“Please don’t kill me!” the girl begged. “I don’t want to die! Please! I promise that if you let me live, I’ll save your life someday!”
I laughed at the kid. She was in her twenties, not really a kid, but she was. “Even if my life needed saving, what makes you think you could do it?” I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. Just for the fun of it, I guess.
“C’mon, you don’t have any enemies? And I’ll save your life because I promised, and I keep my promises!”
I didn’t care about her damn promise, but she amused me, so I took my knife from her neck and used it to cut the ropes I’d tied her with. “Fine, go on, get out of here,” I told her.
She jumped up, happy to be free, and I thought she was about to run away, okay, actually I kinda thought she was about to skip away. But she just stood there.
“What’re you sticking around for? Get out of here!”
“No. I have to save your life.”
“It’s okay, I’m not holding you to that. Go home!”
“No. I keep my promises.”
“Think of it as you’ll be saving my life by not telling anyone about this.”
“No, you wouldn’t hang just for scaring me a bit.”
“No, I’d hang for the gold.”
She was standing right next to a pile of the coins, and she picked one up and ran it through her fingers. “What gold?”
“Exactly. If you told anyone I was making money, I would hang. So you’re saving my life by not telling anyone. Now go!”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
If I’d really wanted her gone, I could have driven her away at knifepoint. Maybe. Or I could’ve just killed her. But by that point I didn’t figure she was any danger to me, so I didn’t care that much.
So the girl--her name was Ellie, she told me--stuck around. She didn’t quite become part off my crew, since she didn’t do any of the stealing or killing or even working the coin press-- but she was as good as. I introduced her to Fape, my second in command, as my bodyguard.
“What the hell?” he asked. “Her? Really, man, if you need a bodyguard, you can do better.”
“She wants to save my life.”
He guffawed. “Well, I guess it’s better than if she wanted to save your immortal soul.”
We all pretty much just got used to having Ellie around. Nobody ever took the idea that she’d save my life seriously. Until she saved my life, of course.
It happened just about like you’d expect, if you expected it. I was meeting an, erm, client, unarmed, because that’s how that kind of thing goes and they patted me down to make sure. Ellie tagged along. She was also unarmed, of course, I don’t think I ever saw her touch a weapon. I turned over the goods to the man I was meeting. Rather than turning over the money, he pulled a knife.
Before I could even react, Ellie jumped in front of me and punched the man in the nose. He was even more surprised at I was, so Ellie was able to grab the knife easy, and we got out of there.
“I told you I keep my promises,” Ellie told me, and was gone.
That night, our hideout was raided, and we were all arrested. They said they’d been tipped off by a young woman.
Ellie never did promise not to rat us out. I’ll be out in a few months, and I’m still alive. So I don’t hold any grudges.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
A More Subtle Conquest
The man opened his eyes, realized that someone was standing over him, and squeezed them shut again. “Please don’t kill me!”
“I hadn’t planned on it.” The voice was calm and sensible, low pitched but definitely female. He didn’t recognize it, but then, if she had been someone he knew, her answer would have been different.
“Heh. That’s a nice change.”
“Who wants to kill you?”
“Everyone. Do you know who I am?”
“Who?”
“My name is Eemtir. They call me Eemtir the Evil. Cute alliteration, huh? Are you surprised that you’re harboring the most dangerous villain ever to set foot in Claurd, much less be a hair away from conquering it?”
“No. I knew.”
“Why did you ask, then?”
“I wanted to see what you’d say,” she said, as if the answer was obvious. “I’m Xahare.”
“Why don’t you want to kill me?”
“You lost, you know.”
“Oh, really? I thought my army was destroyed and I was lying half dead in some stranger’s hovel because I’d won.”
“What do you mean to do now?”
“I doubt I’ll have much choice in the matter,” said Eemtir.
“So you’re just going to wait for your death to find you? Give up?”
Eemtir was silent for a while. “I don’t give up. All I ever wanted was not to be powerless. I was nobody, and I raised an army and stormed the castle and conquered most of the country, and even when my army had been defeated I raised another, a…less human army, and when they were defeated in the end, and I was captured and tortured and about to be executed I managed to escape. Even when I was attacked by people who are no different than I once was except that they seized their power by becoming a mob, I survived. So, no, I’m not going to just lie down and die. But that probably only means I’ll die standing up.”
“But what will you do while you’re standing there waiting to be killed? Run away, or run back towards it?”
“I’m not suicidal. If there was any chance at all that I could still win, I’d take it, but….”
There was silence. Eemtir began to feel tired, but just before he began to drift off, Xahare said, “There is a chance.”
Eemtir would have sat bolt upright at the words, if he hadn’t known the movement would make him sit. But his eyes widened. “No, there’s not.”
“There is.” Her voice held no doubt.
“What? How?”
Xahare shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you that easily. Nothing’s free.”
“What’s your price?”
“You said that all of this was because you didn’t want to be powerless. My price is that you swear that you won’t force that on everyone else.”
“Is that all? I promise.”
“If you don’t keep that promise, you’ll regret it. But yes, that’s all.”
“How, then?”
“What you did was overkill. The whole army of demons and all.”
“That was my last resort. It wasn’t overkill, it wasn’t even enough.”
“You didn’t need all that. There are easier ways to power than conquering a country. If you can summon an army of demons--”
“I didn’t summon them. Everyone talks about the demons, but my first army, the ones that fought most of the war, was human. Most of them were as desperate as I was. They died. All of them. The last man summoned the demons in his dying breath.”
“That explains why you didn’t know how to use them better. You should have used them more subtly, for manipulation rather than battle. Doesn’t matter, though. There are other ways to manipulate.”
“Manipulate who, to do what?”
“The king, of course. He’s old, and he doesn’t have any children; he’ll have to name an heir. A little subtlety and patience is all you’d need.”
Eemtir’s renewed hope fled. “That might have worked once, but not now. He’d never do it, and nobody would accept it if he did.”
“That’s where the manipulation comes in, of course.” Xahare smiled. “I’ll take care of that part.”
“How?”
“Your soldier wasn’t the only person in the world who could summon. I’m thinking… demons attack the capital, and you rescue it? That should be enough for the general population, if it’s quite clear you had nothing to do with it. You can even make it seem as if your previous… actions weren’t actually your doing.”
So the capital city was besieged by evil spirits, and the king sent a letter demanding that Eemtir the Evil be captured and killed. The king would have met the demand happily, if he could have. The siege lasted four days, and the people, their king among them, cowered in terror. Then a hero marched into the city and drove away the demons. He bowed humbly before the king and apologized profusely for the grave misunderstandings that had caused him to be labeled evil. He asked only to be allowed to serve the king.
The king, and his people, believed it just a bit more easily than they normally would have. Eemtir served faithfully for nearly a year, until the death of the king. At that point, no one was surprised to learn that he’d been named the heir.
And after he’d been ruling Claurd for a few years, it was generally agreed that he was a far better king than his predecessor ever had been, and it was a shame that he’d been misjudged for a while, but it’d turned out all right in the end, hadn’t it?
“I hadn’t planned on it.” The voice was calm and sensible, low pitched but definitely female. He didn’t recognize it, but then, if she had been someone he knew, her answer would have been different.
