Oriana's Eyes (18 page)

 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“I’ll begin when I was about your age. Now this was a time before chaos, before Odon and the half-blooded tyrants. Life was relatively simple. Of course there were half-bloods and part-bloods by then, but there was no real danger to consider.

“It was during this time that I fell in love. It didn’t matter to me that he was a part-blood and that my family disapproved. I thought of no one but him. I was still a Winglet, so my parents assumed that our bond was a mere infatuation that would vanish once I gained my wings and took to the sky. He and I would be of two different worlds then; we would have no choice but to separate. But as fate would have it, shortly after I became a Winglarion, I discovered I was pregnant with a part-blood child.” Falda beams as she recalls this part of her life.

“Tor,” I state with a grin, trying to picture him as a newborn babe.

Falda nods. “Yes, I told my parents and older brothers of the child within me, hoping that maybe it would prove to them my love for—” She pauses at the mention of his name, as if it is too painful to say. She draws a breath. “My love for Taurin, Tor’s father.”

She seems relieved once the name is spoken and continues on unwavering. “Of course the knowledge of my baby only fueled my family’s anger, and they disowned me as their daughter. It was hurtful, of course. They would not acknowledge me or even act as though I had ever been their daughter. The hatred for those ‘un-pure’ was strong within everyone during that time. I suppose it never really went away.”

“It will.” I conjure this from little besides hope, and I have no proof that my words might one day be true. I fall silent, feeling foolish for having interrupted.

“I truly hope so, and for some reason I believe it as well,” Falda responds, before going on. “I was able to deal with the separation from my family because I had begun to form one of my own. Despite my urge for the sky, for flight, I remained on the ground caring for Tor and sharing my love with Taurin. Soon any doubts of my rightful place were gone, I knew I had made the best decision, and things were peaceful for a while.

“It was when Tor turned ten that we started to hear of the half-bloods—at first little more than rumors that had traveled through so many ears and mouths that it was not certain they could be trusted. But then talk grew. About a year later we began to see the effects. Taurin and I found safety with our son in the forest, where we came upon the Great Oak.” In her tone I can hear an affection for this great tree as for an old friend.

“The three of us began working on a place of refuge within its branches. Taurin would leave to seek others of the land, part-bloods who had managed to escape Odon’s soldiers, and of course purebloods were welcome as well. Another year went by, and our community had grown. Tor was twelve, and despite my objections, he accompanied his father on trips to find others in need of protection. Sadly, most of those who came back were part-bloods, as I have told you before, and none were much older than Tor.”

“What happened to their parents? Did any of them make it to the Great Oak?”

“Some did, but I’m afraid the generation was lost in other instances. I will explain soon enough,” Falda hastens to add, seeing my grim face. It is disheartening to know that Odon was able to wipe out a whole generation. Could that be why the others are missing their parents?

“One day Tor returned with a group of young ones, but Taurin was not at his side. I immediately panicked, expecting to hear the worst from my son. His explanation was not far from it. Taurin was never the type to fight battles passively. I suppose he believed our efforts were not enough. Odon’s power was increasing, and our secret group of rebels was doing nothing aggressive to stop him. So Taurin remained behind, fighting off what soldiers he could.

“You must understand that those soldiers were our own people who had been taken over by Odon; no one wanted to kill other part-bloods. It was why we reacted as we did for so long. Taurin felt he had to react in some other way. He led a group of fellow part-bloods, some parents, some not much older than you are now. Many were killed, unskilled as fighters and unequipped with suitable weapons. The following generation that remained at the Great Oak, too young to fight, began a tragic story of their own. Malise and Aaron?”

I nod unsteadily, not sure I am ready to hear her tale.

“They were born at the Great Oak, the first of a pure generation. Their parents loved them very much. Perhaps they acted foolishly, as the young often do, but they risked their lives as well, hoping to make the future better for their children. I suppose I don’t have to tell you they lost their lives for it.” Falda’s head drops.

“Then they fought alongside Taurin?”

“No, not beside, but for an equal cause. They were among those lost during Kadin’s attempt, but it was only a few years or so after Taurin’s battle that it occurred.”

