Oriana's Eyes (28 page)

 CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Each new day brings some comfort, and I awake feeling refreshed. It was Odon’s hold that had caused my illness. My physical form outwardly reflects the struggle against what threatened within. Now, with Odon gone, I feel as though time is making me younger.

Dorian has already gone, leaving me to rest further on my own. Hurrying out the door, I notice the platforms are quiet. I head to the lower platform where the dining hall is situated. Despite the empty seats, their occupants offering time at the University, it is bustling with movement as youths chatter between bites of food. From their heightened excitement, I can tell something is brewing.

I find Dorian in his usual seat, deep in thought. The seats directly across and next to him are empty. I sit beside him, startling him from deep thought.

“Good morning,” he says, recovering.

I nod with a smile, taking a moment to glance at the part-bloods to my left who are talking at an accelerated pace.

“Where’s Tor?” I ask. “Has he left for the University?” His work there is far from over. After his return to decide Odon’s fate and bury those lost, I presumed he would leave again.

Dorian affirms my assumption, “Yes, but he is to return later today.”

“Return?”

He nods. “And not alone either. He has sent word that we are to begin building immediately. He is bringing the others.”

“Building? Where?”

He smiles. “At the Great Oak, and the hill below if we have to. We will need a great deal of housing for all those young ones.”

After the morning meal, the Great Oak’s inhabitants waste no time in beginning their labor. Below, youths gather whatever useful wood they can find. Branches and bark are hauled up the ladder in a steady stream of lifting arms and ropes. The weavers work steadily on new clothing. Others gather the fluffy seeds that yield the thread. Still more are needed at the field, where extra food is collected for the extra mouths. Although there seemed to be a large community at the Great Oak, the amount of work is overwhelming, and despite our determined drive, more hands are needed.

My time is spent gathering straight sticks and brush to roof the new housing. The twigs are bundled together and pulled up by ropes into the canopy above where they are deposited on newly built platforms. After placing an armful of branches on the pile to be wrapped, I head back toward the woods. I stop short when I hear my name being called, a call that only I can hear.

“Dorian?” I turn as he approaches, Finley following close behind. I watch them curiously; they seem eager to speak with me.

“I’ve found your sister,” Dorian states bluntly, this time out loud.

I study him, unsure what this means. “Then she is well. I am glad to hear it.” I kneel to continue my gathering.

“That’s not all,” Dorian adds nervously. He glances at Finley, who nods.

I shoot Dorian a glare, already perceiving the emotion that is emitting from him.

“I have sent for her to come. She will reach the Great Oak by midday.”

“You what? But how did you …?”

“I located her mind, it took a lot of concentration, but I managed.” Dorian’s eyes light with a pride that quickly dims at the lack of amusement in my stare. He continues with less vigor, “Then I simply sent her a mental image of you and the Great Oak. I wasn’t sure she’d react to it. But she immediately changed course and is heading this way!”

From my knees I fall backward sighing as I sit upon the ground. “I guess I can’t be angry with you. Your intentions were good.” The idea of facing my sister again is unappealing. Yet I suppose now I have no choice. “Tell me when she gets here. I will speak with her.”

Tor arrives near noon. The forest behind him is crowded with those from the University. I notice the professors. No, they aren’t professors anymore. The elders carry infants in their arms. And when I spot the part-bloods who stayed behind, they carry infants as well. Tor separates from the others, and I follow, hoping for some explanation of what is to happen.

When I reach him, he is speaking with a part-blood. “Make sure they are fed and the infants are taken care of. Then those who are able will join the others and continue building the new shelters.” The part-blood gives a nod before running off as Finley and Dorian approach from different directions.

As Tor turns to me, I notice the strain in his face. These events have tired him, and I hesitate to speak.

Finley wastes no time. “Do you expect us to build housing for all these people? How will the Great Oak withstand so many new platforms?”

“We will do our best,” Tor states, his patience taxed. “And if need be, we will build upon the ground. They will work as well, and with so many hands the work will go quickly.”

Finley nods, although he is thinking what we all are: How long until our lives go back to normal?

“Tor, the infants … where did you find them?” I ask.

“They are all pureblood. We are unsure of their parents, but apparently Odon’s University housed an infirmary as well.” Tor sees that more explanation is needed. “The University had been divided into levels, separating the youths by age. You must remember being moved from one section to the other as you grew older.”

“Yes, I do.” The nursery is my earliest memory, when I was about four years old. I was unsure where the facilities were. Yet I do remember being brought from one place to the other. But where are the parents?

“Odon must have taken them from their parents,” Dorian says, although it seems he is speaking to himself. “If he controlled the purebloods completely, then he could take their children without protest.”

“He was truly evil,” Finley mutters before leaving us.

“I must leave as well. I’m long overdue for some rest,” Tor adds before striding toward the Great Oak.

I turn to Dorian, still by my side. “This is going to take time, even after everything is built. There are so many who have to rebuild their whole lives.”

Dorian brushes my hair back gently. “It may take longer, but at least now they are able to begin healing.” I nod, glancing back at the many faces of confusion and wonderment. The Great Oak will help them; we all will. They will learn, as I have learned, to think for themselves, to see the world with not just their eyes but their hearts. I will share their past, as Falda shared mine with me. I have seen what they’ve seen and lived among them. If any good came from my time within the University, it is the compassion and understanding I have for these others.

