Oriana's Eyes (8 page)

 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smile. “I’ve been through worse.”

“I’m sure you have.”

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

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

Liam must be the other part-blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I laugh. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dorian and I enter the building as any trace of light is lost from the day. He holds the flap door open for me to duck into a large, warm room full of people. There is a pleasant hum of conversation, broken occasionally by scattered bouts of laughter. It is far from the monotone hush of the dining hall at the University. The activity is overwhelming.

The others are sitting along a wooden table that stretches all the way to a substantial fire fixed at the center. I have never seen a flame so large and powerful. The light seems to be alive, dancing back and forth, meticulously trapped within a circle of large stones. The others seem not to notice as its fingers lick toward them, wavering far from its encased circle. It snaps as if in fury, but is barely heard among the many voices. A thick gray cloud of smoke billows up through a shaft in the roof. The fumes give off the familiar sweet odor from outside.

Dorian shows me a way around the table and benches of people. I notice Malise reprimanding a young boy who is practically an exact copy of her, although smaller and with his black hair cut short. She looks up and notices me walking past. I smile and give a hesitant wave, yet she shows no reaction. Finally she nods before turning back to what can only be her younger brother.

I feel the intensity of its heat as we pass by the fire. I remain still for a moment, waiting to see if the fireflies are born from its flying sparks.

Once past, I notice that another table begins and curves down the center of the building. Every seat seems to be filled, yet Dorian doesn’t seem fazed. As we turn the corner, I notice an empty space beside the tall figure of Tor. He’s smiling and engaged in a conversation with some others across from him. I follow his gaze to those he’s adamantly talking with. My stomach drops, it’s Azura, and she’s sitting beside Liam.

As Dorian and I approach, Azura is the first to notice us. She smiles at Dorian but can’t hide a glare at me as I come to sit next to him.

“Ah, just in time. The food is just starting to be passed out. You might have missed your share if you were a second later.” Tor is as jovial as ever as he passes a pitcher to Dorian, who grabs the carved wooden mug in front of me and fills it. I thank him when he hands it to me, and he fills his own.

“Tor, your talk increases, and yet the Rebirth is almost upon us, and our plan is still not in order.” Azura speaks across the table sternly. A glance in my direction tells me she’s pleased I have no idea what she’s talking about. It does, however; spark my attention, and I lean in to hear better. What plans do they have for the Rebirth? It’s foreign information to me.

Dorian has stopped pouring his drink and sets it down with an unsteady hand. “Azura, this is not the time—”

Liam cuts in. “Then when is a good time? I for one am not willing to follow anyone blindly, and neither will the others. Without a plan all your ideas and aspirations are useless.” His chestnut eyes seem to hold a secret. The light of the fire dances on the walls and ceiling, giving his hair a redder glow than its usual auburn. His eyebrows are set in a frustration that goes beyond the issue at hand. He stares across the table toward Dorian with clear contempt.

The discussion halts as smooth wooden bowls are passed down the table. The procession stops once everyone has received their share. I hold my own gently between my hands. It’s warm, and the smell of the steamy contents wafts over me. The others have grown quiet as they dive into their food, and I allow myself the first savory sip. Lifting the bowl to my lips, I taste a thick stew, a creamy vegetable broth. I place the almost empty bowl on the table and reach for a piece of grain bread from the row laid out along the center of the table. After one bite, I find it to be both flavorful and sweet. The scents and tastes are so new, unlike the bland grit I am used to. I see Dorian cleaning the last of his bowl with a piece of bread and follow his example.

“I am not denying the situation,” Tor begins again, taking a gulp from his glass to clear his throat. Conversation has begun to pick up throughout the room. “A plan must be decided upon, yet there is much that still needs to be discussed. I have no intentions of rushing into this.”

“But we do not have the time to continue discussing at the speed of growing trees!” Azura speaks up and then lowers her voice. “We need to act quickly. Dorian is the only half-blood we’ve got, and I don’t see any in our future. If we miss this chance, it’s the end of us.” Azura struggles to drive her point home, and Tor nods gravely in agreement.

“If he even is a half-blood as we think …” Liam mutters under his breath, loud enough for us to hear. Azura rolls her eyes in exasperation.

I glance at Dorian to see his reaction and notice that he seems to be used to this accusation. He nods, “You’re right, we can’t be sure; but there’s only one way to find out. It’s a chance we must take.”

Tor sighs heavily. “We’ll discuss this more tomorrow. It’s been a busy day, and I’m sure you’re all as tired as I am.” As he stands, I notice that others along the table have begun to leave as well, and the place has emptied and grown quieter. Tor addresses the passing people, wishing them a good night and pleasant sleep.

Finally he turns to us. “Sleep well friends. There is nothing to worry about. I am certain we will find a way.” He grins sleepily before heading off toward an exit at the opposite side of the structure.

Dorian and the others linger a moment in silence before standing as well. He glances at Azura with irritation that she smugly accepts blame for. I stand beside him, feeling the pull of my muscles as they reluctantly come into action once again. I’m extremely tired and ready to put the new issues aside until I am better rested. The discussion was disquieting, and I’m still not sure what they are planning. Still, I feel that danger is close at hand, though for what purpose or in what form, I do not know.

I begin to head past Dorian toward the exit, checking to make sure he is following. He is all too eager to leave. I notice Azura and Liam heading in our direction as well. I reach the doorway first, and Dorian and Azura come face to face. They pause, making eye contact for a moment long enough to make my blood heat. Her eyes tell me I’m not simply overreacting, and her hand tentatively brushes his arm.

