The Fog of Forgetting (13 page)

“You really do look like a Melorian,” said Chase.

Knox examined the knives in his harness.

“Well, I guess I'm feeling like one,” he said. “And now I want to find Frankie.”

T
hey left the cabin at first light, after only a few hours of sleep, filing through the woods in Melorian fashion on a path few would be able to discern without knowing it was there. Tinator led, armed with his crossbow; Evelyn stumbled behind him, eyes cast down, not caring where she was going. She hadn't uttered a word since Frankie's disappearance, and she walked hunched over, as if her shoulders had curved inward overnight.

Mara followed closely behind Evelyn, steering her now and then with a light touch on her elbow. Her poncho was stowed carefully in the bottom of her basket, wrapped around the poisoned sliver. Without her hood, her scar was vivid across the left side of her face, spilling down her neck in raised, ropey channels like the melted wax of a candle. Behind her walked Teddy, then Seaborne, followed by Chase, Calla, Knox, and Sarn. Duon and Duor had gone ahead to scout. Axl brought up the rear, moving slowly to keep pace with a limping Tar.

They proceeded battle-ready; this would mean long marches with few stops, nights on the ground, and no fires whatsoever. Everyone was to have their hoods up, their weapons close and ready to deploy at Tinator's signal. When Teddy grew tired, Seaborne carried him. In this manner, Tinator hoped to reach the inner sanctuary of Melor, a place the Melorians called the Wold, in two days. As they walked inland, to the north, the forest grew denser and more dimly lit, with only small patches of sun filtering through the canopy. Pine needles carpeted the ground, muffling their footsteps, and hillocks of moss sprouted here and there in varying shades of electric green.

Knox took close note of everything, looking for landmarks and unusual markings so that he would remember their path if they needed to travel it again. It seemed important, though he couldn't exactly say why. Every now and then, his eyes strayed ahead toward his brothers and to the back of Evelyn's hood.

Evelyn marched without registering anything but the searing pain in her chest. For as long as she could remember she had carried a weight there, something vague and heavy but fragile enough to break into sharp, tearing little pieces that pierced her from the inside. She curved herself around the pain, trying not to jostle the pieces and embed them further. Her mouth shaped a silent prayer as she walked, her lips moving without sound.

If she's dead, let me die
.

And why not? The Haitian gods of death, the Ghede, had been stalking her since she was a baby. They had taken everything from her: her parents, her home, her country. And now they had followed her here.
Please. Please
, she begged silently, hoping they would listen.
Please don't take Frankie, too
. A silent wail rose from deep inside her and threatened to escape. She clamped her lips down.

“She may yet be found,” said Mara reassuringly, from behind.

Evelyn was sick of trying to figure out how the Melorians knew what they did. There were people like them in Haiti: holy men and women who read people's thoughts as if they were spelled out on their chests. She wondered if Mara could see inside her heart, and if so, would it look as black as it felt.

It was near dark when Tinator called for a halt to their march. Through the shadowy lacework of branches overhead, the setting sun tinged the edges of the few, forlorn clouds with a brilliant pink. Birds trilled a warning at their passage, but otherwise, the company laid their burdens to the ground in complete silence. Mara parceled out small bars of dried fruit and grain and a strip of dried meat each. They ate quickly and hungrily.

Evelyn alone refused food, staring unseeingly into the darkness. Mara settled herself beside her, saying nothing, lying so that their backs touched. The warm pressure startled Evelyn. The Melorians rarely touched one another—or any of them—unless it was necessary. Mara was giving her a great gift, Evelyn realized, and with the realization came the grief that Evelyn had been trying to keep at bay through the long day. Her mouth opened wide and a high keening poured out, shaking her body. Mara lay unmoving as a tree trunk, allowing her back to absorb the impact of Evelyn's shuddering sobs.

“Don't cry, Evelyn. Don't cry,
please
,” Knox pleaded in a stricken whisper. “We'll find her. We'll get her back.”

“Shhh, let her cry, lad,” said Seaborne. “Sometimes the best dressing for a wound is salt water.”

Chase crossed his arms over his head and buried his head in the crook of his elbows. The sound of Evelyn crying was worse than anything they had experienced so far.

“What do the Exorians want with Frankie, anyway? Why did they attack us, and what the heck is a
tehuantl?
” He cried out. His voice cracked the stillness of the evening like a shot, but Chase didn't care.

