CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Their spirits have lightened when the sun touches the horizon, and I can tell we’re almost there. We climb a short hill surmounted by an imposing oak. It sits upon the land, a giant among men. There is a small clearing around its base in which a layer of moss covers the limbs of a massive root system that has erupted from the ground. It stretches out far beyond the clearing, its fingers growing thinner the further it snakes along the land. It is a magnificent tree, larger in width than any I have seen. Its gnarled branches twist in stunning elegance, as if each turn were planned over the ages. I don’t even try to turn my head upward to glimpse the top, but rather marvel at its trunk.

Beyond the oak I finally notice that the hill’s opposite side descends sharply into a deep valley. Expansive trees file along the hillside blanketing it in a lush green. Far in the distance past the rolling hills of forest sits the falling sun. It’s reflecting brightly off a line of silver. I shadow my eyes to get a better look. Am I seeing correctly?

“It is the ocean.” Dorian stands beside me, admiring the scenery as if it were his first time as well.

“The … ocean?” I search my memory for the word. The trees I knew from within the University’s walls. I have studied whatever information was given about the outer boundaries of Odon’s land, but an ocean? The word is foreign yet intriguing. I await Dorian’s explanation, eager to hear of what lies beyond Odon’s territory.

“Yes.” Dorian seems to be searching within his head for the right explanation. “It’s like a vast water-filled land. I have only ever been there once as a child, but I wish to return someday.”

I smile in sincerity and turn back to the horizon, straining my eyes to try and get a better view of the silver lining. How had I never heard of such a place? Where land ends and water begins? I stare a moment longer, trying to imagine how large this world is, how many things I do not know about it. I feel so small. I restrain an urge to run full speed into the horizon. Instead I turn back and face the others, who have come to a stop.

Tor has halted at the base of the large oak and peers up through its network of branches.

He is a tall man, yet is dwarfed in comparison. He stands a moment longer, focusing above. The sun has moved to the base of the hilltop, and a shaft of light shines through to strike Tor with an orange glow. My curiosity grows as he removes a mirror from his pocket and angles it so that the rays of sunlight hit the mirror and reflect in a golden beam, straight up the trunk of the tree to the air beyond.

His hand drops to his side once a light from above lands upon his face. His eyes squinting, he raises his other arm to shield his face.

Following this, a rope ladder drops abruptly, very nearly hitting him in the face. He dodges it in time. This is followed by a ripple of laughter from above, which he returns with a glare. Dorian chuckles from beside me, yet I am far too much in awe to find anything laughable.

Tor gestures to the others who are waiting behind him. “Malise, you first. I’ll bring Azura up.” He turns to take her weight from the part-blood boy. Malise starts up the ladder. She quickly reaches a breathtaking height, but it doesn’t seem to bother her, and she continues upward with an unchanging speed. When she is lost from view behind a bough that must be twice as thick as my body, I return my attention to those still on firm ground. Toby is the next to head up.

The other part-blood helps Azura onto Tor’s back. She wraps her arms tightly around his neck and then encircles her legs around his waist, supporting her bad ankle with the other one as he pulls himself onto the first rung. The part-blood glances at Dorian and me before following close behind, wary of Azura and aiding the best he can. I turn away, and the thought of falling from that height leaves a painful pit in my stomach. When I look again, they have disappeared with the others into the arms of the oak.

“Are you ready?” Dorian stands by the ladder, one hand steadying it, the other reaching toward me.

I laugh nervously without meaning to. “Not really.”

He shrugs. “It’s safe enough.” He tugs on the ladder firmly.

“Oh good,” I chuckle, holding back a small shriek.

I take a large breath that is more like a gulp and fasten my hands around the highest rung of the ladder that I can reach from the ground. I step up, unwilling to leave the solid ground; the ladder is unsteady with my weight. I think of the others. They weren’t afraid. Even young Malise had made it in no time. I keep taking steps, refusing to look below, concentrating on the rope in front of me. I feel Dorian latch on below me, and the ladder swings dangerously. I hold my breath and close my eyes, gripping the ladder till my hands turn white. The ladder regains a decent steadiness, and I start upward again, anxious now to reach the top, wherever that may be. I start off slow now that Dorian’s weight is shuddering the ropes with each pull. Somehow I manage to find a rhythm, and my speed increases.

I only realize I’ve made it to the top when hands grab my arms and hoist me onto a platform. I had not expected there to be a solid surface so far above actual land. The platform of wood is wedged between two thick branches and strapped down securely. I sit, attempting to recover from the treacherous climb. Once upon the firmness of the platform, I take in my surroundings. The platform is bordered with a rope fence made of woven fabric and vines for protection. I still prefer to remain near the trunk. Above I notice that the canopy is full of layers of platforms, rope ladders hanging from each one. It’s like a vertical city rising high into the oak’s branches.

