The Stillness of the Sky (4 page)

A roll and two of the strips of dried meat served as my dinner before I settled in to sleep at the base of an old oak. As I yawned, I untied the little pouch from my belt and dumped the seeds onto my palm to look at them once more. My last thoughts were of them as I drifted off to sleep.

Dreams of the strangest kind haunted me that night. Between a curious melody reaching me in fits and starts and fading notes, and the bulging shapes hiding behind thick fog, I couldn’t make sense of it, and woke in a state of complete confusion. I’d thought I heard someone calling my name, but, upon opening my eyes to the first rays of morning sun, found I was alone.

When the next full day resulted in no signs of human civilization, I finally started to worry. One or two berry bushes allowed me to stretch my food stores, but all that was left to me the next morning was the last two rock hard biscuits I started with three days prior.
 

A definite change in the terrain heightened my concern. While the gradual slopes of the hills the day before hadn’t bothered me, the forest was thinning, with rocks and boulders replacing trees. Cresting the rise of a hill, woods gave way to arid plains, and, in the distance, mountains rose up beyond the layer of clouds.

I sat down on a large boulder, needing to collect myself. Neither my clothing nor supplies would see me safely over the Amber Ridge Mountains, and, even if I could make it, that would leave me in Bern: a kingdom I’d never visited and knew next to nothing about. I’d heard the king there had recently been deposed after he interrupted the bloodline, and I reasoned that perhaps being a newcomer there would be made more difficult by the upheaval caused by a new monarch.

Then where should I go, if not to Bern? Twice I’d been advised to go west, but I was at the farthest I could go without jumping into a very ill-advised trip.

In the middle of my thinking, a single sound lifted the hairs on the back of my neck. A low growl somewhere behind me turned my stomach to liquefied fear.

Wolf.

Without turning, I knew there would be more than one. Searching for options, I spotted a tree twenty feet away that might provide me with an escape. Slowly, I stood and slid to the base of the boulder. Three twigs snapped behind me.

If I was fast enough, I could make it.

Snap.

I held my breath.

Three.

Two.

One…

Pushing off, I sprinted for the tree. Immediately, no fewer than five wild dogs leapt from the rocks behind me, barking and growling in pursuit. The solitary tree seemed leagues away, and I reached out my arms, desperate to be that much closer. My foot hit the rock at the base of the trunk, and I launched myself into the air, grabbing for the lowest branch. No sooner had I swung myself onto it then I stood, clambering up as high as I could go. The branches tore at me, and more than once I heard the rip of cloth over the noises of the wolves leaping up the trunk of the tree. My hands stung with callouses torn open, but I didn’t stop until a branch gave way when I set my foot upon it.

Twenty feet high, I looked down. The animals circled the base, pacing and staring up at me with hungry eyes set deep in matted gray fur. Even when they jumped at me, none came at all close to my perch, so I counted my blessings that I’d learned to climb trees and say no to dresses. At last, I took a breath to calm myself. Eventually they’d leave, and I’d be free to move again. At least until they left I’d have time to think about where to go next.

Settling in for a good, long wait, I took stock of myself and my possessions. A small rip in the elbow of my shirt gave me cause to curse, but my pack was as it should be. As I got to my belt, however, I froze.

The pouch was gone.

Hopeful that it was only caught on a nearby branch, I started my search there, tracing the path I’d taken up the tree. It only served to agitate the wolves, however, and there was no trace of the beans anywhere. All I could do was hope the blasted animals wouldn’t eat them.

As it turned out, I had much longer to wait than I anticipated. Underestimating the persistence of wolves, I assumed that within an hour, maybe two, they’d move off in search of easier prey. But when the orange tinges of sunset colored the sky, the pack was still at the base of the tree, looking certain that my aching body would win out over my need to live at any moment.

In my sixteen years, I’d been beaten nightly, locked in cold cellars, denied food for days, and lived with constant certainty that my life was moments away from being brought to a violent end, and I’d managed to wait out all of that. A few noisy puppies were nothing compared to what I’d already survived.

