Soren and Samantha, cont.
“You do” Samantha said agitatedly. “You know how dangerous it can be out here.”
Bachu flitted nervously through the air. Having no mouth and only a proboscis he found it impossible to speak the humans’ tongue and instead used his own curious dancing language.
Soren shrugged. “I know it is impossible to swim when the tides are in but the tides will not come in for another hour at least. I should be fine until then.”
“Still you should have gotten someone to go with you.” Samantha said.
“You do not have to worry. I taught you about the tides, remember?”
Samantha smiled. “Everyone makes mistakes and I would rather be here when you make yours. I cannot let you drowned out here. I do not know what I would do without you.”
Soren did not know how to answer this statement. He was saved the trouble by Bachu’s shuffling dance.
“I am looking for wood, if you must know,” he replied. “I thought I saw some drifting in.”
“Are you still trying to build that boat? You know after so many years most people would have given up.”
“I do not give up easily. Besides, I am almost done.”
“So you still plan on going back?”
“Of course I do. We have to get back. Who knows what could have happened while we were gone.”
“It is a dying island surrounded by darkness. Why would you want to go back to that?”
“It is my home. My family is there and they are depending on me.”
“They probably think you are dead.”
“That does not mean I should not help them. Would not you do the same for your family?”
Samantha shaded her eyes. “Is that the wood you were looking for?” she pointed further up the beach.
Soren followed her pointing finger. “That would be it,” he said. Bachu hovered around Soren’s head performing his question as clearly as he could.
“I do not know where it came from,” Soren replied. “But it is here now and that is all that matters.”
Soren lifted the wet log across his shoulders and Bachu settled down on it, kicking his legs like a child.
Samantha turned to Soren “How many more pieces of wood do you need?”
“I think this will be the last one.”
Samantha stopped in surprise. Soren turned slowly, so as not disturb Bachu, and looked at her. “Is something the matter?”
“No, I just did not think you would ever finish your boat.”
Soren said nothing but began the long trek up the cliff. Samantha followed behind him. “So, Soren has almost finished his boat,” she thought to herself. “What will I do? I ca not go with him and I cannot stay here alone.” Telling him the truth was out of the question. Samantha tried to quell the feelings of panic that welled up in her chest. “It will be all right,” she told herself. “The boat will probably sink anyway.” She hoped she was right.
Samantha kept telling herself this as she watched Soren finish the boat. Several of the natives flitted about excitedly. Soren had been working on this project for a long time and often he was unable to build because wood was almost nonexistent on the island and driftwood only came so often. Every once in a while Soren would call to Bachu or one of the others to hand him a tool. It was not long before the craft was finished.
Samantha watched with a sinking heart as Soren pushed his creation into the water. “Sink,” she whispered. “Please sink”
The boat did not sink. Soren’s work floated just as well as any other boat. He waved to her as he hoisted up a sail on the tiny mast. She feebly waved back. All around her the little creatures danced for joy. Samantha alone was unhappy. Soren returned to the beach where they swarmed him and danced their congratulations. Samantha left then. She needed to be alone.
Soren watched her leave. He knew something was wrong and had been wrong for the last several years. Every time he mentioned leaving or his home or the storm that brought them he had felt it. Samantha had been careful to hide it, but she could not hide from him. Something told him that Samantha was not coming with him.
From her high position on Zahu hill Samantha looked out on the ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks below her. Beyond the sea the sun was setting in a brilliant display of pink and yellow that faded into the deep blues and purples of night. Behind her came the sounds of festivities from the village.
Soren could not concentrate on the goodbye feast before him. His mind was forever returning to the figure in gray that sat alone on the hill. Finally, just after the sun had set, he took a bowl of food and a lantern and slipped away quietly. He did not leave completely unnoticed for Bachu and another of the small creatures, a young female named Iray, followed him. They caught up with him just outside the city and stopped him.
“I am going to talk to Samantha,” he said in answer to their question. Iray looked around and danced in confusion.
“She is sitting on the hill,” he replied and gestured with the lantern. Both creatures turned to look. Bachu responded first, turning to Soren with his question.
“I do not know. That is what I was going to find out.”
Both the little creatures danced excitedly in unison.
“No you cannot come with me.”
Iray twirled defiantly.
“I want to go alone. This may be my last time to talk with her.”
It was Bachu’s turn to be confused. He moved through his question as quickly as he could.
