Chapter Fourteen
Kamilé’s tiny, erratic footsteps searched blindly through the undergrowth, clumsily stirring the leaves, tripping her with every tiny rise or fall in the ground. Her entire body ached and throbbed and burned, so badly that she would have screamed as loudly as she could during the time it would take her to collapse on the ground. But she wasn’t able to feel it. The part of her mind that told her how badly hurt she was, through the wordless yet irrefutably clear message of agony, was numb, out of focus, sleeping. So, she found the strength to go on.
She did not know that she had been unconscious, lying in the clearing by the dirty pond, for more than three days. She did not know that if all but four people saw her, she could be seriously hurt, even more so than she already was. She did not know that her city was gone, burned and washed away by the gray rain now pouring down her back, and she did not know that she was believed to be the one to blame for it. She did not know that she needed water or food; she did not know what was necessary to survive. She did not know that she was an orphan, alone, abandoned, unloved. She did not know that her twin brother was dead.
But she did know that she had lost someone, a person that was as much a part of her as her arms or legs or beating heart, and she knew that, because of this, the world was a bleak, unhappy, and terrible place.
Her feet guided her to somewhere she would not have found otherwise, a place she had forgotten completely. It was as if some unconscious compass was pointing in this direction, one that she must follow—or as if a trail of sweet, silver memories, an infinitesimally short lifetime’s worth of them, was hovering before her eyes, sparkling and dancing beautifully to the sound of tinkling music, light and airy feeling like water floating in the air, It even smelled wonderful…she could smell it, clean and fresh and sharp like spring’s first carpet of dew, and she never wondered how she could smell anything with a broken, bloody nose. It was both, a compass pointing to the trail, like her sweet, lost somebody had been here and was leading her home.
And home was exactly where it took her.
She had no way of recognizing the tree that her house lay within, or remembering the pattern of the branches, climbed almost every day for five years, or knowing where she was and why. But the silver trail, existing only in her mind, wound around the tree like an invitingly beautiful, warm, loving snake, and she wanted to follow it so badly that she began to climb the tree with no idea of what she had undertaken.
She only noticed after the first few branches that her left arm wasn’t working properly—it was oddly colored, blue, black, white, red, and dangled there, no matter how she tried to make it help her. All it could do was swing back and forth, a sort of pendulum to help her balance, though mostly it just felt too heavy to carry. She would have gladly torn it off and thrown it aside, but she didn’t have another one…maybe it would work later?
Whatever it chose to do, she couldn’t stay here…she had to follow the trail, the needle of the compass. So, ignoring her useless arm, she did the best she could without it. Her foggy, numb brain found it difficult to focus, and it would have been hard for her even without her injuries…however, even when her body didn’t do exactly like she thought it would, or when she was three fingers away from falling to her death, she kept going. Not from any sort of fierce determination…it was the only thing in her mind, echoing again and again in the soft black swirls.
Her sense of time was sleeping and frozen with much more of her mind, so she didn’t know how long it took her to reach her home—once a five-minute journey, this time it took her from an hour after dawn to midday. In all that time, she never thought of anything else; she never felt pain or hunger or thirst or utter exhaustion as she should have, never once thought of stopping or quitting, never imagined doing anything else but following the silver trail until it finally led her into her house.
The minute she saw it, her wide eyes focused for the first time, and she sucked in a hoarse, shuddering breath.
Nothing of their house had changed since they had left it, in the final hours of four days ago, and Kamilé might have known that if she was in any condition to. She also might have known that this eerie, insubstantial feeling attacking her in one endless wave after another was not the norm of journeying home, but she didn’t realize this—that the blurred images and shapes, distant, fragmented memories, were not real, only hallucinations and hidden feelings and senses taking advantage of her blank, frozen mind.
She saw him everywhere—a dozen different images of the same person, a boy her age, her size, with her appearance, going everywhere around the little house. She saw him carefully plucking a book from the shelf, dropping a drop of honey water into the glowing lantern full of fireflies, shaking something buried in the blankets, gazing out the window, sleeping peacefully, even walking right past her to leave the treehouse, and when she turned, she saw the misty, blurred ghost image with bright silver eyes dropping from branch to branch on his way down. It was as if the place itself was telling her about him, what he did, how he felt about doing it, what he was like.