Seaborne gave him a piteous look. Tinator shifted uneasily on his haunches and sighed heavily. When he next spoke, his voice sounded old and tired.

“You have suffered a loss we Melorians know too well. I have been loathe to reveal too much to you before, but it is time you understood our enemy. You deserve to know how it came to be that we are at war with the Exorians, since you, too, now have your own grievance to right. But before you understand the power of the enemy, you must learn about your own powers and of the making of the
atar
at the beginning of things. It is a story every Melorian child knows. I shall tell it to you now, for it may give you hope.” Tinator sat cross-legged on the ground, his back erect, his crossbow leaning against his knee. He spoke softly.

“Before dawn, before time and weather, before the arc of life began its ascent, the great Weaver, of many names and many forms, both male and female, known and unknown, grew cold and weary in the darkness of eternity. Wishing for warmth and companionship, the Weaver set this desire against the limitless void, like flint against stone. Sparks flew from the darkness and from these sparks grew the soul of all being: the divine fire, the
atar
, which is the energy that binds all living creatures to one another and to the Weaver, the creator of all.

“The full force of the
atar
cannot be seen or described in human terms—it cannot be fathomed or contained. Even in the beginning the
atar
shifted and warped so that life as we know it was slow to take hold. No sooner would the Weaver shape a vessel than the potency of the
atar
would consume it. There was no constancy and the world was slow to take form. Desiring this new creation to thrive, the Weaver divided the
atar
into four lesser qualities that were more easily contained. They are the foundation of all life.” A gentle breeze stirred the underbrush. Tinator paused for a moment, then continued.

“On Ayda, we call these four qualities
daylights
. One feels them most readily when the wind blows, the earth moves, the rain falls, and the sun rises. What is less understood is how these qualities move
within
us and other vessels.” Tinator cast his eyes around the huddled group.

“In an animal, indeed, in us, the balance of daylights is more equal than in, say, a tree or a brook, yet all living things have a stronger quality of daylight that defines their destiny. It is how a blade of grass becomes a blade of grass, or how an Aydan knows to which land he or she belongs. I am a Melorian because the strength of my daylights is fed by the earth and the trees. You may find your own daylights call you elsewhere and bind you to your own Keeper.”

“Seaborne told me about the Keepers,” said Knox. “Aren't they like your chief or something?”

Tinator shifted, unsure whether or not he should continue. He questioned Mara with a glance; she assented, nodding for him to go on.

“On Ayda, we are blessed to be home to the four stones of power: Each stone contains one of the essential qualities of the daylights so that the full power of the
atar
remains divided and contained. The people and the lands of Ayda are named for their stone: Melor, Metria, Varuna, and Exor. In turn, our lands and each stone is protected by a Keeper. It is the sacred duty of the Keepers to steward the daylights under their protection and ensure the balance between the four, because life thrives only when the daylights work together as the Weaver intended—here,” Tinator swept his arm to encompass the forest, “—and here.” He brought his hand to his heart. “I am a Melorian, thus I am bound by my essential nature to the stone of Melor, my Melorian kin, and our stone's Keeper, Rothermel. He is charged with the preservation of the stone of Melor and all those who hear its call.”

Chase had remained silent throughout Tinator's explanation, trying to make sense of it. Now he felt compelled to ask more questions.

“If Rothermel is the Keeper of Melor, who and where are the others?”

“Rothermel has two sisters: Rysta is the Keeper of Metria, the water stone, who refreshes the memories of the world. Ratha is the Keeper of the stone of Varuna. She governs the air and wind and sees that none fall into torpor and stagnation.”

“And Exor?”

Tinator grimaced visibly in the dim light.

“The fire stone of Exor was once kept by their brother, Ranu, steward of the Exorian lands and all who inhabit them. His task was to warm and comfort the Earth and its people so they might shine undimmed, but his daylights were fragmented long ago. He fell at the hands of the enemy during the Great Battle, and his lands, people, and the stone of Exor were stolen. They now belong to Dankar, scourge of Melor. It is he who took the little girl, he who has caused your grief.”

“But why?” croaked Evelyn, out of the gloom, her voice raw from crying.

“It is enough to tell you that there was once one other stone on Ayda—the most powerful of all: the Fifth Stone, which was the heartstone that bound the essences of the other four and governed the full force of the
atar
.”