At that I swipe the flap aside and rush into the night. The frigid air striking me in the face like a cold damp hand. A fury rises within me, though not of my hatred of Odon or the University. It’s not the disappointment or betrayal of Lenora, or the disgust at Aurek’s rough grip. This anger is completely different from the others, one I have never felt before.

Dorian bursts from the tent behind me, his eyes searching the night. My white robe and light hair betray me, and he settles at the sight of me. Azura is not far behind, and her contorted face reveals everything she is feeling. She’s followed by Liam, who scuffs the ground and strides quickly away grumbling beneath his breath. He doesn’t even look at me as he sweeps past, nearly hitting me in the shoulder. His form slowly blends into the darkness as he leaves the light of the building and is lost to sight around the bend of the tree.

Azura does not seem to notice him at all. “How could you betray us? Our home? Us!” The tears in her eyes reflect the glow of the dying flames from within the building. I can see her ankle has been bandaged and now notice that she leans upon a wooden crutch tucked under her arm. She refuses to show any weakness in her stride.

Dorian shakes his head. “You betray yourself when you blame others for your hatred.” She falters, and he reaches toward her to help her regain balance. I back away, my heart leaping, and hide my twisted expression in the shadows. At his touch Azura softens. She gives him that look, the one from before, a look that can mean nothing else but love.

He steps back, retrieving his hand as if he has made a mistake. I see Azura lose control.

“I realized a while back that you and I would never come to pass.” She trembles, taking a shaky breath. “But I can’t stand to see you with someone like
her
!” She points at me, and every word bristles with the power of her pent-up rage. I flinch at the sound.

Gripping her staff tightly Azura rushes away at a speed that must be causing her a great deal of pain, although she does not show it. Once she is around the edge of the platform and out of sight, Dorian turns to me with a sigh.

“I never meant for you to hear that.” He walks toward me, letting his black hair fall over his eyes, “She has … a lot of anger. I don’t think she’ll ever get over it.” He reaches up to clasp his forehead in his palm and collapses against the side of the tree.

“I wish she could see how much we are alike, Azura and I.” I place my fingers against the oak, running them along its textured surface, feeling its complexity and letting it guide me through its crevices.

I see half of Dorian’s face, which is still illuminated by the distant fire. He looks over to me solemnly. “No, Oriana, you are not the same.” He struggles for words, “Her hatred for purebloods runs deep. That’s no better than everyone at the University. Oriana, you don’t complete the circle of hatred. I think instead you seek to change yourself, to grow by seeing both sides of the story.”

I realize there is truth in what he says, yet I wonder if it is really the best way to live. Am I growing, or refusing to face my true feelings by compromising for everyone else?

He speaks no more as we head down the platform. I follow closely, not enjoying the utter blackness and the feeling that my foot may step past the edge at any moment. My eyes eventually become accustomed to the dark, and I’m able to see that we have reached a rope ladder leading upward to another platform. Grateful that I can see how far I must climb, I start ascending without objection. Upon this next platform sit a row of cottages of thatch and wood, some glowing from fires lit within.

Dorian walks past these and to another ladder, which takes us further into the limbs of the Great Oak. The next two platforms, reached by way of two more ladders, contain similar cottages, situated sideways so that they hug the tree as the dining structure had. I notice the trees branches have thinned to about half the size of the lower ones, though still too massive to wrap my arms around. By the third ladder and platform I am more exhausted than I’ve ever imagined I could be. I’m relieved when Dorian stops in front of a cottage to open its flap door and guide me inside.

It’s even darker within, and I stand frozen for a moment to let my eyes adjust. Dorian walks to the corner of the room, rustling some items in search of something in the dark. There is a snap and then a buzz as fire bursts into life within his hands, and the room brightens to an orange glow. Dorian reaches for a square box that appears to be a paper lamp. He extends the fire, which is lit upon a dried stick, into the lamp and lights the center. The fire sits placidly inside the lamp, and Dorian extinguishes the stick with a sharp gesture. He turns back to me. “This will be your room. It’s not much, but it can become home.”

Now that my eyes have adjusted to the light, I look around. There’s a bed laid out on the floor, different than what I am used to. The mattress is a rough cloth stuffed with what smells like soft grass, and there is a thicker cloth laid over as a blanket. I’m immediately taken by its humbleness and am pleased to call it my own.

“Do you like it?” Dorian asks doubtfully.

I laugh. How can I not love a place beneath the stars, held in the arms of nature herself, far away from the white of the University walls? I have only been within it barely a moment, and it feels more like home than the University ever did. “Of course, I love it.”

Dorian grins. “Good, I’ll be just in the next cottage, if you need anything. The flame should burn out in a short while.” He begins to head for the door.

I hurry toward him before he can leave. “Dorian?”

He stops immediately to face me.

“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve given me.” I want him to stay with me.

Dorian doesn’t say anything. He takes me in his arms, holding me in his warmth. Making it impossible for me to ever let go. His hand smoothes back my hair, and I think I might not be able to stand if he walks away. I nearly forget to ask him. I pull away slightly.

“What were they talking about? At dinner, the plans, and you—”

“Oriana.” He kisses my forehead and then stares closely into my eyes. “That is for another time. For now, I need you to trust me.” He pauses, taking a slow breath. “I need you to know that—” His jaw clenches on his words. Finally he whispers, “Good night,” before slipping from the cottage.

I stand a moment in confusion and disappointment, watching the spot where he just stood. A chill creeps over me, and I seek the warmth of my bed. Once beneath the blankets, I find my troubles and the world seeping away. As the flame takes its last breath, I slip into darkness.