Oriana's Eyes (27 page)

I nod, deciding to let those in the past rest and focus on the future instead. There are so many freed now who need us—our guidance and care. Today is merely the beginning of our hard work. It’s going to take everyone’s effort to find order in a now chaotic world. I think of the other half-blood realms where many more children are still enslaved. Our triumph today is small compared to what we are about to face. I glance at Dorian. He was so powerful today, standing against Odon, the tyrant I once thought indestructible. But Dorian is just one, and there are other half-bloods out there, including some that may be stronger than even Odon.

I decide to push the thoughts aside. Tonight we will honor those lost. Tonight we will celebrate the freedom of many and the prospect of many more.

We reach the Great Oak as the moon appears in the night sky, dancing among its many glittering children. Our celebration is bittersweet as we share our story and speak of those that will not return. As I look around me at the many faces of the living, I see the hope resurging that had once escaped me.

That night, before I fall into bed beside Dorian, I feel the weight of something from within my robes. Reaching inside the hidden pocket I find the burden, Narena’s journal. With a sigh I place it upon my dresser, now finding the needed ease to reach sleep.

 CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I wake to find Dorian at the entrance to my cottage speaking softly to someone on the outside. He gives a nod and turns to face me, letting the flap close behind him.

“There is a meeting to attend,” he announces, “Tor has returned to discuss Odon.”

When we arrived at the Great Oak last night, Odon was placed in a well-guarded structure upon one of the platforms. It was announced that the next day his fate would be decided.

Today is that day. I slip out of bed and slide on my sandals. This meeting is sure to be a long one, as there will be many alternating opinions of what will become of the tyrant. My emotions wish him only death, but my head knows it would be a reckless act.

Dorian and I grab our cloaks; the morning is cold, and the cloud cover seems to forebode a chilling day. They sweep behind us as we rush along the platform. A wind howls overhead, pushing us backward, keeping us from our destination. My own uneasiness holds me back as well. I’ll be glad when the event is over and we can concentrate on burying our loved ones. Dorian’s arm helps me as I fight against the wind, clutching my hood to keep it from flying backward.

By the time we reach the meeting hall, it is a welcome sight. We slip in, the whistling wind heralding our arrival. As we are taking our seats, the last of the others enter, and last of all Azura. She hides her swollen face beneath the shadows of her hood. Liam’s death is still fresh on all our minds. Finley, Dugan, and Jagger take their seats, I notice Weasel is not among them. I bite my lip in distress. He must still be mourning Buck. There are other part-bloods of our generation here as well, sitting against the wall, where stools have been brought to accommodate them. This decision must involve many.

I take my seat next to Dorian, uncomfortable with the eerie silence. I realize that the others stare at the far corner at the head of the room, where a lone figure sits. Beside him are two part-bloods, their hands wrapped around each of his arms. Odon’s face is covered in shadow as he hangs his head. His wrists have been tied with twine as well as his ankles. Around his shoulders, a black cloak has been draped. I give my head a slight shake, thinking to myself, “Those types of bindings will not keep his power at bay.” It is in fact Dorian who is keeping him from entering all our minds and taking over. He is only as powerful as those who follow him. Alone, he is as mortal as the rest of us.

Tor takes his place at the head of the room, and there is a shift of attention onto his tall form. “Let us begin,” he states curtly. “We are here to discuss the fate of this man.” Tor gestures to Odon as though he were just another being and not the once powerful dictator who caused uncountable deaths within his lifetime.

Finley is the first to stand and speak out. “I understand my words might sound heinous, but I think it only wise to execute this man. If he is left alive, we risk the past repeating itself.” There are murmurs of agreement from among the crowd.

“He does not deserve such an easy escape,” Azura mutters from within her cape. I watch her with compassion. She is truly suffering.

I am surprised when Dorian speaks next. “I understand your hatred as much as anyone here, maybe more …” he murmurs to himself and then raises his voice again. “But if we were to kill Odon, it would be murder. This man is not a threat to us now. He is unarmed and unable to cause more destruction. We cannot kill him in this manner; we would be no better than he.”