“What do you mean
bound the essences of the other four?
”asked Chase. All this talk of stones and special powers was making him wonder all over again if the Melorians had a screw loose.

By way of an answer, Tinator raised the thumb and forefinger on each of his hands and, as he did, named them out loud.

“Melor, Metria, Varuna, Exor: the four stones of Ayda. Separately, each has limited power, but if I connect them—” he pressed the thumb and forefinger of one hand to the thumb and forefinger of the other hand to form a diamond shape, “their qualities form a complete circuit—very strong, but also limited.” He broke the shape and then pressed it back together to underscore his words.

“What you do not see resides in the space between: the
atar
, the limitless energy that is contained in the Fifth Stone, which was born from the spark of creation at the beginning of things.”

Chase unconsciously mimicked Tinator, pressing together his thumbs and forefingers, thinking out loud.

“So there's this cosmic energy, or whatever, that is keeping everything together. And then there are these other qualities, the daylights, and the Keepers watch over it all, including us, to make sure it's all humming along. But where does this guy Dankar come in?”

Tinator turned a heavy eye toward him.

“Dankar's desire to possess all of the stones has plagued us and brought enmity to Melor; for he would have dominion over everything and everyone.”

“But what about the Fifth Stone? Can't it stop him?” Evelyn whispered.

“The Fifth Stone has passed beyond knowledge,” Tinator replied sadly. “It was lost to Ayda during the Great Battle, perhaps gone beyond this world's grasp forever.”

“So you're saying it doesn't really exist,” Chase interuppted.

“No, I did not say that. I, for one, do not believe the power of the Fifth Stone is so easily forsaken, wherever it now resides. The Weaver has given us many reminders that the five stones are inseparable and not easily divided, including the shape of our vessel.” Tinator placed a hand on each of his thighs, then on his forearms, and then drew a line from his head to his heart. “The Four and the One, bound together. So it is with all things.”

Teddy held one of his hands up, palm facing out, in the customary Melorian greeting. He wiggled his fingers and thumb.

“Four and one.”

Tinator pressed his own fingertips to Teddy's and bowed his head.

“The power of the five stones is all around us. It
is
us,” he explained. “And that is why we must not despair. One day the Fifth Stone will return to Ayda to defeat Dankar. One day our people shall be reunited, and we will have peace.”

T
hey were up and marching again at daylight. The ground rose gently as the morning wore on; soon they could hear the sound of water rushing over rocks in the distance. By midday, Tinator called for a halt atop a vast granite shelf that wrapped around a rising shoulder of earth and then dropped off precariously. A great curtain of water, at least a hundred feet across, fell straight down from a dizzying height above them. Chase stooped by the edge of the shelf and threw a small rock down into the gulch, watching it drop into misty haze.

“How far down does it go?” he asked.

“Far and deep,” answered Tinator, elusive as usual. “We call the river that feeds it the Vossbeck; it is one of the two great rivers that flow from Lake Voss, which marks the northern border of Melor. These falls are known as the Veil of the Vossbeck.” He turned his ear toward the roar of tumbling water. “We are now at the threshold of the Wold, the stronghold of the Melorian people. It is well-protected: None may enter without Rothermel's permission.”

Knox peered over the shelf edge and said, “I'm assuming we have permission.”

Seaborne gave him a nudge backwards from the edge.

“We'll find out soon enough, won't we?”

Tinator took the lead once again, walking at an easy pace, the line of his shoulders now more relaxed. The sense of imminent danger lessened and the morning grew bright and warm. Chase daydreamed as he walked, trying to picture the Wold. The Melorians had said very little about it, but from their descriptions it sounded like a real village with farms and houses and people. If it weren't for the forlorn way Evelyn's hood pouched over her head, or for the fact that whoever took Frankie might be coming for them next, he might have been excited.

“Chase, do you see anything?” whispered Knox, appearing suddenly at his elbow.

“Like what?”

“Dunno; a hidden guy or a weapon or something? Seaborne said this area is well-protected, but I don't see anything or anyone.”

“You never see a Melorian in the forest unless he or she wants to be seen,” Calla interjected. “You should know that by—”

Tinator stopped abruptly, cutting her off. He lifted his hand to indicate silence and cocked his head to the side to listen. Instinctively, Seaborne lifted Teddy onto his back. A loud, sharp whistle rang out to the south of them—a signal of danger from either Duon or Duor. Tinator circled back around to the rear at a dead run, gesturing for Sarn and Axl to accompany him. Mara would not allow Tar to follow. Moments later, strangled-sounding screams echoed through the trees, loud enough to be heard over the distant yet still roaring sound of the waterfall.