“No, I do not believe she is going with me.”
This was more confusing to the two. They both questioned Soren at once.
“I do not know why… Yes I am still planning on leaving… No, I am not mad at her… Yes we are still friends... No you cannot come with me; you have already asked me that. Now will you let me go?”
The two shook their heads “Yes”.
“Thank you” Soren said as they turned to go back to the party. He was again alone and he started up the hill.
Samantha did not turn as Soren approached, nor did she speak. Soren handed her the bowl of food. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Samantha took the food but did not eat. Soren sat down next to her, placing the lantern between them. “What are you doing up here?” he asked
Samantha shrugged. “I do not feel much like celebrating tonight.”
“Why?”
“I…” Samantha’s voice trailed off under Soren’s questioning look. She looked down and said nothing.
“You are not coming with me, are you?” Soren said quietly.
Samantha began to cry. “Why do you have to go?” she asked bitterly “You know you do not have enough power to defeat Yoseph and… and the darkness on your own.”
“I may not be a mage like you, Samantha. But I am a storyteller and I do have some magic. Since my uncle died I am the only one in my country to posses any powers at all. Perhaps I can awaken the Zaira Tree and free my people from Yoseph and Airensol.” Soren touched his own eyes sadly. “It took me three years to see again after the darkness. Who knows how long they will take. I have to try to save them.”
“But I may never see you again.”
“You will if you come with me, Samantha,” Soren said gently. “Please, come with me.”
“No,” Samantha burst out. “I cannot go.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is all my fault! I did it!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I brought the darkness!”
“What do you mean?”
“I killed it!”
“Killed what? The Zaira Tree? You killed the Zaira Tree?”
Samantha nodded. “I had read about the Zaira Tree in a book when I was still learning at the Mage School. The book said that if you ate the nut it would in turn give you peace and allow you to restart your life. I was so tired of all the worries and responsibilities of being a mage that I thought life would be better if I started over. Yoseph was my teacher then and he encouraged me to find the tree and even went so far as to go with me. Yoseph and I did not like each other very much but once we started the journey Yoseph was kind and protective and chivalrous. Samlee is a frontier island, the perfect place to restart. I went out while Yoseph waited for me. I found the tree and climbed up to pick the nut. I was so happy to be rid of my problems that I ate the nut right then and there.”
“Did anything happen?”
“No, nothing happened. I waited to change. I waited to forget my problems. I waited to start over, but nothing changed. Then I heard a sound behind me. A man was running towards me waving his arms franticly. I jumped down and ran as fast as I could, calling for help. Yoseph appeared suddenly and killed the man. Then he grabbed my arm and turned me around so that I could see the tree. ‘Look Samantha,’ he called out and held me so that I had to look ‘see what you have done.’ I watched as the tree split in two and died before my eyes and out of the split came pouring darkness. ‘You have just released Airensol’ he said gleefully ‘the consuming blackness, the most powerful magic in history’ He started laughing. I have never heard such a horrible laugh in all my life. I managed to break free but by that time the darkness was ahead of me and I was lost. I wandered around for a long time before I met you. I do not know why the darkness had no affect on me. I was in it just as long as you were and we were both the same age.”
“I know why Samantha.” Soren said calmly. Samantha looked at him in surprise. She had not expected that answer at all. She had expected him to be furious at her. Instead he was calm and collected. She had not expected him to have any answers to the questions that troubled her, yet here he offered a possible answer.
“Why?” she asked nervously.
“The nut of the Zaira Tree does not give the consumer peace and a new start but grants them health and protection. In exchange he or she must stay close to the tree and tend to it until a new nut grows. When the new nut grows, which takes several years, a new consumer is chosen from the young mages in the country to become the new caretaker. This way there is always an attendant to keep the tree alive.”
“Why must it be a mage?”
“Only a young mage can enter the protective circle made by the tree. By eating the nut you have the tree’s youth and protection, but by leaving it you have separated the tree’s power and it can no longer support Airensol’s prison. Yoseph must have known the tree’s true power and that’s why he encouraged you. Samantha, we can make this right. Come back with me, if we can get you back to the tree we can reawaken it.”
“I do not know if I can. What if we fail to awaken the tree?”
“Then we will died trying,” Soren said with a smile. Samantha smiled back weakly. His courage was comforting even if his words were not.