I hold back tears. So many had risked their lives, many not far from my own age. I wonder if I will ever have the bravery that they did, knowing the numbers against them were so great. “Is that how Dorian’s parents died? Helping Kadin?”

Falda shakes her head. “Oh no, their story is quite a different tale entirely. One with mysteries even I do not have answers for.”

I realize I am leaning forward in my chair, and I settle back, offering to sum up. “So then they all died … or else were turned into Odon’s slaves?”

Falda does not respond; she does not have to. “Taurin was the only one to return. He was near death when one of the children found him. He had dragged himself as far into the woods as he was able. He did not last the night …” Falda’s voice catches in her throat, and she nearly loses the calm she has maintained since I met her.

“I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. He died in this room, his head upon my lap. He had the most charming features: dark brown hair and eyes like the depths of the rich soil, and so tall. I thought nothing would ever bring him down, but that look in his eyes … it told of defeat, failure to protect his family, to triumph over evil. We were still so young, we never thought that good could not prevail. I only wish he could have died with a sense of hope …”

“But he must have!” I cry out as if the dead might hear my words. “He had Tor, Tor was his hope! The next generation, the Great Oak, you had found the Great Oak!”

“Perhaps you are right; I’d like to think so, but when I close my eyes,” her lids fasten shut, “and I see his face …” She presses her lips together as if concentrating on the image, trying to find something more. She releases the hold with a sigh and shakes her head. “I just don’t know, it is so long ago. Sometimes I can’t forgive myself for staying behind. Sometimes I wish I had died with the rest of them. They were my peers, and now it’s as if I am stuck somewhere between this life and their deaths.”

“You did what you had to. The children needed someone to take care of them.” I move toward her and kneel beside her seat, my hand upon her knee, “You became the key, the connection into the future. Your presence reminds us all of the past, of what never was, but of what is to come.”

She nods as if the words are familiar to her, spoken perhaps by her own voice within her head. “Yes, I believe you are right.” It seems that is not the end of her statement, but she says nothing more.

There is a moment of silence in which we retreat to our own thoughts and the invisible link between us is broken. I withdraw to my chair across from her, staring at my hands fumbling with the folds of my dress.

Finally Falda begins again. “Either way, my time here is soon to close.”

I glance up at her. It is true she is advanced in years, but the tone of her voice seems much more certain, more an affirmation than something considered. “What do you mean? You have more years yet.”

Falda attempts a frail smile. “I’m afraid it is not to be. The sky calls to me; it is a voice I have heard for many years. I do not have the strength to resist it much longer.”

I am still confused and remain quiet, unsure of what she is describing, yet certain it will be painful to accept.

“If you had been raised among Winglarions, my words would not sound so foreign. There comes a time for all Winglarions when we must leave our homes to travel the distance into the world beyond. I have held off too long, perhaps in the belief that my presence was needed for a bit longer. You have proved that idea to be true, but now that my work is completed, I must depart soon, before my wings lose there abilities completely.”

“But what about Tor? He needs you … you can’t just leave.”

“Tor already knows of my plans. He understands I was never meant for the ground. As you will learn when you hear the call.”

The idea still hurts, and for a moment I lose my compassion and speak in selfishness. “But you can’t. That would be like giving up! Don’t you want to see us succeed?”

“I will be watching you always, from the stars—much better view than in this old shack.” She smiles. “I must fly to
him
, I must meet Taurin in the sky. I know he is waiting for me there. I gave up the sky to be with him, and now I must seek it to finally reach him in the end.”

I hang my head in sadness in guilt at having placed Falda’s wishes behind my own.

She raises her hands, indicating the air above. “It is where we all must eventually go; we lose our blood, our hair and eyes. We all eventually meet in the same place, no matter what or who we are by birth.”

I think about this for a moment, the idea brightening my spirits. If we are all destined to the same place in the end, then maybe one day my family will be together again. Maybe once we have been stripped of our physical forms, then there will be no fighting, no more judgments and pain. Children can be with their parents and love whomever they choose. “When will you leave? I wish to say good-bye to you,” I whisper, finally accepting her decision.

“I will not go when you are away. I will wait for you to return,” Falda states, a relief in her voice. Perhaps she was nervous I might not forgive her for leaving.