“Oh man,” groaned Knox, “is that what I think it is?”

“Run!” Calla yelled in response, knives drawn.

“Follow me,” cried Seaborne. He tightened his hold on Teddy and bolted into the dense forest. Knox took off, followed by Chase, who shoved Evelyn, waking her from her trance. They ran blindly, all thoughts of staying in formation waylaid by the urgency in Seaborne's voice. Shouts of warning echoed around them. Mara and Calla stayed behind to join Tinator and his guard. Tar sprinted into the woods. Another scream rang through the air, closer this time.

“Move! Faster!” yelled Seaborne.

Chase was running hard. He'd run farther and faster than he thought possible, but his lungs were straining and he was going to have to stop. He threw a look over his shoulder and saw a flash of movement in the bushes not far away. Whatever it was, it would be on him in no time. He struggled for breath, his legs weak. He knew he needed to run, but his lungs wouldn't let him. He made a quick decision, slowed, and pulled out his sword. Then he turned around. Branches and leaves shuddered in the distance. Something was approaching. Chase raised his sword.

“What do you think you're doing?” cried Evelyn as she reeled back beside him.

“I—I can't breathe … can't run,” he panted.

She looked straight in his eyes for a moment, then calmly pulled out her knife.

“I'm not running either. If these things hurt Frankie, I'm going to kill them.” Her voice was strange and remote, her eyes glittered beneath the hood. “I hope you learned how to use that,” she nodded toward the sword.

Chase looked down at his hands. “Umm, sort of.”

Sunlight flickered through the forest canopy; the leaves of the dense brush ahead of them shook as if a wind was blowing, but the air remained still, and deadly quiet. Chase's heart pounded so loudly he wondered if Evelyn could hear it. The bush shook again. Something was crawling toward them.

“Remember, we have to let it come close,” Evelyn whispered.

Chase swallowed.

All at once the forest erupted in shredded leaves and screaming snarls that seemed to come from everywhere. Tinator burst into view in a dead sprint, his crossbow lowered. Mara, Calla, and Sarn emerged, fanning out in a protective net. Calla stopped when she saw the two eldest children. She shook her head in disbelief.

“Do the two of you think you can fend off a pack of
tehuantl
with a knife and a sword? They'll have your throats out before you take a stroke. Put the blades away. You must climb!”

The Melorians herded Chase and Evelyn to the foot of a distant tree and formed a semicircle around them, weapons facing out. A hand descended from one of the lower branches. Evelyn grabbed it and was pulled to safety. Chase went next, coming face-to-face with Seaborne. Knox and Teddy peered down from a branch above them.

A deep, menacing bark in the distance preceded another roar: very close this time. The Melorians circled the tree.

“Why do I get the feeling
tehuantl
can climb trees?” croaked Knox.

“Jump into and climb,” whispered Seaborne. “Not much they can't do, actually.”

“Great—jumping, climbing, man-eating machines.”

“Not machines,” said Seaborne. “
Cats
.”

As if they'd been conjured by Seaborne's words, three enormous jet-black panthers suddenly leapt from the underbrush and landed, spitting and snarling, just yards from the tree. Their ears were flattened above their narrowed eye sockets, which revealed only a sliver of deep yellow that flashed like gold against their sleek, dark fur. They whipped long tails back and forth, sizing up the Melorians on the ground.

“Holy crap, look at them!” Knox exclaimed.

“They're beautiful,” breathed Evelyn.

“That's one word for them,” said Seaborne.

No one moved. The
tehuantl
paced a few feet away from the Melorians, muscles undulating like waves under their glossy fur.

“Why don't they shoot?” Chase whispered to Seaborne.

“The
tehuantl
were once a great race, like the hounds of Melor—it is grievous to harm them, even now when their daylights have been corrupted by the enemy,” Seaborne whispered back. “Tinator will not strike unless he must.”

Tinator seemed transfixed by the animals' fluid movements, his eyes keeping pace as the
tehuantl
circled the tree, their heads even with Mara and Calla's shoulders. Yet the arm holding the crossbow did not flex. Chase remembered what Tinator had told him the first day they met:
Drawing blood is easy; deciding when it is necessary is not
.