The sun had barely risen when Soren made ready to leave. He put his provisions into the boat slowly. The Natives had supplied him with enough food and water to last him a several weeks. They had also given him a deep burgundy cloak woven all of one piece. Although it was light and supple it was as strong as armor, a great gift. He straightened up and smiled at the crowd that was gathered to say goodbye. They did not move for none knew the right steps to express their goodbye. Soren, too, was silent for words would not come past the lump in his throat. He turned to Samantha. She looked as though she was about to cry but she too placed her bags into the boat. Her new cloak was of a silvery gray and it was every bit as beautiful as she was.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, her voice slightly hoarse, “The boat needs a name.”
“Yes,” Soren agreed “But what?”
Bachu ran forward. Excitedly he explained his idea in quick energetic movements.
Samantha looked at Soren who smiled. “All right, the boat shall be called ‘The Storm Chaser’” and as he spoke the words they appeared on the side of the boat in beautiful curling writing, for such is the power of a storyteller.
Soren handed Samantha the sail rope and she climbed in. Together they turned to the crowd. The crowd erupted into a wild, acrobatic dance in which no one was in time with anyone. It was their final farewell. “Goodbye!” they called and Soren shoved the boat out into the ocean.
This proved too much for Bachu and Iray. They flew after the boat and landed on the mast. They would not budge and somehow neither Soren nor Samantha had the heart to turn them away.
It was a long journey to Samlee. On the fifth day out they encountered the blackness. It was a murky fog as black as a jet stone and as consuming as the plague. Little wind blew in this eerie unnatural night. “I do not remember the island being so close,” Samantha remarked as a chilling stillness settled over them.
“It is several days away yet,” Soren replied, “the darkness must have spread.” He took a book of matches from his pocket and, after a few tries he lit one. As he held the match up it grew into a tall oaken staff with a leaping flame at the top.
“Were did you get that?” Samantha asked
“My uncle made them just before he died. He was a fairly good mage, especially with fire and light. He gave them to me as a birthday present. I never thought they would be so useful.”
“How long will that last?”
“Until the flame goes out.”
“Soren,” Samantha said after a moment “how did your uncle die?”
Soren looked out at the darkness. “He was at war” he said quietly. “The company he was with was trapped and the only way for them to escape was for the company’s mage, my uncle, to create a diversion. My uncle volunteered right away. He saved everyone in that company but he sacrificed himself in doing so.”
Soren turned over the book of matches in his hand. On the back was an inscription “Happy birthday Soren! May you always know what is right to do. Love, Uncle Eamon”. He had read it many times before. They had been his uncle’s last gift and had arrived on the same day the news of his death. The memory of that day was a deep sensation of loneliness mixed with a few pictures. He recalled coming home to find his mother crying on his father’s shoulder. He remembered starring into his uncle’s empty room and knowing that he would never come back. He remembered the emptiness of the house and his own loneliness.
He had not read the letter until the next day. It was a long letter, the last his uncle had ever written. It had spoken of honor and courage and the pride he had felt to serve his country. The matchbook had been concealed in the envelope. The day Soren received his uncle’s gift was the day he decided to follow in his footsteps. That was three months before the darkness came.
The days and nights passed without number for there was no way to tell one from the other. Bachu and Iray were unused to continuous darkness and soon became sluggish and sleepy. Soren and Samantha spoke little. Soren lit his fourth staff. Four staffs since they had entered the darkness, it was the only measure of time they had.
Samantha watched as the flame sputtered to life. “Soren?” the word was hardly more than a whisper but it sounded like a shout.
Soren jumped a little, “yes?”
“How many staffs do you have left?”
“We have five, why do you ask?”
“If we turned around now could we could still make it out with one staff?”
“No we could not. What wind there is, blows inward, the current runs that way too. If we
turned around now it would take us twice as long to go back because we would be against the wind.”
“Oh”
“Why do you ask?”
“It is not important”
Soren leaned over and grabbed Samantha’s hand. “There is nothing for you to be afraid of. We can do this. Have a little faith, Samantha.”
“I am not like you, Soren. I cannot believe it will be fine. I cannot have faith in nothing.”
“Then have faith in yourself. You have more power than you know.”
Samantha sighed and absently picked up an empty jug. She fingered it for a moment then set it down. She had no answer for that.