“Heh. That’s a nice change.”
“Who wants to kill you?”
“Everyone. Do you know who I am?”
“Who?”
“My name is Eemtir. They call me Eemtir the Evil. Cute alliteration, huh? Are you surprised that you’re harboring the most dangerous villain ever to set foot in Claurd, much less be a hair away from conquering it?”
“No. I knew.”
“Why did you ask, then?”
“I wanted to see what you’d say,” she said, as if the answer was obvious. “I’m Xahare.”
“Why don’t you want to kill me?”
“You lost, you know.”
“Oh, really? I thought my army was destroyed and I was lying half dead in some stranger’s hovel because I’d won.”
“What do you mean to do now?”
“I doubt I’ll have much choice in the matter,” said Eemtir.
“So you’re just going to wait for your death to find you? Give up?”
Eemtir was silent for a while. “I don’t give up. All I ever wanted was not to be powerless. I was nobody, and I raised an army and stormed the castle and conquered most of the country, and even when my army had been defeated I raised another, a…less human army, and when they were defeated in the end, and I was captured and tortured and about to be executed I managed to escape. Even when I was attacked by people who are no different than I once was except that they seized their power by becoming a mob, I survived. So, no, I’m not going to just lie down and die. But that probably only means I’ll die standing up.”
“But what will you do while you’re standing there waiting to be killed? Run away, or run back towards it?”
“I’m not suicidal. If there was any chance at all that I could still win, I’d take it, but….”
There was silence. Eemtir began to feel tired, but just before he began to drift off, Xahare said, “There is a chance.”
Eemtir would have sat bolt upright at the words, if he hadn’t known the movement would make him sit. But his eyes widened. “No, there’s not.”
“There is.” Her voice held no doubt.
“What? How?”
Xahare shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you that easily. Nothing’s free.”
“What’s your price?”
“You said that all of this was because you didn’t want to be powerless. My price is that you swear that you won’t force that on everyone else.”
“Is that all? I promise.”
“If you don’t keep that promise, you’ll regret it. But yes, that’s all.”
“How, then?”
“What you did was overkill. The whole army of demons and all.”
“That was my last resort. It wasn’t overkill, it wasn’t even enough.”
“You didn’t need all that. There are easier ways to power than conquering a country. If you can summon an army of demons--”
“I didn’t summon them. Everyone talks about the demons, but my first army, the ones that fought most of the war, was human. Most of them were as desperate as I was. They died. All of them. The last man summoned the demons in his dying breath.”
“That explains why you didn’t know how to use them better. You should have used them more subtly, for manipulation rather than battle. Doesn’t matter, though. There are other ways to manipulate.”
“Manipulate who, to do what?”
“The king, of course. He’s old, and he doesn’t have any children; he’ll have to name an heir. A little subtlety and patience is all you’d need.”
Eemtir’s renewed hope fled. “That might have worked once, but not now. He’d never do it, and nobody would accept it if he did.”
“That’s where the manipulation comes in, of course.” Xahare smiled. “I’ll take care of that part.”
“How?”
“Your soldier wasn’t the only person in the world who could summon. I’m thinking… demons attack the capital, and you rescue it? That should be enough for the general population, if it’s quite clear you had nothing to do with it. You can even make it seem as if your previous… actions weren’t actually your doing.”
So the capital city was besieged by evil spirits, and the king sent a letter demanding that Eemtir the Evil be captured and killed. The king would have met the demand happily, if he could have. The siege lasted four days, and the people, their king among them, cowered in terror. Then a hero marched into the city and drove away the demons. He bowed humbly before the king and apologized profusely for the grave misunderstandings that had caused him to be labeled evil. He asked only to be allowed to serve the king.
The king, and his people, believed it just a bit more easily than they normally would have. Eemtir served faithfully for nearly a year, until the death of the king. At that point, no one was surprised to learn that he’d been named the heir.
And after he’d been ruling Claurd for a few years, it was generally agreed that he was a far better king than his predecessor ever had been, and it was a shame that he’d been misjudged for a while, but it’d turned out all right in the end, hadn’t it?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Dream Come True
It may or may not have been the middle of the night. It felt like four in the morning, but my cell in the dungeon was deep underground and let in no light, so I couldn’t have known for sure. I was asleep when the door swung open and two guards grabbed me. I screamed, startled. For a moment I had no idea where I was or what was happening, and when I remembered where I was a second later, it was no comfort. I still had no idea what was going on.
Being dragged out of your bed--even if it's a mat in a cell--in what’s probably the middle of the night is terrifying, and I don’t remember clearly where they brought me, until I was dragged through two great doors, into the throne room.
Not the middle of the night, then, my muddled brain told me. The king wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night, would he? And he was there, sitting on his throne on a platform at the end of the hall, looking down at the room. The guards dragged me towards him, and stopped before the throne. “Here’s the prisoner,” one of the guards said, unnecessarily.
“Unhand her,” the king ordered.
“Your majesty, she’s a thief, she’ll just run.”
The king’s voice went cold. “Unhand her,” he ordered. He said to me, in a softer but no less commanding tone, “Don’t try to run.”
“No, majesty.” My voice trembled, and my knees trembled more. It was a miracle I didn’t collapse to the ground when the guards released me.
“Are you Arlica?”
“Y-yes, majesty.”
“I’m King Torenth, I’m sure you know. Arlica, have you heard the rumor that I’m mad?”
“No, sir. Majesty, I mean. I don’t hear much, locked up and all.”
“It’s an old rumor. The truth behind it is that the kings of Durthia are guided by the gods. They send us dreams, and if we are wise, we act on them.”
I wondered whether he was crazy after all, but of course I didn’t say anything.
“You must be wondering what any of this has to do with you. I just had one of the dreams.” He paused. “The gods want me to marry you.”
“What the hell?” I demanded. Of course I knew better than to speak to the king like that, but I was utterly shocked.
“That was my first reaction as well,” King Torenth admitted. “But I’ve never been misguided before, and the dream was… emphatic, and urgent. I would never force you to marry me, but if you agree you’ll be doing a great service to your country, and to me.”
And to myself, I thought. The king didn’t seem like a bad person, whether or not he was crazy, and being a queen would beat being stuck in a prison cell by far. “Yes.”
“We should be married as soon as possible. I think I mentioned the dream seemed urgent. That’s why I had you brought here at this hour, as soon as I woke up from the dream.”
“So it is the middle of the night!” I couldn’t help but say.
Torenth looked at me, probably wondering about my intelligence as much as I was worrying about his sanity. “That’s why it’s dark out.” And there were windows in this room, and it was dark outside, the room only dimly lit by torches.
“I’m used to it; I didn’t notice. When are we going to be married?”
“Is next Tuesday too soon for you? Some of the court ladies will help you arrange for your dress and… I don’t know, whatever else, and my staff will arrange the ceremony.”
“I don’t have any plans.”
Torenth had the guards escort me to an empty suite in the castle, where despite everything I slept soundly. The next week was nonstop preparations.
The wedding was larger than I expected, though I shouldn’t have been surprised, of course people wanted to see their king get married and get a glimpse of the mysterious bride. It was outdoors, so there was plenty of room, and apparently Torenth, or more likely, his staff, had expected such crowds, because there was more than enough food. I didn’t trip as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t fumble over my vows, and the kiss was breathtaking.
