprised by the truth of what Iona was—which made sense, as someone who’d spent just as much time in these forests as Liam had. She turned to Iona then with a gracious smile. “It’s lovely to meet you. I grew up underneath these trees, and they’ll always feel like home to me.”
Iona looked at her a moment, and her features too seemed to soften. “I know—I have seen you here before, when you were small.”
Annie looked like she was going to say something else, but Liam cut her off, sensing the conversation would be derailed otherwise .
“Look,” he told them, “we can all catch up later, but we’ve got a problem to deal with, and we’re running out of time.”
Liam spent the next several minutes relaying everything he knew about the illegal lumber theft and the loggers who’d threatened him and Maple in the clearing. He told them of the property lines, and his conversation with Evelyn about jurisdiction and the need to talk to Walter Shaw.
“Thanks to Liam’s quick thinking, we were able to stall them for a day or so, but they’ll be back tomorrow and they weren’t very happy,” Iona said when Liam had finished.
Annie, whose concern seemed to blossom into outright anger by the end of the story, looked to Liam. “That’s what the note was about this morning?” she asked.
Liam nodded.
“I see.” Annie looked down at the ground, her eyebrows knit tight with concentration. They all looked at her expectantly, but she said nothing else.
“You say they’ve brought their machinery out here?” Zev asked, and a horribly mischievous look flitted across their face.
Iona nodded. “Yes, there were about a half-dozen men out there this morning too.”
“Can you show us?” Zev asked. The enthusiasm behind the question was becoming a bit alarming.
Liam exchanged a glance with Annie, but she didn’t seem concerned. Maybe because she didn’t know Zev like he did.
“I can. We should join hands,” Iona instructed.
They had formed a circle, hand in hand, before Liam realized what was about to happen. “Uh, take a deep breath, this is gonna be unpleasant,” he warned them, slipping his own fingers around Maple’s collar. As soon as the words had left his lips, the forest around them fell away.