Samantha looked at the blackness all around her as Soren carefully tried to find the shore with his light. It was six staffs since they had entered the darkness and they had run into a sandbar. Soren had recognized what little of the area he could see; now all they needed was to find the shore.
Samantha sobbed a little at the thought of going back. “Soren, are you sure you know where we are?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes, I am. Try to relax Samantha, you can beat this fear.”
“I have been running away from my fears all my life,” she said quietly, “and now I am giving up everything I have to look them in the eye. I do not think I can face them, Soren.”
Soren’s face was illuminated by the flame of his staff. “Perhaps the reason you ran was not because you are afraid of the darkness, but of yourself.”
“That is easy for you to say, you are not afraid. I am terrified, Soren. I do not have enough courage to keep going.”
“I am scared too.”
“No, you are not. If you were scared you would have turned the boat around.”
“Believe me, I want to.”
“Then why have you not done so?”
“Because being courageous has nothing to do with not being afraid. It is easy to do something if you are not afraid. Courage is when you keep going even though you want to run.” Soren said slowly. The words echoed back across the years. Why go to war, are you not afraid?
Samantha did not answer. Instead she gazed into the silent world of blackness surrounding her. A memory arose through the mist like a ghost. The darkness in her memory was only a gloomy twilight compared to the blackness surrounding her. Through it she saw herself as she was years and years ago; a scrawny, freckled face girl of about fifteen with wide, staring eyes. The wind blew her hair wildly and rain was beginning to fall. She was pushing a boat into the water and calling to the boy who was feeling his way down to the shore. “Hurry up Nori or whatever you call yourself. You have to show me how to use this thing.”
The boy was about her age with thick, black hair and pure black eyes. “My name is Soren.” he called hoarsely. “And how exactly can I show you how to use something if I cannot see to do it myself?”
“Tell me what to do and I will do it. We have to leave here somehow.”
The boy turned his sightless eyes back towards the village. “What about my family?”
“We will have to leave them. There is nothing we can do for them anyway. Maybe if we get out of this darkness you will be able to see again. Then maybe we could come back.” Samantha had not had any intention of ever coming back, but she had no idea how to sail and she needed Soren to help her.
The lie was enough to get Soren in the boat. Samantha pushed the boat out into the ocean and climbed clumsily in after him. The wind blew strongly and it was raining harder than ever. Soren sat, staring straight ahead of him and fidgeting nervously. “Is the sail up?” he said over the roaring wind.
Samantha glanced up at the large white cloth hanging from the mast. “Yes, it is.”
“Take it down. It will too be dangerous in this wind.”
“How do I do that?”
“Start by unhook the sail from the hook at the top.”
“You mean I have to climb up there?”
Soren was getting visibly scared. “Unhook the sail or the wind will throw us into the sea!”
Samantha managed to climb the mast and unhook the sail at the top. As soon as she did the sail ripped out of her grasp and the hooks on the bottom could no longer hold it. It disappeared over the churning waters. “Oh no!” she moaned
“What is wrong?”
“I lost the sail. What do I do?”
“I do not know. I guess we will have to wait out the storm.”
So they waited, each one clinging to the mast as the waves tossed the small boat about like a cork until, with a mighty crack, the boat split in hundreds of pieces leaving them only the mast. The hung doggedly on for what seemed an eternity, the sea driving them before its vengeful waves. Finally, just when they thought they were going to die there in the ocean, their feet touched bottom and they dragged themselves up onto shore.
Soren had jumped into the water and, by the flickering light of the staff he pulled the boat ashore. Samantha awoke from her memories and gathered together the remaining provisions. Bachu and Iray rummaged through the weaponry that had been provided for the two humans coming up with two short metal spears made much too small for anyone but them. Soren and Samantha armed themselves with swords that were about half the length the humans needed.
“How do we find the tree?” Samantha whispered. It was the sort of place where one whispers.
“There is a river that leads most of the way from the sea to the Zaira tree. If we can find that we can follow it.”
“How do we find the river?”
“I suppose we will just have to walk along the shore until we see it.”
The river was little more than a trickle of water in an otherwise dry ravine. They walked along the ravine without hindrance for there were no plants to hinder them. The only things that grew were pale mushrooms that glowed faintly in the reflection of the staffs light. Occasionally there appeared in the distance the faint light of a fire. These were few and far between however, and they gave little comfort to the travelers. Once in a while they would see people gathering these mushrooms. Their skin was almost without pigment and their eyes and hair were as black as the fog. Once Soren had attempted to speak with an elderly gentleman but all he did was shake his head.