Glancing back at Dorian, I notice his eyes are closed, his forehead stitched with concentration. I feel his mind reaching out, providing hope and healing, thoughts of endless possibilities for the future. Yet his power pushes past me, flows up the Great Oak’s trunk, and cascades down the hillsides reaching over all that inhabit this forest. I recall Odon’s words after I asked him if each half-blood has a different power. He’d answered, “No, but there are different ways of using them.” Now I can see what he meant by this. Dorian turned on us while at the University. He used his powers to control our minds, keeping us from moving. Turned Odon’s own guards against him. Dorian’s ability to defeat Odon means he must be more powerful, but still he relies on the same abilities: to enter the minds of others. Now he is using that power for good, spreading the needed consolation that will keep us working toward the future.

He opens his eyes suddenly as if discovering something unexpected. He looks down at me. “Lenora is here.”

I try to keep up with his long strides as he heads for the Great Oak. We climb the base ladder quickly. My hands shake whenever I release my grip to reach for the rung above. I wonder what to expect. Will she be the Lenora I know? It’s hard to want her to be the same, even if it means not knowing her at all.

Now all of it is gone, there is no more Odon, and the University is nothing more than a white shell, hollow at its center. There is nothing more to keep us apart—except our own destinies. Lenora is a Winglarion now, and I’m still meant for the ground. We will not be able to be together from now on. She will leave for the sky, and I will remain behind. Odon kept me from transforming so that I would become one of his Odonians. Even after he is gone, I remain as I am now—a Winglarion with no wings, no ability to fly. I can never go back; the moment of the Rebirth is over. I was right there, and yet I missed it completely.

Dorian leads me higher as we climb each ladder of the layered platforms. We reach our cottages, two thatch shelters side by side. Halting, he turns to face me and looks up into the branches surrounding us. I search as well, finding only the familiar network of limbs.

“She is here …” Dorian speaks, his voice fading. His eyes move along the canopy. He looks back down at me, “You must call to her.”

I watch him for a moment before looking upward again, “Lenora?” The name is caught in my throat, and I lift my head higher to call again. “Lenora!”

There is a rustle from above, followed by more movement along a neighboring branch. I hold my breath waiting for any sight of my sister.

Then several figures emerge from the tree, gliding softly in spirals downward to stand upon the platform. They are a young man and two girls, one of whom I recognize as my replacement, the girl I saw in the University inside my old room. Lenora is the other, with her wings folded delicately behind her and an expression growing on her face.

“Oriana,” she whispers, approaching me with caution.

“You—you remember me?” are the first words that come to mind. Even that small recognition brings a rising relief.

Lenora nods. “Yes, I do. I remember other things as well, things I will remain shameful of.” Her face is different now. Her features are softer, more relaxed and serene. Despite the sadness in her eyes, she radiates a peaceful beauty.

This surprises me. I was unsure what Lenora might recall, but I did not expect specific events. “I forgive you,” I reply with certainty. It feels good to speak to her without fear, without thinking that I am saying too much, or without holding a blank stare.

“I don’t think it will be that easy,” she says, looking away.

“Lenora, we cannot blame ourselves. It was our environment that made us who we were.” It’s hard to believe that the girl I’m speaking to is the same Lenora. The cold, emotionless Lenora who showed no love in her heart. Now it seems she has a conscience, and the feelings of guilt and regret that were missing have returned decisively.

“It’s hard to explain how I’m feeling now,” she begins, “I remember some of it”—she looks up at me—“but I feel as though another person was doing them. We all feel this way.” Lenora gestures to those around her.

“It is Odon’s power that took your past away from you, but he is gone now. Odon is dead, and as long as you stay in these lands, Dorian will protect you.” I find my place beside him.

“Then it was you that saved us?” Lenora asks, bowing her head to him as the others mirror her gratitude.

“We are forever in your debt,” the young man states.

“Very grateful,” the other girl adds.

Dorian reddens, waving away the compliments as though it was nothing at all.

I address Lenora once again. “I have something I’ve wished to tell you for a while now.”

Lenora turns to me with curiosity. “Yes, I believe it is what brought me here. I remember thinking of you and then seeing this large oak. It was like a dream, and yet it became true. It sounds crazy, I know.”

I glance slyly at Dorian who tries to ignore me. “It’s not crazy, I believe you,” I begin with a smile and take a deep breath. “Lenora, I have come to discover that you and I are more than just friends or roommates. We are twin sisters.”

Lenora’s eyes widen, and I can see the similarities in our features. “How do you know this?”

We sit upon the platform, leaning against the Oak, and I explain our story. How our mother Sonya had tried to escape to right here, to the Great Oak. When I speak of her death and our mother’s love for us, Lenora begins to cry, something I thought I would never see. Lenora is not used to it, and she tries to choke back the tears at first, before embracing her sadness and allowing them to flow.

When I have finished our tale, I feel as though we are bonded by the shared experience of long ago. Although we were so young at the time, it is the knowledge that we came into this world together that brings us closer. We share an embrace, one that is genuine and honest. I find my own cheeks wet when we separate.

“Oriana, why don’t you have wings?” Lenora asks, a look of true concern upon her face.

“Odon took away the lives of many, he took away emotions and years of freedom. He took away my wings.” This seems to sadden Lenora more than ever. Tears flow from her eyes as if she is imagining herself without wings and finding the thought unbearable. I wipe the dampness from her cheeks and force a smile.

“You must fly for both of us.”

Lenora nods. Behind her, the other Winglarions spread their wings. They are anxious to be in the sky, as are all Winglarions when they have been on their feet for too long. Glancing backward, she begins to extend her own wings, eyeing the air above with expectation.

“I will see you again?” I ask, and she looks back downward.

Lenora smiles. “Yes, sister, this will not be our last meeting.” She lifts into the sky gracefully, only having her wings for a few days yet appearing to have been born with them. She gives a wave as she tilts her body upward, scooping her wings in swift strokes.