When the first dark clouds, illuminated in red and purple, loomed on the horizon, my resolve wavered a little. It wasn’t until the first rumbles of thunder reached my ears, however, that I earnestly reconsidered my decision to climb a tree in the middle of an open area. The wolves stood and stared in the direction of the approaching storm, but made no move to leave. I looked up into the angry darkness when the first cool drops of rain hit my face. In all my time staring at the sky, I’d learned enough about it to adequately gauge the potential destruction of a storm.

It was going to be a bad one.

A crack of lightning struck the ground not a mile away from the tree, sending the wolves running off into the distant forest. On cue, the skies opened up and released a torrent of water, making my careful descent extra treacherous. If I could just get to the bottom before—

KA-BOOM!

Halfway down the tree, I was blasted from my precarious footing, falling and flailing through the branches as I struggled for a handhold. Though the tree slowed me some, the ground rushed to meet me. I curled myself up, hoping to at least shield my face from the rocks below…

Consciousness returned slowly, first with a gentle trickle of water on my cheek, then with the scent of burnt wood. Gradually, the aches and pains found me, though the dull throb of my head and left arm weren’t as great as I thought they should be. Testing my eyes first, I slowly opened them, expecting to be blinded by morning sun if the chirp of birds was any indication for time of day. And yet, everything seemed much darker than it should have been.

Rolling over as gently as I could, I moved away from the base of the scorched tree I’d fallen from. Upon doing so, I discovered that I was not laying on the bare, rocky soil, but a large carpet of green, as rich in color as any springtime plant. It was soft and thick and slightly spongy, yet firm enough not to rip or tear under my weight. It was likely the reason I wasn’t dead, but I knew it hadn’t been there the night before.

The source of the strange darkness was another of the leaves directly above me. I reached out a tentative hand and pushed. The thing was heavy, but by no means crushing or trapping me. Completely confused, I crawled out to one side, emerging into the full light of morning.

It took my vision a few moments to adjust to the sudden brightness, but when I did, I couldn’t believe the sight in front of me. Stunned, I staggered backwards, all but falling down as my gaze drifted up from the base of the enormous plant that had sprung up overnight.

The bottom was easily twenty feet wide to either side of me, with massive leaves bursting from curled vines thicker than a man’s shoulders were broad. It seemed to be not a single plant, but three twisted around each other, leading up and up into the sky. I followed the trail of leaves spiraling around it like a giant staircase until I lost sight of them in the clouds obscuring the top.

What, by the spirits, was that thing, and how had it come to be there so instantaneously? What enchantment conjured it? Even more, how long would it remain? Eventually someone would notice it and ask all sorts of questions, and I wouldn’t have any answers for them.

I paused, hitting on one word swirling in my mind: enchantment. In running from the wolves, I’d dropped the beans. While I couldn’t prove it myself, I was fairly certain they were some sort of magic. Therefore, the only reasonable explanation, even though it was the most outlandish thing I’d ever entertained, was that the plant before me was the result of the three beans being exposed to soil and water.

“Either you’ve hit your head very hard, lost your mind completely, or found something amazing, Jack,” I said out loud, hoping that talking through the development might bring me some clarity. “As you’re not in terrible pain, let’s discount the first one for the time being.”

My feet moved without my thinking, and I carried on my monologue, trying to puzzle it out. “You might be talking to yourself, but nothing up until this moment has ever given you cause to doubt the reliability of your brain. That leaves one option.”

I stopped walking, marveling at the turn of events. As I watched, a single leaf uncurled from the base of the humongous beanstalk, spreading out on the ground before me like a carpet. Was it a greeting? That leaf led to another slightly above it, and a third and fourth after that. Each was perfectly positioned, one leading to the next.

If ever I’d been given an invitation to anything, that was it.

Not entirely sold on it, I wandered back to where I’d woken, retrieving my pack and cap from between the layers of leaves. The hat was a bit soggy when I placed it on my head, but I was sure it would dry quickly with the heat of day already growing rapidly. Again at the leaf that unfurled before me, I lifted my gaze up, following it once more into the clouds.