Soren handed his staff to Samantha. “Wait here,” he whispered “there is something I have to do.”
“What?”
“Do not worry, I will be back soon.”
Samantha took the staff and watched as he headed for one of the distant fires. “Oh, Soren,” she whispered. “I hope you know what you are doing.”
Soren paused before entering the firelight. He knew the place well, though it had changed. The buildings and the streets looked older then they had before. The yards looked lonely without the grass and the delicate flower beds that once grew there. In the center of the village, where a pear tree had once stood, was the fire he had seen. The people, too, were missing. When he had live there it had been alive with children playing, men working and women gossiping. Now only one or two figures could be seen in the faint light.
Soren skirted the circle of firelight. He doubted anyone could see him even if he had walked straight out and danced a jig, but stepping into the light seemed so forward, so open. He preferred the shadows. He knew the house he was looking for, a small, one-story home near the edge of the village. The paint was pealing and the windows were cracked but otherwise it looked much the same as he had remembered it. Carefully he opened the door, his lips formed the familiar greeting “peace to you.”
A woman was sitting at the table, a cup of murky water in her hands. Her head turned to him as he entered. “Who is there?” she said quietly.
She had aged since he had last seen her. She was old now, frail. Her hair was the same black as the others. Her eyes, which were once blue, were black and outlined in wrinkles. Her hands, which had always been work hardened, were wrinkled and boney. She was thin too, much thinner that he had remembered, almost emaciated. He held out his hands to her though she could not see him. “It is me, Mother. It is Soren. I have come home.”
She started, dropping the cup from her hands. Slowly she stood up. “Soren? Is it really you? You are not an illusion, are you? I have heard so many things in the night.”
She stumbled blindly towards him, her arms outstretched. He caught her in his arms as she tripped over some shadowy object. “It is really me. I am here… I am home.”
For a moment they embraced. He held her tight as if he never wanted to let go. She rested her head on his shoulder and let her tears fall. “You do not know how many nights I have prayed for this moment” she said quietly.
Soren nodded. “I have prayed, too.”
For a moment more they held each other. Then Soren released his hold. Soren’s mother looked sightlessly into his face. “You are a man now. You are so tall and strong, I feel like I do not know you. I wish I could see your face.”
Soren didn’t answer but pressed her hand to his cheek. It was enough for him just to feel her, to know she was real. A tear or two slipped down her cheek. He smiled and wiping the tears away, gently kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mother.”
“I love you too.” She laughed a little through her tears but the laughter soon lapsed into a deep cough.
“Are you well?” Soren asked anxiously.
“I am old, Soren, and this darkness has made me older. I do not have enough food and there is no way to get more. The water is bad but it is all the water there is. I am just glad I got to see you once more.”
“It will get better, now. I have some friends waiting for me outside. We came to wake the Zaira Tree.”
“So many people have tried to awaken the tree, so many have died. Your father tried but he could not do it.”
The words of Soren’s question stuck in his throat. It was a question he had to ask but was afraid to. He swallowed and asked in a low voice “Where is Father?”
Soren’s mother shook her head. “Gone,” she said simply “He never made it back.”
Soren sank back into a chair. He closed his eyes and conjured up the image of his father. His large hands that were always busy making something, his deep brown eyes that always seemed to be smiling, his hearty laugher as he talked about his day at the carpenters shop. They were all gone now, vanished into the darkness.
Soren’s mother sat down next to him and put her arm around him. He cried then, softly, silently. He sat ridged and motionless while the tears rolled slowly, one by one, down is face. She made no move to stop him; the tears lasted only a moment. Soren as a child had rarely cried. The tears he spilt were more than water, they were pain. But even in tears not all pain could be relieved. There were some pains that are healed only in time.
Soren stood and kissed his mother’s cheek again. “I should go” he said solemnly.
“I wish you and your friends the best of luck. I will pray for you.”
Soren hugged his mother. Then he undid the clasp to his cloak. “Here,” he said as he draped it over her shoulders, “this will keep you warm until the sun shines again.”
“Go now, your friends will be waiting.”
For a long time after Soren left his mother stood at the doorway listening to the diminishing footsteps. She shook her head slowly. “If only you could see your son now.”