And it was far too much for poor Kamilé to handle.
Here was a person she hardly remembered but adored with all her broken heart, a huge part of his entire life forced into her mind all at once. All the little aspects of his personality infused themselves in her, flashing in her mind’s eye again and again and again, swirling around, confused and jumbled but full of things she did not know of, happiness and safety and comfort and affection. And yet, when she looked around, he was not there. He was dead. All this meant nothing now…he was none of this anymore.
Her vision blurred, the image of the tiny, cluttered treehouse combining and overlapping with the ones swirling in her head, and she let out a cry of pain and confusion and loneliness before she fell to the floor, her breath leaving her in deep, wrenching sobs.
The wound was wide, gaping, bleeding and torn, as if half her body had been brutally ripped away. Every tiny particle inside her had been halved, separated, torn apart, and each one pulsed its sadness into a long, heartbroken scream that slashed at her sore throat and made her head spin. She couldn’t breathe, she was screaming so loudly, but there was no way to stop…if she stopped, the pain would stay inside and tear what was left of her to pieces.
He had been
more than her brother,
more than her best friend…he was both, and her twin, and the one thing in her aimless, lonely life that had been there for as long as either of them could remember. Everything else had moved, and changed, and left. The world had proved itself millions of times to be harsh, cruel, and spitefully exclusive, with one exception, and now he was gone forever, to a place she could not go.
She wished with all her heart that she could follow him, that she could be next to him, that she could stop feeling the pain of his absence and just rest for awhile…she could do that if he was here…he used to…used to read her stories, tuck her in…keep her warm…chase away nightmares with his mere presence…and then in the morning they would play games…and laugh, and swim…and…and she would feel…feel like she belonged…somewhere…belonged right beside him…
She stretched out in her own doorway, sobbing and shaking with misery and haunting memories, and with fear…she knew what fear was. It was the sensation she felt when her heart froze over and her breaths came fast and her head was stripped of rational thought…fear…she felt afraid…he did too…because…of…her….
A sudden, violent anger took a hold on her, rage and fury mixed with pain and frustration and heartache, and, unable to keep still, she sat up and dragged her body to its feet, glaring at the treehouse with red-hazed hatred. How dare it mock her with its memories, how dare it put Everan anywhere but in her heart, how dare it exist when everything they had ever had was gone, when the two souls that made it were ripped apart…
She suddenly felt a strong, restless urge to tear this hated place apart, splinter by splinter and leaf by leaf, and though she didn’t have the strength to do it, she could sure as hell try.
The walls were resistant to her; she flung herself at them and pounded and scratched to no avail. Furious, she kicked hard at the firefly lantern and shattered it on the opposite wall. The fireflies escaped at once, flashing out of the glassless window before she could outpour her wrath and grief at them. A few shells fell to the ground with the thousands of shards of glass and shattered as well; this was satisfying, so in a single, furious motion she knocked her entire collection of shells, feathers, stones, and dried flowers to the ground, scattering them everywhere with a vicious kick. A charcoal stick hit the wall hard, leaving an ugly black scar on the wood.
There was something digging in her leg, and she impatiently thrust a hand in her boot to dig it out—her hand met the smooth handle of Everan’s dagger. All the times Everan had told her not to touch it rang in her mind, and her hand clenched over the hilt. She slashed with it so wildly that she cut herself on the arm, but didn’t care—it caught a small stack of parchment sheets, stored in a cool, dry corner, and sent them flying with a satisfying
rrrrraaaaaap. She slashed again and caught the corner of the bookshelf, wrenched it out again, and then turned to the only part of the treehouse she had yet to pulverize.
Everan’s books.
But something stayed her hand. She stared at them for a long time, remembering with rapid, painful stabs how many times Everan had read each of them, how often he spent with a book in his hand, how many amazing stories he had told her from them. Everan had loved these. She couldn’t destroy them…she didn’t even feel worthy to touch them.