A low, threatening growl rose from the largest cat's throat. Its lips curled back, showing long, pointed fangs and a thin froth of spittle. It stopped directly in front of Tinator and their eyes locked. The cat shifted its weight onto its haunches, ready to pounce. The two others did the same. Tinator pulled back the bow string. All three cats leapt into the air simultaneouly. Tinator released a bolt just as a sudden volley of arrows rained down from above.

The
tehuantl
fell back, hissing and snarling in pain, arrows embedded deep in their flanks. Tinator's long feathered bolt jutted from the chest of the largest
tehuantl
. It screamed and batted at the shaft with an enormous, clawed paw, then stumbled off into the forest. The remaining two creatures hissed and paced a few more times, then slunk away after their leader. After several tense moments, Tinator finally lowered his crossbow and lifted himself up into the tree.

“You shot that one straight in the chest!” cried Knox, eyes agog.

Tinator wore a troubled expression. “The daylights of the ancient breeds are hearty. They do not fragment so easily, yet my blow may have been the killing kind. I am sorry for it, but there was no other way.” He sighed and chucked his crossbow more firmly on his shoulder, then asked Chase, “What are you waiting for?”

Chase made a move to swing down.

“No,” said Tinator, and pointed toward the sky with his thumb. Chase looked up. Above were thick branches circling higher and higher around the trunk like a ladder. Seaborne and Teddy were already climbing hand over hand, to the top. “Follow them.”

Within minutes, the entire company had risen high enough for the ground to disappear completely. About two-thirds of the way up, they came to a wide platform built around the tree, accessed by a small hatch and a wooden ladder. Chase followed Knox and Evelyn through the hatch where they found Seaborne and Teddy, along with three stern-looking strangers—Melorians by their dress—with helmets, longbows, and breastplates strapped over their tunics. Tinator held up his hand once everyone had gained the platform.

“We are crossing into the Wold, heartland of Melor and home to its Keeper. For this reason, crossings to the Wold are secret, guarded with vigilance—as you have already witnessed—by those bound to protect it or die.” He nodded to the three well-armed Melorians.

“Once you have crossed, you may not leave the Wold without permission from Rothermel. Should you try, you will either be killed or cast into the cold waters of the Vossbeck. You have seen what lies waiting for you in the forest. Do not hold the trust Rothermel has placed in you lightly.”

One of the guards handed Tinator a thick coil of rope tied with many knots and loops. It attached to another loop and ran across a wooden pulley that rolled back and forth across two taut ropes, which were completely hidden by the greens and browns of the forest canopy.

Sarn stepped up first. He placed each foot in a loop and put his arms through two higher loops, then wrapped his fists around the main shaft of rope. He jumped lightly off the platform and shot through the trees and past the waterfall, the pulley whizzing through the air above him.

“Melor is so cool!” Knox exclaimed.

“Except for all the things trying to kill us,” countered Chase.

The pulley came back into view, empty. Calla grabbed Evelyn's arm. From somewhere behind them, one of the Melorian warriors produced a thick plank of wood with two holes bored at each end. Calla quickly tied it, like a swing seat, onto the rope. She climbed through and leaned against the plank, motioning to Evelyn to do the same.

“Hang on!” she yelled, and yanked the rope. They swung out over the treetops, twisting with the momentum and gaining breathtaking speed as they flew out over the shade of the forest. On their right, passing so quickly that Evelyn barely had time to register it, the Veil of the Vossbeck fell into the sparkling depths of the ravine. The pulley screamed as the swing ran swiftly into the cool of the forest on the other side. Another broad platform had been built amidst a stand of close-growing trees. Sarn was waiting on it, accompanied by an array of Melorian guards. As Calla and Evelyn came near, the swing slowed, so that by the time they reached the platform it was at a complete standstill. They hopped off lightly. Calla tugged at the rope. It retreated, jerking with each invisible pull of the wire at the other end.

Two by two they crossed the waterfall.

“So that's how you move around!” said Knox, grinning. He and Tinator were the last to land on the platform.

Calla nodded. “We also have bridges, but the nearest one is another day's march. Only Melorians know the whereabouts of sky crossings.” She looked past Knox at her father, who was already in deep discussion with one of the guards. When Tinator turned back to the group, his eyes lingered on Evelyn.

“Rothermel awaits us,” he announced grimly.