I was surprised at how well things were turning out. My only expectations had been that this would be better than the dungeon, but now I began to think that I could actually be happy. I still wasn’t quite sure about a man who would get married based on a dream, but everyone has their quirks.
Nothing in the next few months spoiled my happiness. Though my new position took a lot of getting used to, I liked being queen. Not just being free and having everything I could want, but helping rule a kingdom as well. I liked judging problems and making political decisions. I liked my husband as well. My life was a dream come true, and not just literally.
Torenth and I had been married for three months when I found out for sure that he wasn’t crazy, or even, as I’d thought was probably the case, seeing his inner self in the dreams.
I’d gone to sleep, and then there was a light, very bright but not at all blinding. Everything was very clear, not only clearer than dreams usually are, but clearer than life, even. I sensed a presence, and after trying to observe whatever it was, sensed it pushing me towards something, so I allowed it to. I looked where I was guided, and saw my bedroom. Torenth was asleep. The door swung open and two men came in, then three more, guards who had been stationed outside our room, but I couldn’t see their faces. They were all armed, and very quickly they went to the bed and killed Torenth. And then I could see outside, a dark swirl of fighting and blood and destruction and death. “No!” I screamed.
“No!” I woke screaming, repeating, “No!” But Torenth was next to me, alive, wakened by my screams. “It can’t happen!” Torenth tried to comfort me, but all I could see was the dream. I knew in my mind and my heart that it was no ordinary dream, that it was true, or would be, or maybe, hopefully, would be only if I couldn’t prevent it.
I wondered if you’d have them,” Torenth said after a while.
“What?”
“The dreams. They’re not hereditary, they come to the ruler of Durthia.”
“Can they… be stopped?”
“Sometimes.”
I told him what I saw. We stayed up the rest of the night, discussing how to prevent what I’d seen. Have only the most trusted guards, keep weapons at our bedside…. The best thing, we agreed, would be to find and stop the plot before it got that far.
We kept our eyes peeled for an hint of anything, and we found it. Nothing solid, but there was an ominous undercurrent to the normal rumors and gossip. The chaos I’d seen at the end of the dream would come, if Torenth and I couldn’t prevent it. And we’d have to be alive to prevent it.
We did everything we could, but there really wasn’t much we could do. And then, one night, the dream came again, or rather, the dream light came, and a voice saying urgently, “Go! Now!” and then I was awake.
Though everything seemed as normal, I knew that they were coming, would burst into the room with swords at any moment. Torenth must have had the same dream, because he was also awake and looking around frantically. I grabbed a knife, jumped out of bed, and ran to the darkest corner of the room. Torenth started to do the same, but just as he’d stood up the door burst open and they came in, just as in my dream. Except that in the dream he’d been laying down, so at least something had changed.
Queens don’t usually act as bodyguards for their husbands, but then, most queens don’t grow up fighting in the streets. I pounced, stabbing the man closest to Torenth in the back. Torenth grabbed a weapon and was fighting one, one was still in the doorway, blocked by the others, and the other two went for me. I tried to fight them with my knife, but they both had swords. Desperately, I grabbed for any thing, and came up with a vase that had been on the nightstand. I swung it over the guard’s head. He hadn’t been expecting it and fell to the ground covered in shards of broken pottery. Torenth stabbed at the other one, who spun around, giving me the chance to stab him in the back as well. And that was all of them; Torenth had gotten two while I was busy. We weren’t dead. I couldn’t muster up much more feeling than mild surprise.
“That’s not the end, you know,” I told Torenth.
“You think there’ll be more of them?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But that wasn’t… the main point, I guess. I’m not sure how to say it, but our lives are just… incidental. Not to me, I mean, but… you know what I mean. The whole country’s going to go up in flames, metaphorically and quite possibly physically, unless we can stop it.”
“Then we’ll stop it.”
Being dragged out of your bed--even if it's a mat in a cell--in what’s probably the middle of the night is terrifying, and I don’t remember clearly where they brought me, until I was dragged through two great doors, into the throne room.
Not the middle of the night, then, my muddled brain told me. The king wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night, would he? And he was there, sitting on his throne on a platform at the end of the hall, looking down at the room. The guards dragged me towards him, and stopped before the throne. “Here’s the prisoner,” one of the guards said, unnecessarily.
“Unhand her,” the king ordered.
“Your majesty, she’s a thief, she’ll just run.”
The king’s voice went cold. “Unhand her,” he ordered. He said to me, in a softer but no less commanding tone, “Don’t try to run.”
“No, majesty.” My voice trembled, and my knees trembled more. It was a miracle I didn’t collapse to the ground when the guards released me.
“Are you Arlica?”
“Y-yes, majesty.”
“I’m King Torenth, I’m sure you know. Arlica, have you heard the rumor that I’m mad?”
“No, sir. Majesty, I mean. I don’t hear much, locked up and all.”
“It’s an old rumor. The truth behind it is that the kings of Durthia are guided by the gods. They send us dreams, and if we are wise, we act on them.”
I wondered whether he was crazy after all, but of course I didn’t say anything.
“You must be wondering what any of this has to do with you. I just had one of the dreams.” He paused. “The gods want me to marry you.”
“What the hell?” I demanded. Of course I knew better than to speak to the king like that, but I was utterly shocked.
“That was my first reaction as well,” King Torenth admitted. “But I’ve never been misguided before, and the dream was… emphatic, and urgent. I would never force you to marry me, but if you agree you’ll be doing a great service to your country, and to me.”
And to myself, I thought. The king didn’t seem like a bad person, whether or not he was crazy, and being a queen would beat being stuck in a prison cell by far. “Yes.”
“We should be married as soon as possible. I think I mentioned the dream seemed urgent. That’s why I had you brought here at this hour, as soon as I woke up from the dream.”
“So it is the middle of the night!” I couldn’t help but say.
Torenth looked at me, probably wondering about my intelligence as much as I was worrying about his sanity. “That’s why it’s dark out.” And there were windows in this room, and it was dark outside, the room only dimly lit by torches.
“I’m used to it; I didn’t notice. When are we going to be married?”
“Is next Tuesday too soon for you? Some of the court ladies will help you arrange for your dress and… I don’t know, whatever else, and my staff will arrange the ceremony.”
“I don’t have any plans.”
Torenth had the guards escort me to an empty suite in the castle, where despite everything I slept soundly. The next week was nonstop preparations.
The wedding was larger than I expected, though I shouldn’t have been surprised, of course people wanted to see their king get married and get a glimpse of the mysterious bride. It was outdoors, so there was plenty of room, and apparently Torenth, or more likely, his staff, had expected such crowds, because there was more than enough food. I didn’t trip as I walked down the aisle, I didn’t fumble over my vows, and the kiss was breathtaking.
I was surprised at how well things were turning out. My only expectations had been that this would be better than the dungeon, but now I began to think that I could actually be happy. I still wasn’t quite sure about a man who would get married based on a dream, but everyone has their quirks.