Frustration building, she screamed something unintelligible and flung the knife away from her. It drove itself into the wall and stuck there, quivering fearfully, as was she. Her anger and violence had left as suddenly as it had come, and suddenly, she felt tired, weary, and sad. She found herself on the ground—her legs had crumpled beneath her long since—and sunk even lower, crying on the floor regardless of sharp fragments of shell and glass driving into her arms, legs, and forehead.
Everything she had ever cared about was gone now…everything from her fireflies to her city to her home to her brother. Everyone had abandoned her, she had nothing left. What was she supposed to do now? How could she possibly survive without Everan, and why would she want to?
Her entire body was throbbing, aching, burning, and she sobbed with pain now along with grief and loneliness. Everan could have made it better…Everan could have fixed everything…why would anyone want to take him away from her? Didn’t they know that she couldn’t live without him, never had?
Her fingers, clenching in anguish, brushed something hard, with an odd consistency. She looked up and saw a blurred black shape—a charcoal stick, the only one that wasn’t broken from her rampage. She took it in her right hand and forced herself to sit up, turning it over in her fingers. The parchment sheets everywhere had been cut to a specific length by Everan ages ago, just the right size for drawing, he said. He was very good at drawing, and liked it a lot. All of his drawings were kept in between the flaps of an old, broken book, given to him by Kayle, and had been untouched by her fury. He would never draw anything again…
Tears redoubled, Kamilé pulled a parchment sheet over to her and started to draw.
For a long, long time, she sat on the floor and covered sheet after sheet with her clumsy drawings. Her mind entered a sort of detached concentration, where the pain of the memories couldn’t hurt her anymore; it was redirected into the stick, and then into the paper, and her every fear, every sadness, her entire life began to take shape in her pictures. Of the many that she finished and put aside, all were covered in tears, some so badly smeared that even she didn’t know what it was when she was done. She kept her concentration on the paper, paying no attention to the disturbing things taking shape there.
They littered the floor around her, drawings of anything she was thinking about—two purposely and spitefully tiny children sitting on a root; swimming; playing Chosen or Chase or fighting; watching other children play without them; sleeping in a bed with pillows bigger than they were. Then there were some that were more purposeful, more serious—Pilori’s wedding; sleeping on the cold hearth late at night; running away. There was one of them building a house in a tree; of Everan reading to her; climbing trees; walking to school. And then they got much darker—her nightmare, three days before her birthday; their presents, lying abandoned on the street, Everan’s not there; a dark, shadowy figure that she didn’t recognize but was immediately frightened of; the Tree on fire; the branch that had crushed her; crowds of screaming people; fire burning her arm away. Last of all was a picture of Everan, trapped behind a wall of flame, arm reaching out—she had imagined him yelling and screaming for help as she had drawn this, and her hand had shaken so badly that she had had trouble finishing.
She was crying so hard that the charcoal stick slipped out of her fingers and clattered onto the floor. All of that, her entire life, everything she could remember—it meant nothing, now that Everan was gone. She grabbed the first one she saw and ripped it viciously in half; every picture with Everan in it should be burned, shredded, destroyed, like he had been. Every time she saw him on the floor she tore at the picture with her hands, her fingernails, her teeth, and soon she realized that every picture had him in it, all of them save three. She kept these and another one intact, hugging her knees and sobbing as she looked at them. The Tree burning—her arm protruding from the tree branch—the tall, dark figure—Everan dying.
These were what was real now. These were the only ones that had the right to exist. That was all that was left.
She fell over, exhausted and aching, and her hand fell onto the picture of Everan. His voice, his frighteningly cold, clear, precise voice, screamed for help and mercy in her ears, high-pitched from fright and youth…it was his birthday…eleven…that was all the heavens saw fit to give him…she didn’t realize that she was screaming too, crying and whimpering and screaming for him—their voices were the same.
When she was too exhausted to continue on, she fell into a heavy, troubled sleep, full of nightmare images of fire and rain and blood and screams of the dying and the damned echoing all around her. And again, her body tried clumsily to repair itself, and again, her mind carefully turned over its own contents, taking away the things that hurt her and locking them away in an icy, frozen corner forevermore. It could not keep doing this, that was clear…so this time, everywhere in her mind but the foremost part, the one that saw and tasted and touched and heard and spoke, was locked away, never to reemerge.