“Thank you.” I bow my head before getting to my feet. It is near dinner, and I sense that our conversation is at a close. “For all your guidance.”

She nods, her eyes drooping, and I see she is holding back a yawn. “My wishes go with you on your journey tomorrow.”

At dinner I sit beside Dorian, deep in thought. I sense the tension of the others around me. All are aware of our journey tomorrow. Even Azura is far quieter than usual, and the page of notes lies beside her plate of food, allowing her to glance at it between bites. Yet my own thoughts are on past events, not the future. I think of all the broken families, the ruined childhoods. Everyone seems to have their own story of sadness and loss. Falda’s final statements repeat the most inside my mind. Her fateful flight, and her quest into the stars to join her kin. Are there really no distinctions up there? Is it possible that everyone can live in harmony? If there is a chance for us up there, then there may be one here as well. That night I watch the fireflies float above Dorian, and I am not certain of anything.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The next morning begins early. Azura is through my door before Dorian and I have a chance to compose ourselves. We sit up immediately, still dazed from sleep but clearly having shared a bed as well as each other’s arms. Azura halts in the doorway, and a heavy sack in either hand drops to the floor.

My face growing hot, I leap away from Dorian and out of the bed. Smoothing my hair, I try to appear nonchalant about the whole incident. It would do no good to explain that Dorian and I were chaste companions the entire night. When I glance at him still beneath the blankets, he tries to hide a roguish grin by rubbing his hand against his unshaven chin—a gesture he repeats whenever he is nervous.

“What’s going …?” Liam walks through the flap door. He need only glance from my red face to Dorian in my bed to draw a conclusion. He can’t help a smile before striding back out again, only too willing to let Azura handle the situation.

“Oriana …” she finally begins, regaining her voice, “once you are”—she searches for the right word—“decent, then we’ll be meeting at the dining hall. I’ve asked the cook to prepare an early meal for us.” She snatches up one of the packs in confusion, as if unable to recall dropping it. “The other bag is yours; don’t forget it.” With that she dashes out after Liam. I have to give her credit for not losing her temper.

Dorian chuckles. “Well that was awkward.” He gets to his feet and slips into his sandals and stretches his arms overhead. “Good, I could use some breakfast.”

Even though I am shaking my head in disapproval, I can’t melt the smile from my lips.

A few moments later, I have gathered my cape and satchel and am heading to the dining hall with Dorian at my side. I’m hoping it will be enough time for Azura to have forgotten her earlier interruption. When I see her standing at the doorway, hands posed on her hips and her foot tapping impatiently, I think otherwise. I hope it has not ruined our growing friendship. After all, it was only days ago that we were at odds with one another.

“Sorry … I didn’t mean to make you wait.” I speak first, hoping to be the one to diffuse the tension.

Azura’s green eyes are piercing. “It’s not you I’m waiting for.” Her response brings instant relief. “It’s that lazy Finn and those two slugs he has for friends.”

I laugh to myself, heading past her into the dining hall where a basket of freshly baked breads awaits. Mixed fruits and nuts, along with boiled eggs, are also laid out for us.

“Dorian! You don’t expect to eat, do you? You’re not even going anywhere!” Dorian and I turn to find Azura peering in through the doorway at us.

“C’mon, there’s plenty here!” He helps himself to a bit of everything, ignoring whatever else Azura has to say. Eventually she gives an exasperated sigh and lets the flap fall shut with a smack. A few minutes later, we hear her again in a series of reprimands, announcing the arrival of Dugan, Finley, and Jagger.

Dorian and I have taken seats on one of the benches halfway down the table. “I’m so glad I’m not them right now,” he mutters. He then pops a whole egg into his mouth.

Finley emerges from the door first, looking even messier than usual. Jagger follows, making no attempt to conceal an expansive yawn. Behind him is Dugan, his sleek black hair neatly pulled back as usual, not a strand out of place. Somehow he manages to ignore Azura, close behind him and still scolding.

“Do you realize how late you three are? I can’t believe you can sleep at a time like this! I don’t know why I even bother letting you come! I’d better see your plates cleaned in under five seconds!” Azura is clearly stressed and makes no efforts to hide it.