It was a hard journey for Soren. To see his homeland dying this way hurt him more than any sword could. As a child he had played by this river. There had been grass and trees and flowers on the banks. He had known the people, they had been his friends. Now he was standing on the outside, a stranger in his home. The darkness had killed the place he knew and replaced it with an empty hole. It had whittled the place of his childhood away until there was almost nothing left. It had killed his father and withered his mother. It was destroying the people he loved, crushing them under its relentless heal. That knowledge held a pain that no tears could relieve. There was no way to alleviate the painful burden that was his alone.
He stopped just before he reached the bank. He must never let Samantha see him like this. She was so scared that if she even suspected his hardships she would not continue. He must be strong for her. He had to give her the courage she needed.
Bachu shuffled nervously from side to side. Samantha shrugged, “I do not know. It does seem like he has been gone a long time but everything seems too take a long time around here.”
Soren materialized out of the darkness and took the torch from her. Samantha glanced nervously at him. “Did you do what you were hoping to?”
Soren smiled. “Yes, I did.”
Samantha smiled too; it helped to see Soren in a good mood. She did not ask about the cloak or what he had done. She would ask later, when it no longer mattered. Perhaps if she had been less nervous or if the light had been better she might have noticed the tear marks on his face. She did not notice though; she would not let herself.
They continued their search along the river bank. Eventually the people disappeared and soon after them the mushrooms ceased to grow. In the darkness before them loomed a large stone wall with thick high gates. First Soren then Samantha tried to climb the wall but to no avail. It was simply too high. Soren frowned and lit another match-staff. “I do not see how we can get in. The gates open out and the walls are too high.”
It was Iray who found the solution. She and Bachu flew over the wall and opened it from the inside. Soren and Samantha were unprepared for the dying forest they saw. The grass grew here but it was brown and dry. The trees had no leaves except sharp dry needles. And all around them there were sharp points of green light. They came in pairs, always in pairs.
The group move forward cautiously and behind them and to the sides came the eyes. As they walked the fog lifted slightly and they could see the movement of the black shadows. Suddenly Soren’s light went out. Franticly he tried to light the last staff. Finally it flared up but Iray had already been pinned by one of the wolves. In seconds she was dead. Soren shouted “A rabbit! A rabbit!”
It was a strange thing to shout but Soren knew what he was doing. He was a Storyteller by trade and he knew how to use his powers. No sooner had he spoken then a rabbit darted past the wolves. Several of them rushed after it. “Run!” Soren pushed Samantha forward. “Run! I will hold them as long as I can.”
There was no time to argue and Soren was stubborn, so Samantha ran with Bachu beside her. Behind her she could hear Soren working his Storyteller’s magic. Before her was the flickering light of a fire. As she neared it she saw a man sitting gloomily before it. Instinctively she knew it was Yoseph.
How she knew this was hard to say for he had changed much in her time away. His back was bent and his hands were wrinkled. His robe was the same robe that he had worn when she left but the years had changed its bright, fresh, grassy color into a dull, grey-green. The silver designs had worn away leaving only vague impressions of the once beautiful patterns. The hood covered his face but even from his posture she could tell that he looked old, tired, and helpless.
Yoseph lifted his head at the sound of her approach. “Samantha?” he said oddly. His voice still had strength but is sounded incredibly sad, as if he was baring a great weight. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you had run away”
“I have come to set things right.” Samantha replied. She tried to make her voice sound strong and confident but it still quavered slightly, betraying her fear.
“How can you set things right?” he ask in a sorrowful voice. “You left when you were most needed.”
“I’ve come back to undo what was done”
Yoseph sighed deeply, “You and I both know it cannot be undone. Nothing can change the past.”
“I can revive the tree. I can set things right.”
“Nothing can set things right, Samantha. Airensol is loose now, nothing can stop him. You were the only one who could have, but you ran away. There is nothing you can do now. It is too late. You abandoned the island. You abandoned me.”
“I did not abandon you. You caused this. You wanted to release Airensol. This is your fault.”
“You were the one who wanted to get to the tree, Samantha. You stole the nut and ate the nut and then you left us. You are the one who destroyed the island, Samantha.”
“But you forced me…” Samantha looked at the bend, tired man in front of her. Suddenly she began to doubt herself. She knew he had not forced her to eat the nut. She had done that on her own; he had not been with her, she had been alone. When things began to change, to die, she thought only of escape. She had run away, abandoned the island, just as Yoseph said. “It was my fault” she said sadly. “I ruined everything.”