Nothing in the next few months spoiled my happiness. Though my new position took a lot of getting used to, I liked being queen. Not just being free and having everything I could want, but helping rule a kingdom as well. I liked judging problems and making political decisions. I liked my husband as well. My life was a dream come true, and not just literally.
Torenth and I had been married for three months when I found out for sure that he wasn’t crazy, or even, as I’d thought was probably the case, seeing his inner self in the dreams.
I’d gone to sleep, and then there was a light, very bright but not at all blinding. Everything was very clear, not only clearer than dreams usually are, but clearer than life, even. I sensed a presence, and after trying to observe whatever it was, sensed it pushing me towards something, so I allowed it to. I looked where I was guided, and saw my bedroom. Torenth was asleep. The door swung open and two men came in, then three more, guards who had been stationed outside our room, but I couldn’t see their faces. They were all armed, and very quickly they went to the bed and killed Torenth. And then I could see outside, a dark swirl of fighting and blood and destruction and death. “No!” I screamed.
“No!” I woke screaming, repeating, “No!” But Torenth was next to me, alive, wakened by my screams. “It can’t happen!” Torenth tried to comfort me, but all I could see was the dream. I knew in my mind and my heart that it was no ordinary dream, that it was true, or would be, or maybe, hopefully, would be only if I couldn’t prevent it.
I wondered if you’d have them,” Torenth said after a while.
“What?”
“The dreams. They’re not hereditary, they come to the ruler of Durthia.”
“Can they… be stopped?”
“Sometimes.”
I told him what I saw. We stayed up the rest of the night, discussing how to prevent what I’d seen. Have only the most trusted guards, keep weapons at our bedside…. The best thing, we agreed, would be to find and stop the plot before it got that far.
We kept our eyes peeled for an hint of anything, and we found it. Nothing solid, but there was an ominous undercurrent to the normal rumors and gossip. The chaos I’d seen at the end of the dream would come, if Torenth and I couldn’t prevent it. And we’d have to be alive to prevent it.
We did everything we could, but there really wasn’t much we could do. And then, one night, the dream came again, or rather, the dream light came, and a voice saying urgently, “Go! Now!” and then I was awake.
Though everything seemed as normal, I knew that they were coming, would burst into the room with swords at any moment. Torenth must have had the same dream, because he was also awake and looking around frantically. I grabbed a knife, jumped out of bed, and ran to the darkest corner of the room. Torenth started to do the same, but just as he’d stood up the door burst open and they came in, just as in my dream. Except that in the dream he’d been laying down, so at least something had changed.
Queens don’t usually act as bodyguards for their husbands, but then, most queens don’t grow up fighting in the streets. I pounced, stabbing the man closest to Torenth in the back. Torenth grabbed a weapon and was fighting one, one was still in the doorway, blocked by the others, and the other two went for me. I tried to fight them with my knife, but they both had swords. Desperately, I grabbed for any thing, and came up with a vase that had been on the nightstand. I swung it over the guard’s head. He hadn’t been expecting it and fell to the ground covered in shards of broken pottery. Torenth stabbed at the other one, who spun around, giving me the chance to stab him in the back as well. And that was all of them; Torenth had gotten two while I was busy. We weren’t dead. I couldn’t muster up much more feeling than mild surprise.
“That’s not the end, you know,” I told Torenth.
“You think there’ll be more of them?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But that wasn’t… the main point, I guess. I’m not sure how to say it, but our lives are just… incidental. Not to me, I mean, but… you know what I mean. The whole country’s going to go up in flames, metaphorically and quite possibly physically, unless we can stop it.”
“Then we’ll stop it.”
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
A Proper Duel
I don’t know why Annabelle invited her to the tea party at all. I will admit that Lily Fitzmilan dresses fashionably and has impeccable manners, but she is not really a proper lady. So of course I hardly listened to a word she said. However, the phrase, “And so I killed him, of course,” will filter through even the most thorough snubbing, and that is how Miss Fitzmilan concluded her story, in a most brash and boastful tone.
Annabelle and the others were listening to her with rapt attention, so I felt it was my duty to put her in her place. “I don’t believe a word of it.”
Miss Fitmilan’s eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a liar, Miss Wickham?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“I require satisfaction.” Everyone else gasped.
“You want me to duel you? I will do no such thing!” I protested.
“It needn’t be to the death. First blood will be quite enough .”
I sat up as straight as I possibly could and gave her my iciest glare. “Ladies don’t duel.”
She ignored the insult. “If you forfeit, I will of course accept your gracious apology at once.”
Well, I could hardly apologize to her. “I’m not forfeiting. I merely… mean to appoint a champion.”
“Fine. I’ll fight your noble surrogate tomorrow at noon, in the garden. Will that be suitable?”
“Perfectly.”
As soon as the party broke up, I went to find my betrothed. “Lionel,” I told him, “I need you to defend my honor.”
“The way I heard it, it’s the other lady’s honor that’s at stake.”
“She doesn’t have any, and she’s not a lady.”
“Can’t you just apologize, Evelynia?”
“No! Please, Lionel, you have to do this. Surely you don’t want me to have to take up a blade and fight a duel.”
“Fine, fine; I’ll fight the woman.”
So at noon the next day, I stood with bated breath in a small ring around Lionel and Miss Fitzmilan and watched them duel. While I of course don’t know enough about fencing to be able to tell what they were doing besides waving swords around, it quickly became clear even to me that Lionel was losing rather badly. This was not, of course, because he was so unmanly as to be beaten by a woman, but because he was such a gentleman that he had to insist on going easy on her. Of course he never admitted it, and during the fight he had to put on a show of trying his hardest so as not to cause anyone embarrassment--but I know there is no possible way Lily Fitzmilan could be a better fighter than my betrothed.
They hadn’t been dueling for more than five minutes when Miss Fitzmilan swung her blade into my poor Lionel’s arm. This was first blood, and the fight was over. I ran to Lionel and pressed a handkerchief into his wound. “Really, Evelynia, it’s just a nick,” he said, but I know his exasperation was aimed at his wound, not at me. He turned to his opponent. “You’re quite a formidable woman, Miss Fitzmilan,” he told her. I refrained from screaming.
“I believe you owe me an apology,” she told me.
“Of course,” I smiled my sweetest smile. “I’m sorry I called you an ugly, unladylike liar who’s not fit to be seen in polite company. Oh, did I not say those things? Well, if I ever do, I’ve apologized in advance.”
My satisfaction at getting the last word was short-lived, however, for that very night Lionel told me he wished to break off our engagement. “It’s about that b---” I uttered a word unfit for polite company, but I was in quite a state of shock at the time, so I may be excused, “Isn’t it?”
“If you are referring to Miss Fitzmilan, no, it’s not. I have merely come to realize that we are not right for each other, Evelynia.”
It was about Miss Fitzmilan, of course. Not a week later, he danced with her three dances in a row, and would have danced a fourth if she hadn’t refused. Not through any virtue of hers, of course, I’m sure the seductress was only trying to play hard to get. I’m afraid I quite lost my temper and slapped her. She only laughed. “I’d think you were challenging me to another duel, except that you seem to have lost your champion.”
I glared at her, trying to think of a retort, but before I could say anything, Miss Fitzmilan said, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. If it’s any comfort, you’ll be rid of me soon; I’m growing quite bored of society here. I mean to head east.”