The three seem not the least bit fazed about the situation, but I can’t help feeling sorry for them. It is surprising that they have kept silent for so long. Finley gives me a grin as he sits across from Dorian and me with a plate full of food. Azura’s ranting has finally come to an end; she either ran out of things to say or lost her voice.

I return Finn’s smile, but it is also a reaction to my recent thought. Thankfully Azura cannot read minds.

Of their own accord, they finish their meals in moments, picking at any leftover crumbs. Together we deposit the empty dishes at the corner of the room where a tray has been left out. Luckily, Azura finds nothing to disapprove of. As we are gathering our things, Liam walks in through the opposite entrance.

“It’s best we leave now,” he announces simply. We comply without a word, following him out the door and along the lower platform. As the others begin their climb down the main ladder, I hang back.

“Dorian …” I cannot think what to say. I want to make so many promises, but I can’t help hesitating.

“Just—please be careful,” he says.

This I can promise, and I nod assuredly, letting him pull me into a close embrace.

As I latch onto the ladder and start down, I take one more look at him, wondering if it is as hard for him as it is for me. Dorian smiles weakly, and I can tell that it is. I look back at the ladder, focusing on the rungs beneath and in front of me. I am trying to concentrate on each step instead of the great task that is still far ahead.

We set out through the forest, away from the shade of the Great Oak and away from the rising sun. As we descend the hill, familiar from when I first arrived, we lose sight of the Great Oak. Apprehension rises within me, surely within us all. It is probably what causes the others to be silent. Yet as our steps continue and the distance from home increases, I begin to relax. Accepting the decision that has brought me this far and visualizing the desperate innocents awaiting our help.

It is a clear morning, save for the occasional cluster of whipped clouds, the last remnants of yesterday’s fog. The wind propels them across the sky, now and again pushing them in front of the bright sun and providing a moment of cool shade. I take a breath as the same wind whips through my hair, picking it up from my shoulders and sweeping it from my face before taking a turn and lashing it forward. The wind finally surges past me, settling my hair neatly upon my back.

I find myself walking beside Azura. She has taken a pace behind the others. Liam walks ahead, Finley, Dugan, and Jagger in step behind him. Azura surveys them with an approving eye. Her nerves have certainly eased now that we are well on our way. I watch her eyes focus on Liam and linger. I chance a question from my recent curiosities.

“I do not know him well, yet he seems so quiet …”

She turns, startled, realizing I have noticed her gaze upon Liam. “Of late? Yes, he has not spoken much to me either. The thought of more deaths is more painful to him than most. It brings bad memories of the past, when he was only a few years old.” Her voice is low, and it is clear that she too is haunted by his memories.

A bird shrieks as it flies overhead, and we are unsettled for a moment. I look back at Azura, who meets my gaze. “What happened to him?” I ask.

“During the time of chaos, many part-bloods were killed. There had come to be so many, and Odon didn’t see value in them. He kept some alive, mainly the young ones to bend to his will. But as in the other bloodlines, he killed many adults. Liam’s parents had heard of the sanctuary at the Great Oak and of Falda, the Winglarion who could show them the way. From what I’ve heard, they had already prepared to slip away to the location where Falda’s son, Tor, would lead them to safety.”

Azura lowers her head, burdened by the knowledge; she concentrates on the ground passing beneath her. “They came across a group of Odon’s guards searching for stragglers and hid in the nearby foliage. You see, Liam was so young then, only just able to use his legs, he had no idea what the situation was. He …” Her gaze finds Liam among the others, his gait forced, his feet barely lifting with each step. Her eyes soften for a moment, and I can see she yearns to relieve his pain.

“He cried out unexpectedly, giving away their location. His father diverted attention while his mother ran for the woods where she knew Tor was waiting. Liam’s father did not make it far before he was downed by an arrow. His mother soon realized she and her son would not make it together. So, she urged Liam to walk forward into safety, shielding him so that he might escape. I suppose I don’t have to explain that neither of his parents survived.”

I feel the searing pain of compassion for the boy, now a young man still dealing with the losses and guilt of his past. “So they saved him … he never went to the University?”