“Why did you come back Samantha? They are only going to kill you”
“Kill me? Why would they do that?”
“Look around you, Samantha. Look at the damage, the trees are dead, the animals are mad, the people are starving. This was their home and they loved it and they hate the person who destroyed it.”
“Maybe,” Samantha said nervously “Maybe if I can reawaken the tree…”
“I have been studying the Zaria Tree and its legends ever since you left,” Yoseph said quietly. “There is no way to reawaken it.”
“But Soren…” She paused for a moment, confused. “I can do it” she said at last.
“It took all of the magic of the faye folk to create this tree, how can one child who had not master even the basic magic hope to resurrect it? There is no way you could, Samantha, you are not strong enough.”
Samantha’s wide eyes stared fearfully at the darkness. “What do I do?”
“Leave before they kill you.” Yoseph answered.
“But I could not leave Soren.”
“You have already left him.” Yoseph pointed out.
“But…” Samantha paused and looked away. “But I love him” she whispered.
“Yet you let him fight the wolves while you ran away? That is not love. You abandoned him just like you abandoned the island.”
“What could I have done?”
“Stay with him, fight with him. You could have stuck by his side, through thick and thin but you ran away.”
Bachu had heard enough. He ceased his spear with both of his hands and threw it with all of his strength. He was going for the heart but his aim was bad and the spear grazed Yoseph’s left arm.
Yoseph screamed and grabbed his arm. The wound was not deep but it was painful.
Samantha turned on her tiny companion. “Why have you done that, Bachu? He was trying to help us.”
Bachu fluttered up so that he was looking at Samantha eye to eye. His face was not built to be communicative but even with his limited facial expressions Samantha could see that he was angry. He looked as if he would have liked to shake her. He stomped out his answer to Samantha without ever breaking eye contact. It was a sign of extreme displeasure, the equivalent of talking through clenched teeth.
Samantha opened her mouth for a moment then closed it. “What do you mean he’s manipulating me?” she whispered.
Yoseph began to laugh. Samantha stared at him. There was something familiar about his laugh. She had heard that laugh before. Here, years ago. It was the same laugh that he had made when he held her in front of the dying tree. He had laughed. She remembered that so clearly.
“You poor, simple girl,” Yoseph cackled. “You are so easily influenced. I could make you kill the island again if I wanted to.”
Samantha suddenly became aware of the dark shadowy fog. It had taken the form of ghostly hands and was reaching out to her. She grabbed a branch from the fire and frantically waved the hands away. If Yoseph had held her attention for one more moment it would have enveloped her. Bachu tugged at her sleeve and pointed to the tree that lay in burned halves past the fire. She flung herself at it and gripped the trunk, nothing happened.
Yoseph laughed again as she clung to the tree. The laughter was growing unnatural. It swirled around Samantha in a terrifying echo. It was almost as if the darkness was laughing with him. Samatha closed her eyes and hugged the trunk closer. Tears of fright welled in her eyes as the laughter, far beyond natural levels, escalated into a terrifying shriek. Joining it was the sound of hundreds of wolves all howling at the same time. Their wild cries mingled together in a petrifying chorus.
Yoseph smiled and as he spoke his voice seemed to take on another tone, as though two people were talking at once. “Little fool, you cannot win. We are too powerful for you. There is no escape. The wolves we control are already closing in. You will die, girl!”
Samantha hugged the bark and thought hard. “Why is the tree still dead? What am I doing wrong? What if I cannot awaken the tree? What if Yoseph is right?” Suddenly the words of an old spell crossed her mind. It was a simple spell, a child’s spell but it was all she had. The wolves were closing in on her and so was the darkness. Desperately she said the words.
The tree began to tremble as the darkness reached out for her. The two halves filled with life and rose up above her head. They fused together, trapping the smoggy fingers inside the thickening trunk. The bark became a silvery white and on every branch sprouted shimmering purple leaves. Bright yellow flowers bloomed near the top and the sun shone through the clouds directly on them.
The wolves howled one last time as the light spread. Then they were gone suddenly, disappearing as the sun touched their black fur, as if they were only shadows. Yoseph cried out as his pets disappeared and tried to charge Samantha, but found himself stopped by some invisible force. He stumbled back as if he had hit a wall and fell to the ground. His hood slipped off and for the first time in many years Samantha saw her teacher’s face.