It was a great deal of comfort. We will be well rid of her.
Annabelle and the others were listening to her with rapt attention, so I felt it was my duty to put her in her place. “I don’t believe a word of it.”
Miss Fitmilan’s eyes flashed. “Are you calling me a liar, Miss Wickham?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“I require satisfaction.” Everyone else gasped.
“You want me to duel you? I will do no such thing!” I protested.
“It needn’t be to the death. First blood will be quite enough .”
I sat up as straight as I possibly could and gave her my iciest glare. “Ladies don’t duel.”
She ignored the insult. “If you forfeit, I will of course accept your gracious apology at once.”
Well, I could hardly apologize to her. “I’m not forfeiting. I merely… mean to appoint a champion.”
“Fine. I’ll fight your noble surrogate tomorrow at noon, in the garden. Will that be suitable?”
“Perfectly.”
As soon as the party broke up, I went to find my betrothed. “Lionel,” I told him, “I need you to defend my honor.”
“The way I heard it, it’s the other lady’s honor that’s at stake.”
“She doesn’t have any, and she’s not a lady.”
“Can’t you just apologize, Evelynia?”
“No! Please, Lionel, you have to do this. Surely you don’t want me to have to take up a blade and fight a duel.”
“Fine, fine; I’ll fight the woman.”
So at noon the next day, I stood with bated breath in a small ring around Lionel and Miss Fitzmilan and watched them duel. While I of course don’t know enough about fencing to be able to tell what they were doing besides waving swords around, it quickly became clear even to me that Lionel was losing rather badly. This was not, of course, because he was so unmanly as to be beaten by a woman, but because he was such a gentleman that he had to insist on going easy on her. Of course he never admitted it, and during the fight he had to put on a show of trying his hardest so as not to cause anyone embarrassment--but I know there is no possible way Lily Fitzmilan could be a better fighter than my betrothed.
They hadn’t been dueling for more than five minutes when Miss Fitzmilan swung her blade into my poor Lionel’s arm. This was first blood, and the fight was over. I ran to Lionel and pressed a handkerchief into his wound. “Really, Evelynia, it’s just a nick,” he said, but I know his exasperation was aimed at his wound, not at me. He turned to his opponent. “You’re quite a formidable woman, Miss Fitzmilan,” he told her. I refrained from screaming.
“I believe you owe me an apology,” she told me.
“Of course,” I smiled my sweetest smile. “I’m sorry I called you an ugly, unladylike liar who’s not fit to be seen in polite company. Oh, did I not say those things? Well, if I ever do, I’ve apologized in advance.”
My satisfaction at getting the last word was short-lived, however, for that very night Lionel told me he wished to break off our engagement. “It’s about that b---” I uttered a word unfit for polite company, but I was in quite a state of shock at the time, so I may be excused, “Isn’t it?”
“If you are referring to Miss Fitzmilan, no, it’s not. I have merely come to realize that we are not right for each other, Evelynia.”
It was about Miss Fitzmilan, of course. Not a week later, he danced with her three dances in a row, and would have danced a fourth if she hadn’t refused. Not through any virtue of hers, of course, I’m sure the seductress was only trying to play hard to get. I’m afraid I quite lost my temper and slapped her. She only laughed. “I’d think you were challenging me to another duel, except that you seem to have lost your champion.”
I glared at her, trying to think of a retort, but before I could say anything, Miss Fitzmilan said, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. If it’s any comfort, you’ll be rid of me soon; I’m growing quite bored of society here. I mean to head east.”
It was a great deal of comfort. We will be well rid of her.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Witchcraft
Usually, I stay in my little house deep in the woods, alone with my books and my cats and the herbs I gather in the forest. But every once in a while, I forget that I don’t like people very much, and that’s when the trouble begins.
It started out, this time, with a boy--he would have called himself a young man, but he was a boy--found half dead in the forest and brought to my home. This happens occasionally; the forest is a dangerous place for adventurers and poachers and other fools who don’t know what they’re doing. Usually it’s alright. I fix them up, let them stay until they’re better, or I can’t stand them anymore, and send them on their way to continue poaching or adventuring, or, if they have any sense, to go home.
Jakon was more sensible than most, and also worse off than most. As a result, he stayed in my cottage for a while. He never told me what he’d been doing in the forest, and I never asked. Our conversations consisted of me telling him to drink this or lie still while I set a bone or changed a bandage. The only somewhat social interaction I had with him was when he asked what I was reading and I showed him the cover of the book. What can I say, I’m not really a people-person. Jakon was okay, though. He didn’t yatter nonstop and he liked my cats. He recovered better than I would have expected, though he had a limp. He understood that it was something of a miracle, that he’d recovered as well as he had, and was duly grateful. So he went home, and my life continued as normal. For a few months, at least.
And then there was a knock at my door. I ignored it. The knocking continued, and I continued to ignore it. But a few hours later, I opened the door to go outside, and nearly tripped over Jakon, who was sitting on my doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Vayran, I need your help.” Even when he’d been at death’s door, he’d never sounded so desperate. I should have known better than to get involved.
But I have to admit, I was rather fond of the boy, so I didn’t tell him to go to hell. At first, I was just going to hear his story before sending him away. But somehow, that wasn’t how it worked out.
“It’s Celidh. My sister. She’s been accused of witchcraft.”
“Why did you come to me? What do you think I can do?”
Jakon looked away. “You’re the only one there is.”
“Is there a reason she’s accused of witchcraft?”
“No, they’re accusing everyone. Doesn’t make her any less likely to die, though.”
Great, I thought. Not only am I considering going into an area occupied by crowds of people, but it’s one in which there’s a witch scare. I knew I was a fool for even considering it. If anyone would be though to be a witch, it was me.
As you may have guessed, I went.
The town was far enough that had I stayed home, I wouldn’t have been sought out; the journey long enough to give me time to regret my decision. With every step I took I berated myself for my idiocy, but I didn’t turn back.
I’d thought to do a simple jailbreak, but when we arrived in the town, a small crowd was gathered around a fountain. At the fountain, two men appeared to be trying to drown a girl. By Jakon’s expression, I could tell it was his sister.
“Hey!” I yelled. People turned to stare at me. I had some vague idea in mind of either convincing the people what idiots they were--that never works, and I usually know it-- or creating a distraction. What happened was that, when everyone had turned to look at me, someone cried, “Witch!” and everyone took up the cry.
As I said, trying to convince people how stupid they are never works, but I was angry, so I wasn‘t being particularly sensible. “You’re fools,” I screamed. “If I was a witch, do you really think you’d be able to do anything against me? You’re farmers.”
“Get her!” someone screamed, and they rushed towards me. I like people even less than I normally do when they’ve formed into a mob, and even less than that when the mob is trying to grab me.
So I was too angry to think straight, and I called up as much force as I could muster and shoved it around. I’m not really a very murderous person, so nothing happened to the mob, but all the buildings in the town began to go up in flames.
The people stared at me. I don’t know why they were so surprised; they’d known I was a witch, hadn’t they?