Dorian reaches the top soon after and pulls himself over the ledge and onto the platform. The surrounding company approaches to greet him with playful shoves and smacks upon his back. I notice that they all seem to be of a similar age, not much older or younger than myself.

“I can’t believe you actually did it!” a dark-haired boy shouts, shaking Dorian’s hand roughly.

Dorian looks downward modestly, not saying much other than “Anyone could’ve done it” as others come to congratulate him.

Two young girls standing behind me whisper to each other, “He really is a half-blood.”

“He must be, only a half-blood could have done what he did and live to tell about it,” the other chimes in. I glance behind me, but the girls have disappeared into the crowd.

Two hands grasp me from behind and hoist me to my feet. I steady myself and turn to face Tor, displaying his dimpled grin. “So you’ve made it. You were becoming quite pale last time I saw you. I’m glad you decided to join us anyway.”

I smile. “I’ve been through worse.”

“I’m sure you have.”

“Is Azura all right?” I ask, not finding her among the others. Toby and Malise linger around Dorian as he tells the intrigued crowd of his courageous rescue.

“She has been brought to the healers; they’ll fix her up, and she’ll be as good as new fairly soon. Liam has gone to look after her as well.”

Liam must be the other part-blood.

My questions will not stop there. I have a multitude buzzing inside my head. The first: “What is this place?”

Tor looks at me as if expecting the question. “This is our home, the Great Oak. Our only refuge from Odon, established by rebels a generation ago when Odon was first rising into power.”

“Odon doesn’t know about it?” I’ve been told that Odon knows everything. He sees all; there is no escaping him.

“If he did, I don’t think we would still be here,” Tor answers.

I nod. I’m sure that Odon enjoys his power. He wouldn’t want it to be threatened by anyone, specifically a group of rebellious part-bloods.

I have another question. “There was a time when Odon was not in power?”

“When I was a child, the rebels were still attempting a complete revolution.” He shakes his head to clear the memory. “Odon is strong, but his power only reaches those who let it, remember that.” He gives a wink. Then he strides toward Dorian, the others taking notice as Tor approaches.

“I think Dorian has had enough praise for one day,” Tor shouts addressing the crowd. “Trust me, his ego doesn’t need it.” The group ignites with laughter and a few nods of regretful agreement. “How about we have an early dinner?”

There are no retorts of any kind as the youths hurry toward the opposite end of the platform. As they pass me, some shoot looks of suspicion. I focus on the ground, knowing that my hair remains just as brightly yellow as ever. I’m grateful as they disappear around the platform’s corner where it curves against the trunk of the tree.

“Sorry about that.” Dorian is beside me, watching the others hurry away. I jump slightly, thinking he has seen the others look at me. Then he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, and I realize he is talking of their excitement over him.

I relax slightly and shake my head. “No, don’t apologize, you deserve it.”

He concentrates on the branches above, unable to look at me while accepting the compliment. “Thanks. Are you hungry?”

I laugh. “Of course.”

I follow him as he makes his way down the platform, taking the same path around the trunk that the others had. As we turn the corner, we come across a building lying firmly upon the platform. I was not sure what to expect as shelter, but the wooden construction is impressive and fits snugly within the oak’s branches. The rounded roof is made of a single bending branch as its sole support, surrounded by smaller branches gathered and neatly laid along the curve of the main branch. The building hugs the trunk of the tree, wrapping around it and out of sight. It’s impossible to see its true extent.

The building glows slightly, and the smell of something sweet drifts past us from within. As I stare from the entranceway, an opening sheltered by a slanted awning, I notice the approaching night has darkened everything. I blink a few times to be able to see Dorian’s form as he hurries forward. A cool breeze kicks up and encircles us. I walk close to him, hugging myself to keep warm. There is a new life in the forest, sounds I have never heard before, coming from creatures I cannot see. It is a peaceful song that grows as the sun’s light shrinks. As I look out, past the ropes into the canopy of leaves, I see a small yellow light wink on and off. I approach the edge, stopping to get a better look. The light is gone from where I last saw it, but appears again a short distance away, glowing for only a moment before disappearing once again. To my surprise I notice many others, and they begin to fill the shadows like many moving stars.

“They’re fireflies,” Dorian whispers. His voice joins the chorus of the night.

I glance toward him as he grabs hold of the ropes at the edge of the platform. His face is barely visible in the darkness, and the building’s light silhouettes him from behind.

I nod, looking back out into the treetops. There is so much I have not experienced. I sigh, frustrated at feeling left out of this other world. I will have to continue one day at a time, one moment after the other, learning what I can. The fireflies have found their light in a world of darkness and confusion. I can find my own.