Azura presses her lips together ruefully. “I wish that were true. Unfortunately Liam’s small legs did not carry him far. Perhaps the weight of guilt slowed him down the moment his voice escaped him. For whatever reason, Liam was captured and did live out many years at the University until he escaped just as I did. I think that only made the whole thing worse for him. He not only blames himself for their death, but also that their lives were taken in vain. They had sacrificed, and he failed them.”

“But it wasn’t his fault! He was too young to know! His parents would not want him to live the rest of his life in grief for a mistake made in infancy.”

She raises a hand as if in defense, although I did not mean to attack. “Believe me, I know the truth of it, but he will not see. No matter what I say to him, he will never release the burden. See …”—her eyes flicker toward him—“even now he carries it like a sack of stones.” I watch Liam move slowly forward, fighting each step as I had seen before.

I nod gravely. “It is so sad. Odon has caused so many deaths, but what is far worse is the wreck he’s made of the living.”

“Yes.” Azura sighs. “I don’t know how, but Liam’s managed to live on. I thought his lack of will might ultimately lead to his death, despite how I’ve tried to change him. Still, something keeps him in this life.”

I glance at her, wondering if she truly cannot answer her own question. To me it seems clear that it is Azura herself who keeps him alive. Yet the expression of puzzlement upon her face tells me she still has not figured that out.

Our path leads us to a clearing. Liam heads toward its edge, choosing to use the bordering trees as cover from the open sky.

“Stay close,” he calls back to Azura, and we comply willingly, now that our discussion has ended.

“Look! Up there!” It is Jagger who motions toward a patch of clouds, stepping back into the shade of the nearby trees and waving the rest of us after him.

At first I don’t see anything, merely the burning reflection of the morning sun off the starkness of the cloud. Then as the wind sweeps it aside, I see them. They emerge from the white canvas onto the rich blue of the painted sky. Their billowing white robes and feathered wings blended perfectly into the cloud, rendering them practically invisible. Now they are in clear sight. I count ten Winglarions, specks in the sky but still discernible. They shift the angles of their wings nimbly, using the currents to lift them into greater heights. I gasp as in one motion, together as if one creature they angle into a dive against the wind. The magnificent dive propels them out of sight, behind the treetops that block our view.

“Odon’s winged soldiers,” Finley comments with distaste. “We should be extra careful; their level of activity concerns me. He could be at odds with an enemy half-blood.”

The rest of our trip we remain within the shelter of the forest, avoiding open fields and staying low whenever we crest a hill. By midday we reach the final hilltop, the spot where Dorian and Liam brought Azura and me after escaping the cave. I take a seat beneath the familiar shade of the fruit tree, imagining Dorian beside me offering one of the red orbs. Looking up into its branches, so lean compared to the girth of the Great Oak’s, I notice that there are no more green fruit. The ones that remain have reached their full ripeness, but many more lie rotting on the ground beneath.

There will not be much time to rest before Azura and I enter the caves. But we take some time to open our packs and replenish ourselves with food and drink. I gingerly chew at a slice of bread, spread thickly with a sour berry jam.

Azura sits in silence beside Liam on a mossy patch of ground. Both chew on their lunches, deep in thought. Not far are Finley, Jagger, and Dugan who converse in low tones. Judging by their gestures and occasional glances upward, they are discussing the reappearance of Winglarions.

Our time of refreshment is soon over, and I sense the familiar sting of apprehension. I put away what food I cannot force myself to swallow and lean my pack against the tree’s base. I discard my cloak as well, shrugging it off my shoulders. I know it will slow me down. Azura lays her own beside her pack. Both will be a burden to us once we are within.

Liam leaves our campsite, heading sideways into the woods. When he returns shortly after, he carries a foot-long branch that is thick enough to wrap a hand around comfortably. He coats the top with an oily wax that he has brought inside his satchel. Handing it to Azura, he says, “When you are past the first few guards you will reach a series of black tunnels. You can use this as a torch by lighting it on one of the lamps before then.”

Azura nods; we are both familiar with the set of tunnels that contain no lamps. I make a mental note of the number of tunnels preceding them and then go over the guards, visualizing their stations and counting them inside my mental picture.

“And the Winglarions?” Azura asks hesitantly.

Finley approaches from behind Liam, flanked by Dugan and Jagger. “We’ll keep our eyes upward. You just worry about getting in and out as fast as possible.”