I don’t know whether they would have came after me as they’d planned or backed away in horror, but they didn’t get the chance to do either. In the distraction, Jakon had managed to sneak up to the fountain and grab Ceilidh. The three of us ran. Not fast, Jakon couldn’t with his limp, and Kelia was still half-drowned, but we ran. I didn’t even stop to put out the flames. Let them have something more to deal with than torturing innocent people.
Jakon and Ceilidh stayed with me for a few weeks, long enough to be sure no one was coming after us, before leaving to find a new home. Ceilidh came back a few days later. Jakon had gotten a job as a printer--apparently that was what he did, though why a printer had gotten half-killed wandering in the woods I have no idea--and it payed enough for him to rent a small house, and Ceilidh could have stayed with him for a while…. But what she really wanted was to learn magic, and wouldn’t I please teach her?
I told her I’d think about it, and after doing so, against my better judgment, agreed. So I went back to my peaceful--if somewhat less solitary--life. Somewhat less peaceful, now that I think about it, what with Ceilidh accidentally blowing things up and such, but I did the same, when I was first learning, and at least no angry mobs are involved.
It started out, this time, with a boy--he would have called himself a young man, but he was a boy--found half dead in the forest and brought to my home. This happens occasionally; the forest is a dangerous place for adventurers and poachers and other fools who don’t know what they’re doing. Usually it’s alright. I fix them up, let them stay until they’re better, or I can’t stand them anymore, and send them on their way to continue poaching or adventuring, or, if they have any sense, to go home.
Jakon was more sensible than most, and also worse off than most. As a result, he stayed in my cottage for a while. He never told me what he’d been doing in the forest, and I never asked. Our conversations consisted of me telling him to drink this or lie still while I set a bone or changed a bandage. The only somewhat social interaction I had with him was when he asked what I was reading and I showed him the cover of the book. What can I say, I’m not really a people-person. Jakon was okay, though. He didn’t yatter nonstop and he liked my cats. He recovered better than I would have expected, though he had a limp. He understood that it was something of a miracle, that he’d recovered as well as he had, and was duly grateful. So he went home, and my life continued as normal. For a few months, at least.
And then there was a knock at my door. I ignored it. The knocking continued, and I continued to ignore it. But a few hours later, I opened the door to go outside, and nearly tripped over Jakon, who was sitting on my doorstep.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Vayran, I need your help.” Even when he’d been at death’s door, he’d never sounded so desperate. I should have known better than to get involved.
But I have to admit, I was rather fond of the boy, so I didn’t tell him to go to hell. At first, I was just going to hear his story before sending him away. But somehow, that wasn’t how it worked out.
“It’s Celidh. My sister. She’s been accused of witchcraft.”
“Why did you come to me? What do you think I can do?”
Jakon looked away. “You’re the only one there is.”
“Is there a reason she’s accused of witchcraft?”
“No, they’re accusing everyone. Doesn’t make her any less likely to die, though.”
Great, I thought. Not only am I considering going into an area occupied by crowds of people, but it’s one in which there’s a witch scare. I knew I was a fool for even considering it. If anyone would be though to be a witch, it was me.
As you may have guessed, I went.
The town was far enough that had I stayed home, I wouldn’t have been sought out; the journey long enough to give me time to regret my decision. With every step I took I berated myself for my idiocy, but I didn’t turn back.
I’d thought to do a simple jailbreak, but when we arrived in the town, a small crowd was gathered around a fountain. At the fountain, two men appeared to be trying to drown a girl. By Jakon’s expression, I could tell it was his sister.
“Hey!” I yelled. People turned to stare at me. I had some vague idea in mind of either convincing the people what idiots they were--that never works, and I usually know it-- or creating a distraction. What happened was that, when everyone had turned to look at me, someone cried, “Witch!” and everyone took up the cry.
As I said, trying to convince people how stupid they are never works, but I was angry, so I wasn‘t being particularly sensible. “You’re fools,” I screamed. “If I was a witch, do you really think you’d be able to do anything against me? You’re farmers.”
“Get her!” someone screamed, and they rushed towards me. I like people even less than I normally do when they’ve formed into a mob, and even less than that when the mob is trying to grab me.
So I was too angry to think straight, and I called up as much force as I could muster and shoved it around. I’m not really a very murderous person, so nothing happened to the mob, but all the buildings in the town began to go up in flames.
The people stared at me. I don’t know why they were so surprised; they’d known I was a witch, hadn’t they?
I don’t know whether they would have came after me as they’d planned or backed away in horror, but they didn’t get the chance to do either. In the distraction, Jakon had managed to sneak up to the fountain and grab Ceilidh. The three of us ran. Not fast, Jakon couldn’t with his limp, and Kelia was still half-drowned, but we ran. I didn’t even stop to put out the flames. Let them have something more to deal with than torturing innocent people.
Jakon and Ceilidh stayed with me for a few weeks, long enough to be sure no one was coming after us, before leaving to find a new home. Ceilidh came back a few days later. Jakon had gotten a job as a printer--apparently that was what he did, though why a printer had gotten half-killed wandering in the woods I have no idea--and it payed enough for him to rent a small house, and Ceilidh could have stayed with him for a while…. But what she really wanted was to learn magic, and wouldn’t I please teach her?
I told her I’d think about it, and after doing so, against my better judgment, agreed. So I went back to my peaceful--if somewhat less solitary--life. Somewhat less peaceful, now that I think about it, what with Ceilidh accidentally blowing things up and such, but I did the same, when I was first learning, and at least no angry mobs are involved.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
The Sunrise Is A Miracle
Though I sit alone in the cell, waiting for the sun to rise, I can close my eyes and see that elsewhere, everyone is doing the same. The crowds of people in streets and on rooftops; the mother sitting at the foot of her child’s bed, staring out the window, barely daring to hope; even the cynics who shut their curtains and light their rooms brighter than day and pretend to believe everything is normal, who would never admit they peak out, and lose a piece of hope each time they see only darkness.
Is the world going to end? It would be easier, perhaps, if we knew it would. Then we--well, those who are not imprisoned, at least, could eat their favorite meals and hug their families close and live the world’s last moments the way they chose. But perhaps the world won’t end, but endure under the clouds of hopelessness and the eternal darkness. Or maybe, and this is the only real hope, it’s a lie. Maybe the sun will rise after all, and though nothing will be the same, living ruled by the essence of evil, at least, well, life will go on.
Nobody knows, because this has never happened before. Evil is always defeated. I don’t mean bad people, tyrants and sorcerers. But this…. In the epic battle between good and evil, good must prevail. Pure evil, as a force itself, has to be defeated. But it wasn’t. We failed. I failed.
I close my eyes for only a moment, not wanting to take them from the eastern horizon for long. The moment is enough; there’s not much to see. Tani and Raida and Zes sit in cells just like mine, peering through tiny barred windows just as I am. Tani’s wound is no longer bleeding, I’m glad to see, and Raida is holding together better than I would have thought after the loss of the man she loved. Zes’s window faces west, and I know it must be hard for him, knowing that he won’t even be able to see whether the sun rises at first. I linger on him longer than I should. His hands grip the bars on the window and he murmurs so softly I can barely hear, “Haeril.” At hearing my name I can tell he loves me as much as I love him, but it brings me no joy. It’s too late for that now. We’ll never see each other again, and even if we do…. There’s no room for love in a world ruled by evil.