“I wonder how high it goes?”

The thought of being at such an elevation, looking out over everyone and everything, cemented my decision. People climbed mountains only to say they’d done it. They built larger and larger structures for no better reason than gaining a closer perspective on the stars. Why should I be any different? How many could say they’d encountered a plant such as this, and how regretful would they feel for having passed up the opportunity?

Tentatively, I set my foot upon the leaf, unsure if it would even hold me. It gave some, but easily supported what little weight I carried. A large man might find it impassable, but for me, a girl of sixteen with years of hunger under her belt, I’d have no cause to worry.

Well, no cause pending the strength of the greenery held out all the way to the top.

As many times as I’d looked to the sky, never before had it seemed so full of promise.

With a firm nod, I started up. After all, what was the worst that could happen? If nothing else, I’d finally know what it felt like to fly.

By the time I realized my mistake, it was far too late to do anything about it. After three hours of ascending the bizarre staircase, my stomach loudly reminded me of my current predicament.

I came to a stop on an extra broad leaf and sat, resting my back against the tough stalk. My options were limited.

Two rock-hard biscuits remained in my pack, made a little softer by the tiny bit of rain that managed to find its way inside the oilcloth. If I ate them, it might see me through the remainder of the climb, but I’d have at least twice as far to go without food when I finally headed back to the ground.

Alternatively, I could descend, perhaps finding something to eat after a while, but there was no way to know how long that might take. What if, in searching for sustenance, the time it took me resulted in the disappearance of this unusual plant? If it grew so quickly, might it not vanish in the same manner?

I wouldn’t risk it, especially since I had only those three beans and couldn’t grow another.

Sighing, I removed the last of my food from my pack and set the biscuits before me. Considering it, I decided to have one and save the second for celebrating when I reached the top.

As I reached for them, a dark shadow moved in the corner of my sight. Startled, I turned to see a large, winged creature circling in approach. What was it? I’d never seen a bird that large, and dragons hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years.

Then again, beanstalks didn’t grow large enough for people to climb to the stars, either. Who was I to question my new reality?

I dared not move as the shadow drew closer. Soon enough, I saw that it was, in fact, an enormous bird, with wings each larger than a man was tall. Nearer and nearer it approached until the wind from its beating wings caused me to hold my cap and biscuits tightly to me. Landing with a force that sent quaking through the entire plant, a massive crow stopped on the next leaf down from mine, cocking its head to the side and blinking at me in curiosity.

I couldn’t say precisely why, but something in its eyes spoke of deep intelligence. It was weighing me, trying to judge if I was a threat. As I stared back, I noticed ragged scars amongst its feathers… War wounds from battles I couldn’t guess at. I wondered if it could see similar scars on me. While I had only a few small ones that were mostly covered by my clothing, I felt every trace of this bird’s pain. Life had not shown it any more kindness than it had me. Perhaps it followed the beanstalk for much the same reason as I did.

Entirely unsure if I would lose a hand in doing so, I slowly broke a chunk of biscuit off and set the pieces on the leaf in front of me. If nothing else, maybe it would take the bread and spare my life. It pecked at a small piece uncertainly, found it pleasant enough, then proceeded to pick at the rest. I scattered the remaining half of the one and bit into the other, only slightly put off by the dry texture. The moment I swallowed the last bite, the crow finished as well and promptly resumed its visual inquisition of my person.

“I wish there were more,” I said, “but that was the last of what I had to eat.” I glanced up, judging the distance I had yet to go until the top. “I don’t suppose you know if there’s anything up there that would serve as dinner, or at least a snack to see me back to the ground?”

The bird cawed at me, though not in a threatening way. I chuckled. “I suppose not. I’ve always wanted to know what the inside of a cloud was like, so perhaps that knowledge will be food enough for the return trip.”

It cawed again and flapped its wings, seemingly ready to be away.