His leathery skin was very pale, almost white except for the dark blue circles around his eyes. His lips were a strange unnatural blackish blue and red and blue vanes ran throughout his face. His hair had changed from blond to black. His eyes too had become black except for his irises which had turned a strange, sickly yellow. The sunlight was spreading and Yoseph was unable to handle it. He gave Samantha a last hateful look full of hatred and loathing. Then he turned and fled.
The spell had taken all of Samantha’s strength out of her. She lay on the grass that had sprouted under the tree and watch the morning slowly spread over the land. She was too exhausted to move, too exhausted to think. Wearily she closed her eyes.
Samantha awoke with a start. Where was she? Why was she there? The memory came slowly. The journey, the fighting the tree… she had done it. Soren would be proud. Suddenly she sat bolt upright. Soren! Where was Soren? Was he still alive? She shook Bachu who was asleep beside her. “Bachu, wake up! Do you know where Soren is?”
Bachu rocked back and forth slowly, his way of saying no. Together they searched the forest. Luckily, the grass had only sprung up under the tree and their trail was still fresh. They found Soren lying on his back, mortally wounded, and staring up at the bright blue sky. He turned his head slightly as they approached. “You did it, Samantha; you brought the Zaira Tree back to life.”
“I could not have done it without you.”
“You did, though”
“No, you made me come. You gave me the courage. You gave me the strength.”
“Perhaps, but the songs will not remember that.”
“I will remember.”
Soren smiled and looked at the sky. “There has not been a sky here for a long, long time.”
“No, I do not suppose there was,” Samantha murmured.
“Samantha?”
“Yes?”
“Have you ever seen a more beautiful sky?”
“I do not know. We should get you to a healer.”
“It is no use. There is no medicine here and no herbs with which to make it. I am going to die.” He said it matter-of-factly as if he was announcing that he was going fishing.
“No, Soren! No, you cannot!” Samantha shouted.
Soren shifted slightly, “why should I not die? All people die sometime.”
“I need you.”
Soren smiled “Samantha? Will you promise me something?”
“What is it?”
“You will not let me get in the way?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do not let my memory stop you from being happy. We are close, just about as close as anyone could be, but my time on this world is ending. I know you will not forget me, but at some point you will have to move on. You will meet new people, make new friends, start a new life, and when that happens there will be no more room for me. When that time comes will you promise you will not hesitate because of me? I want you to fall in love again, so promise you will not let me stop you?”
“I promise, Soren. I promise.”
Soren looked back up at the sky. “I will be going soon,” He said quietly. Samantha buried her head in her cloak. “Samantha?” he said after a moment.
“Yes?”
“Will you look after my mother? She is my only family, I cannot leave her unprotected. Will you please watch out for her?”
“How will I find her?”
“She is wearing the cloak that the bee-folk made me.”
“Yes, Soren, I will.” Tears streamed down Samantha’s face. Soren reached up a hand, partly stained with blood, and gently touched her face.
“Do not worry Samantha, I will be all right. Whatever is on the other side of this world, I will figure it out. When you come I will be looking for you.” He smiled at her and she tried to smile back. His hand fell away and slowly sank to the ground. His breathing gradually lessened until it ceased to exist. The color went out of his face and he became limp and empty. His brown, lifeless eyes stared up at the radiant blue sky.
The Zaira Tree was restored to life and the island of Samlee soon regained its strength. Within five years it was a beautiful, lively island. The people were strong and healthy, although they still retained their black hair and their skin would always be pale. They also began a friendship with the bee-folk on the neighboring islands and the two islands became close allies to this very day.
Years passed into decades and decades into centuries until even the storytellers could not remember the release of Airensol. Occasionally there was born an islander with strawberry-blond hair. This unusual gene also seemed to give its bearers magical abilities and they became some of the best mages and storytellers in the world.
On the island there lives still the legacy of a mage with black and yellow eyes who will overcome the faint of heart and lead them to their destruction. And still there lives a great tree with bark as white as snow and leaves of royal purple. Under the great branches there lies a grave. Time has erased the words that were once written there but they say that he who is buried there was a great hero who lived so long ago that even the oldest songs cannot recall his name.
The End
-Regina Czupinski |