“Doesn’t he deserve the same fate he would deal another?” Finley continues, certain that his decision is the right one. If I did not know him so well, I would think he was a cruel young man. Yet I know why he reacts this way. Finley was alive when the others died. He watched his friends fall beneath Odon’s hand. His own family was lost to this man. Now that we have him in our grasp, we would have ourselves to blame if he ever harmed another again.

The hum of the rooms settles again as Tor stands to speak. “Finley, we cannot kill this man.” He raises a palm to his friend of many years. “Dorian is right, look at his state. He is unable to defend himself; killing him would be cold-blooded murder. Could you live with yourself after something like that?”

Finley sighs, as if he can see no other way. “I could live with myself if it was him.”

I hear the others around us muttering. There is a variety of opinions among them. This meeting will last for a time longer if I do not think of something. There must be some way to satisfy all parties.

“What if we could place Odon where he will be safe, yet no longer a danger to anyone else?” I suggest.

“We cannot guard this man for the rest of his life,” Tor answers. “His natural death will not come for several years, are we to watch over him until then?”

I pause for a moment, trying to come up with something worth our time. It is Azura who answers.

“The caves,” she says softly, and then louder: “The caves!” She stands, her hood falling back to reveal her reddened eyes and lips. “We can put Odon in a cell of the caves. If we supply him with food and water occasionally, then he could live out his life and never be a burden to anyone.” Of course, Azura is likely to think of the plan. She herself spent time within its darkness. Odon is well deserving of such a place.

“He will be a safe distance, yet still within the lands.” Tor slowly nods his head as he works out the construct of the decision. “Dorian’s powers will reach him as necessary. We would merely have to monitor him every few months. Can you agree with this, Finn?”

Finley looks from Tor to Azura. All other eyes are on him. This new idea appears suitable. For Azura to see her captor sent to live out his life in the place where she was meant to live out hers is more than she could have imagined. I understand her desire to see him thrown away for all eternity. Finley needs no more convincing. He nods.

Tor calls for a vote among the crowd, but it is clear that Azura’s suggestion has won them over. It is agreed that Odon will be brought to live out the rest of his days within his own dark prison. He will be given food and water when needed, but no more accommodations will be made.

The guards pull Odon to his feet and guide him through the meeting hall’s door. We follow him out. I turn to find Dorian, his face focusing on Odon with unusual pressure. “Dorian … what is it …?”

A yell erupts among those around us. I turn to see Odon tear away from the guards. Tor reaches out for him but Odon dodges backward avoiding his grasp. Then he flings himself backward, over the edge of the platform, descending into the shadows below at a breathtaking speed. Tor and Finley are the first to rush to the edge, peering into the abyss below.

“We have to see if he is still alive down there!” Finley shouts, starting to head down the ladder.

“He is already dead,” Dorian calls to Finley with a bitter confidence.

“There is no way he could’ve survived that fall,” Tor adds in the same tone of certainty.

“We can’t take that chance. We would never be definitely sure …” Finley starts to protest.

“I am positive.” Dorian states again, raising his voice for all to hear. “I felt his mind blink shut. He is in blackness now.”

There are whispers among the crowd as they slowly move down the platform and out of sight. Finley and Tor speak quietly as they follow.

Odon had chosen to use the last of his energy to kill himself. He knew he would be driven mad in a cell within his own caves. He had chosen an easy escape.

“Odon won in the end, didn’t he?” Azura stands beside me, the wind pulling at the curls of her hair.

“No, he didn’t.” I take her hand. It is so cold. “We are alive and free. Odon pays for what he’s done, no matter where he is. It will torment him for eternity.”

“You really believe that?” Azura asks. Her tone says she is willing it to be true.

“I do.” We walk together, Dorian, Azura, and I, heading to the lowest platform where the others will be preparing to bury those gone. Odon will not be mourned. Now the wind compels us downward, willing us toward the final good-byes.

When we arrive on the lower platform before the longest ladder, we meet up with Piper and Lily. Toby, Malise, and Aaron are there as well. They welcome us, holding back tears. Word of Odon’s demise has already spread, but thoughts are elsewhere.

In a long procession, we descend the ladder, the rhythm of our steps as one. I try to remain strong, knowing how delicate Azura is in this moment. I wipe at tears that refuse to recognize my stubborn will. Azura touches the ground beneath me, and I lick my lips before facing her. Dorian is behind me, offering soothing thoughts, and I am able to stand straight.