I turn my attention back to the sky. Stars are out, that must mean something. I can hear the desperation in my thoughts. All it means is that there’s not a cloud in the sky, so if the sun doesn’t rise, there are no excuses.
It is dark. It is dark. It continues to be dark.
For distraction, I turn my gaze on the strangers sharing this vigil. People stand on rooftops, the better to see the horizon, but also to jump if dawn does not come. Their deaths will be on me, on us. It was up to us, the five of us, to defeat the evil. We were the best; we should have been able to. Now one of us is dead, one injured, and all who are alive imprisoned. We tried our best, did everything we possibly could and then some, and we failed. I blame myself, of course, but I’m sure Raida and Tani and Zes each blame themselves. It doesn’t matter. When the world ends, it doesn’t matter whose fault it was.
I close my eyes and look at burned remnants of my home, at the meadow I played in as a child, at a lake surrounded by mountains that I’ve never seen in person, and then at Zes again. I wish I could tell him I love him, even if it is too late. I want to be with him and tell him it’s not his fault, and hear him tell me it’s not mine.
I open my eyes again. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m seeing. The sky has begun to lighten. I stare, transfixed, as it turns pink and rays of light break over the horizon, and slowly, slowly, the sun begins to rise.
It’s halfway up, a glowing ball of hope framed against a pink and orange sky, when I hear a sound behind me. I can barely draw myself away from the sight to turn and look. To my shock, the door of my cell opens, and Raida is standing there.
“It’s not over,” she says, and I’m shocked to realize she’s right. We haven’t lost yet after all.
“How…?”
“A guard came in my cell with breakfast. I knocked him out.” She holds up a ring of keys, studies them, and hands me one. “Go get Zes; I’ll get Tani. We’ll meet at the stairs.” She rushes off.
Zes is staring out his window when I arrive. The cell door scrapes the floor as it opens, and Zes turns at the noise. He stares at me. “Haeril.” He jumps to his feet and we rush to each other. I don’t know if I kiss him, or he kisses me, but we stand in the middle of the prison cell, kissing. Finally, we pull away. “I love you,” Zes tells me.
“I love you too. Let’s go save the world.”
Is the world going to end? It would be easier, perhaps, if we knew it would. Then we--well, those who are not imprisoned, at least, could eat their favorite meals and hug their families close and live the world’s last moments the way they chose. But perhaps the world won’t end, but endure under the clouds of hopelessness and the eternal darkness. Or maybe, and this is the only real hope, it’s a lie. Maybe the sun will rise after all, and though nothing will be the same, living ruled by the essence of evil, at least, well, life will go on.
Nobody knows, because this has never happened before. Evil is always defeated. I don’t mean bad people, tyrants and sorcerers. But this…. In the epic battle between good and evil, good must prevail. Pure evil, as a force itself, has to be defeated. But it wasn’t. We failed. I failed.
I close my eyes for only a moment, not wanting to take them from the eastern horizon for long. The moment is enough; there’s not much to see. Tani and Raida and Zes sit in cells just like mine, peering through tiny barred windows just as I am. Tani’s wound is no longer bleeding, I’m glad to see, and Raida is holding together better than I would have thought after the loss of the man she loved. Zes’s window faces west, and I know it must be hard for him, knowing that he won’t even be able to see whether the sun rises at first. I linger on him longer than I should. His hands grip the bars on the window and he murmurs so softly I can barely hear, “Haeril.” At hearing my name I can tell he loves me as much as I love him, but it brings me no joy. It’s too late for that now. We’ll never see each other again, and even if we do…. There’s no room for love in a world ruled by evil.
I turn my attention back to the sky. Stars are out, that must mean something. I can hear the desperation in my thoughts. All it means is that there’s not a cloud in the sky, so if the sun doesn’t rise, there are no excuses.
It is dark. It is dark. It continues to be dark.
For distraction, I turn my gaze on the strangers sharing this vigil. People stand on rooftops, the better to see the horizon, but also to jump if dawn does not come. Their deaths will be on me, on us. It was up to us, the five of us, to defeat the evil. We were the best; we should have been able to. Now one of us is dead, one injured, and all who are alive imprisoned. We tried our best, did everything we possibly could and then some, and we failed. I blame myself, of course, but I’m sure Raida and Tani and Zes each blame themselves. It doesn’t matter. When the world ends, it doesn’t matter whose fault it was.
I close my eyes and look at burned remnants of my home, at the meadow I played in as a child, at a lake surrounded by mountains that I’ve never seen in person, and then at Zes again. I wish I could tell him I love him, even if it is too late. I want to be with him and tell him it’s not his fault, and hear him tell me it’s not mine.
I open my eyes again. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m seeing. The sky has begun to lighten. I stare, transfixed, as it turns pink and rays of light break over the horizon, and slowly, slowly, the sun begins to rise.
It’s halfway up, a glowing ball of hope framed against a pink and orange sky, when I hear a sound behind me. I can barely draw myself away from the sight to turn and look. To my shock, the door of my cell opens, and Raida is standing there.
“It’s not over,” she says, and I’m shocked to realize she’s right. We haven’t lost yet after all.
“How…?”
“A guard came in my cell with breakfast. I knocked him out.” She holds up a ring of keys, studies them, and hands me one. “Go get Zes; I’ll get Tani. We’ll meet at the stairs.” She rushes off.
Zes is staring out his window when I arrive. The cell door scrapes the floor as it opens, and Zes turns at the noise. He stares at me. “Haeril.” He jumps to his feet and we rush to each other. I don’t know if I kiss him, or he kisses me, but we stand in the middle of the prison cell, kissing. Finally, we pull away. “I love you,” Zes tells me.
“I love you too. Let’s go save the world.”
Thursday, September 24, 2009
My Feet Have Never Touched the Ground
I was born in a tree, I’ve lived my entire life in the trees, and I always expected I would die in a tree as well. Back when I was young you could look out above the canopy and see nothing but an ocean of treetops, all the way to the horizon. Those days are long gone, of course. Nowadays, those of us that are left are squished into living in the little patch of forest that’s left. Once you get past the homes on the outer edges, you can see the edge of the trees. And beneath--nothing. Dirt and cows don’t count.
Though I personally have never climbed down to the ground, plenty of us have. I just never had the inclination. This is the most beautiful place in the world; nothing could be better, so why would I ever want to leave it? We have everything we need up here--food, shelter--don’t think we just sleep on branches, we have homes, or did, before the trees supporting them were felled, clothing, medicine, entertainment, and of course, anything we don’t have--metal and such--can always be brought up.
Even most of us who do leave the trees agree that it’s much better up here. The first time people I knew went was when I was a teenager, and a few of my friends went for a short vacation. They tried to convince me to come, but I wouldn’t, and when they returned, they told me I hadn’t missed out on much. Sure, it was different, and there were some interesting things, like how the ground doesn’t move at all beneath your feet--but there general conclusion was that though it might be an okay place to visit, you wouldn’t want to live there.
It was my sister, Maerilla, who said that. She lives down there now, married to some farmer who bought land that was once part of the forest. She says its all for the best, for her, since if she hadn’t been driven down she’d never have met the love of her life and given birth to her three beautiful children. I say that if they really were fated to be together, he could have climbed up here. Nothing, nothing is worth this destruction.
We didn’t even notice, at first. When the forest is so thick you can walk across the canopy, what’s a few trees here and there? Then it wasn’t a few trees, but it was still far off, the edge of the forest. It was only the edge of our world that was crumbling. The edge moved inwards. And it will continue to move inwards, and even the tiny remnant of my home will be gone.
The people below tell us to just come down. They say they’re being reasonable, that they’ll give us land, or pay us a portion of the filthy blood money they get from their damned lumber. Many of us, I’m sad to say, have. And I expect most of the rest will, eventually. Or all of us, even--if the trees are brought down, we will be brought down with them.
I think most of the people will leave, before that point. I won’t. I will stay here until I am clinging to the branches of the very last tree, and when the tree falls, I will still be in it. Perhaps they will think my death unfortunate. Perhaps they won’t care. I will be dead, it will hardly matter to me.
Maerilla comes up to visit me. She tells me that I will of course be welcome to live with her, that they have an extra room. She says they are planting an orchard. I just barely resist pushing her down to the ground. An orchard. “Why the hell do you need an orchard?” I demand, screaming. “There are already real trees right here!”
“But they’re not fruit trees; they’re not profitable,” she fumbles to explain.
“If they’re not fruit trees, then what did you eat for the twenty-four years you lived in them?” I lower my voice and try to be reasonable. “Look, Maerilla, the edge of the forest borders your home. You could stop this; just buy a little more of the land and use the trees that are already growing as your orchard.”
“I’ll talk to Doyn about it,” Maerilla promises, and I know that’s the most she’ll agree to.
She leaves, and I sit there imagining the conversation. “I know she’s crazy, but she’s my sister, and it’s important to her,” Maerilla says. I don’t know Doyn well enough to guess his reply, but I know enough about people to know it will be negative.
So I’m not surprised when, the next time Maerilla visits me, she tells me it’s not going to happen. And since by this point, there’s only me and a few other families still up here, I’m not any more surprised at the news that what’s left of the forest is to be razed. “I love you,” I tell Maerilla, and cry, because I don’t actually want to die.
“Why can’t you just come live with us?” Maerilla begs. “You’ve never even been there; you can’t know you won’t like it!”
But I do, so I prepare to die with my home.
And I would have, if I hadn’t came up with the plan. It’s less than a week before the inferno, and of the few of us left up here, I‘m the only one who doesn‘t plan to leave. Maerilla comes up one last time to plead with me, and that’s when I see it.
“Buy the land,” I tell her, “And I’ll work for you until it’s paid back.”
She doesn’t think much of the idea, but she knows it’s the only possibility of preventing my death, so she goes home excitedly, and comes back the next day waving a land deed. The agreement is, I owe them five years work, or the equivalent in money, and then the deed will be transferred to me and I’m free to return to the trees.
So, for the first time ever, I climb down. It’s as horrible as I expected, life on the ground--no, worse. But I keep up my part of the deal, working the miserable dirt, sustained only by the knowledge that at least a bit of my forest is still there, and I will return to it.
Though I personally have never climbed down to the ground, plenty of us have. I just never had the inclination. This is the most beautiful place in the world; nothing could be better, so why would I ever want to leave it? We have everything we need up here--food, shelter--don’t think we just sleep on branches, we have homes, or did, before the trees supporting them were felled, clothing, medicine, entertainment, and of course, anything we don’t have--metal and such--can always be brought up.
Even most of us who do leave the trees agree that it’s much better up here. The first time people I knew went was when I was a teenager, and a few of my friends went for a short vacation. They tried to convince me to come, but I wouldn’t, and when they returned, they told me I hadn’t missed out on much. Sure, it was different, and there were some interesting things, like how the ground doesn’t move at all beneath your feet--but there general conclusion was that though it might be an okay place to visit, you wouldn’t want to live there.
It was my sister, Maerilla, who said that. She lives down there now, married to some farmer who bought land that was once part of the forest. She says its all for the best, for her, since if she hadn’t been driven down she’d never have met the love of her life and given birth to her three beautiful children. I say that if they really were fated to be together, he could have climbed up here. Nothing, nothing is worth this destruction.
We didn’t even notice, at first. When the forest is so thick you can walk across the canopy, what’s a few trees here and there? Then it wasn’t a few trees, but it was still far off, the edge of the forest. It was only the edge of our world that was crumbling. The edge moved inwards. And it will continue to move inwards, and even the tiny remnant of my home will be gone.
The people below tell us to just come down. They say they’re being reasonable, that they’ll give us land, or pay us a portion of the filthy blood money they get from their damned lumber. Many of us, I’m sad to say, have. And I expect most of the rest will, eventually. Or all of us, even--if the trees are brought down, we will be brought down with them.
I think most of the people will leave, before that point. I won’t. I will stay here until I am clinging to the branches of the very last tree, and when the tree falls, I will still be in it. Perhaps they will think my death unfortunate. Perhaps they won’t care. I will be dead, it will hardly matter to me.
Maerilla comes up to visit me. She tells me that I will of course be welcome to live with her, that they have an extra room. She says they are planting an orchard. I just barely resist pushing her down to the ground. An orchard. “Why the hell do you need an orchard?” I demand, screaming. “There are already real trees right here!”
“But they’re not fruit trees; they’re not profitable,” she fumbles to explain.
“If they’re not fruit trees, then what did you eat for the twenty-four years you lived in them?” I lower my voice and try to be reasonable. “Look, Maerilla, the edge of the forest borders your home. You could stop this; just buy a little more of the land and use the trees that are already growing as your orchard.”
“I’ll talk to Doyn about it,” Maerilla promises, and I know that’s the most she’ll agree to.
She leaves, and I sit there imagining the conversation. “I know she’s crazy, but she’s my sister, and it’s important to her,” Maerilla says. I don’t know Doyn well enough to guess his reply, but I know enough about people to know it will be negative.
So I’m not surprised when, the next time Maerilla visits me, she tells me it’s not going to happen. And since by this point, there’s only me and a few other families still up here, I’m not any more surprised at the news that what’s left of the forest is to be razed. “I love you,” I tell Maerilla, and cry, because I don’t actually want to die.
“Why can’t you just come live with us?” Maerilla begs. “You’ve never even been there; you can’t know you won’t like it!”
But I do, so I prepare to die with my home.
And I would have, if I hadn’t came up with the plan. It’s less than a week before the inferno, and of the few of us left up here, I‘m the only one who doesn‘t plan to leave. Maerilla comes up one last time to plead with me, and that’s when I see it.
“Buy the land,” I tell her, “And I’ll work for you until it’s paid back.”
She doesn’t think much of the idea, but she knows it’s the only possibility of preventing my death, so she goes home excitedly, and comes back the next day waving a land deed. The agreement is, I owe them five years work, or the equivalent in money, and then the deed will be transferred to me and I’m free to return to the trees.
So, for the first time ever, I climb down. It’s as horrible as I expected, life on the ground--no, worse. But I keep up my part of the deal, working the miserable dirt, sustained only by the knowledge that at least a bit of my forest is still there, and I will return to it.
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