The others seek the graves of their dearest friends. Azura seeks a group of part-bloods burying Liam. His youthful form is wrapped in clean rough cloth. Azura grips my hand tightly, lifting her hood over her head and retreating slightly from the grave. When he is fully covered, his resting place beneath the shade of the Great Oak’s protective branches, Azura kneels to place a single yellow flower upon the ground. In its simplicity I see its beauty, its delicate petals representing life and love. A thought occurs to me, and I leave Azura’s side to dash into the forest.

I run along the familiar stream whose simple tune tells of a continuing circle of death and rebirth. I splash through it at its shallowest point, the cold water reminding me of pain that comes and goes. Past these rows of bushes, I reach the clearing where the fruit tree stands. Some things have not changed. I climb upon its root that forms a seat and reach into its branches to retrieve a ripened fruit. I hurry back to the others, cradling the fruit in my arm like a newborn infant.

When I’ve reached Azura and Dorian, who have been joined by Tor, they look at me quizzically. I kneel between Azura and Dorian and place the fruit beside Azura’s flower. We all stand.

Azura clasps my wrist for a moment. “Thank you,” she says before heading away.

One day the fruit will bring new life, a tree like its mother. Liam will live through the soil, through the tree above him, living forever through the endless life of this world. Dorian takes my hand as I begin to shed tears. I look up into his eyes, trying to console myself that with death comes life, with enslavement comes freedom. But when I see that Dorian sheds tears silently as well, I feel no shame in releasing my own upon his shoulder.

When we part, Tor shares low words with Dorian, and I find myself drawn to another. Finley stands alone beside a grave. When I reach his side, he turns to me and simply says, “Buck.”

“I’m so …”

“I think Weasel feels the worst of it. He was there. Buck saved his life before losing his own. Even though Odon is gone, the pain remains.” I am grateful that Finley does not blame me for Buck’s death, although I still blame myself.

“It will take time to heal, but the days will pass. Weasel will realize that Buck can never die. He will live on with all of us, as will the others.” I gesture toward the fresh graves, arranged neatly in a circle. I feel as though no words can justify our feelings, although I try to see the reason in it all.

“We succeeded.” Finley pushes a hand through his hair with a rueful grin. “And with every great accomplishment comes great loss.”

That night Dorian and I sit upon the platform outside our shelters. I look up into the night sky, searching through the stars to find one familiar. They are all alike, yet beautiful individually.

“Dorian, do you know what happened to the others? The purebloods who transformed during the Rebirth yesterday?” I can’t help but wonder if Lenora is all right.

“I sense their minds, but there are so many. It is difficult to tell what they are thinking or feeling.” Dorian closes his eyes for a moment, and I sense his mind reaching out into the lands beyond. I am already beginning to perceive his thoughts. Nothing distinct; instead I feel the essence that they emit.

“During the Rebirth I watched the Winglarions carry the Finlarions away.” I ask the question I’ve pondered ever since. “Where did they take them?” .

“They brought them to the ocean. If they had not, the Finlarions would’ve died without water.”

I look out to where the moon casts its glow on the ocean’s surface, still only a thin line to me. I strain my eyes, trying to get a better look, but there is no improvement.

“Don’t worry, I will stand by my promise. One day I will show it to you myself.”

I smile, Dorian finishes my thoughts often now.

“Oriana—”

I turn to him, trying to grasp his thoughts.

“I know you have been thinking of Lenora lately, your sister. There must be some way you could …”

“See her again?” I shake my head. “I tried that. She doesn’t remember me. Now that she’s gained her wings, she belongs to another world. We must be separate from now on, isn’t that how it works?”

Dorian presses his lips together, “Odon prevented your transformation; that cannot be reversed … but now that he’s gone, your sister could be a completely different person! You could start all over again, become reacquainted.”

I eye him for a moment, believing for a second that it might be true. I shake my head, “You didn’t see the way she looked at me. It is better if we stay in our separate worlds. I can’t go through that again.”

Dorian sighs but says nothing more of my sister for the rest of the night. We retire to bed as the moon reaches its peak in the night sky.