She woke up hours later, in the middle of the night, but she didn’t even know she had been asleep; her eyes opened straightaway, and she found herself somewhere completely unfamiliar. She was stiff and cold, and wanted to wrap herself in the blankets in the corner—but a more prominent part of her wanted to leave right away, and never return. It was eerie in here, and frightening…black, cold rain fell outside, thunder shaking the little house, lightning blinding her through the glassless window, and there was already a pool of black water gathering beneath the window. The lightning glinted ominously off a knife driven into the wall…the place made her shiver.
Something told her that she couldn’t leave just yet, however…she was cold, and wet, and hurt. Her legs were covered in dirt and blood and burns, her left arm wouldn’t move, her right arm was burned jet black, and her back felt stiff and scarred. She licked her dry lips and tasted blood—her nose was bleeding. There was a bandage around her torso, nearly falling off, stained red and gray and black. She thoughtlessly tore it off and dropped it onto the floor.
Now the chill in the air hit her harder than ever; she shivered and wished even more that she could curl up under the blankets and sleep. But too late—they had been soaking in the black water now, and were filthy and wet. She hugged herself to keep warm—there was a massive bruise across her chest—and then spotted something to be thankful for—a shirt and a tunic, scattered by an unknown force, dirty but dry and warm. She slipped them on, first the tunic, then the shirt—they were almost the same thing, except the shirt had sleeves and buttons. Two shirts, two pairs of black pants, a jerkin, and a tunic was all they’d ever had to wear, and without realizing it, Kamilé had just taken the last of them. She felt warmer than before, though still freezing.
She shivered all the more as she looked around the place…what a sad, lonely place to live. It was time to leave.
She jerked the knife from the wall and stuck it in her belt—it might come in useful.
And then she left. She wasn’t going to come back.
As she made her slow, clumsy way down the tree, there was something stuck in her mind that just wouldn’t fade away: she had seen a picture on the floor, of a boy with dark hair, trapped behind a wall of flames. She knew what he looked like, every feature, and she knew his name was Everan.
But that was all she was allowed to remember.
She knew him…he was the only person she could recall, even though she knew nothing about him…but she knew him. However, she never thought about him for a moment, asking herself where he was or why he was burning, because her mind wouldn’t allow it. Still, she thought of him, and she had no way of knowing that in her new, ever-changing world, he would become the only thing she would remember.
“Yep,” said Marli, wiping rain out of her eyes. “It’s just like I thought.”
The water in the bucket was jet black, and bits of debris were floating in it. Anyone who dared drink this stuff wasn’t going to make it past the morning.
“The water isn’t going to clear itself up for a long time,” Marli continued. “A couple of years, even. One of us’ll have to do it.”
“How?” someone asked. She smirked.
“I imagine you’ll have to swim down there and break through the wall yourself.”
A round of grimaces and a collective shudder ran about the crowd.
“But you don’t need to worry about that,” Marli told them. “I’m gonna do it.”
Sighs of relief were barely contained. The only one that didn’t look pleased about this was Kayle, who had come by to watch.
“Marli, this is stupid,” he told her firmly. “You can’t just go down there and expect to come back out again.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Stupidity is relative. I’ll be fine.”
“But you can’t—”
“Okay,” Marli said over him, addressing the crowd. “I need three strong people to pull the rope—you, you, and you—and someone to supervise…Kayle?”
He rolled his eyes but nodded—he would stay, just to make sure nothing went wrong, as it was bound to, and if it did, to make sure he had the full rights to say “I told you so.” Despite his skepticism about her plan, she was going to be glad that he was there. Finally, someone who was only partially a mindless Ametrisan—now that Kayle knew things, he was starting to fall out of that annoying habit of being like everyone else—ignorant and helpless. She had been pleasantly surprised when he’d finally accepted everything she’d said; he had actually believed her, he said it made a lot of sense. It was nice to finally be able to talk to someone about things that had plagued her for years.
“Everyone else, go help the Elders with all the other stuff.”
The Elders were supervising the rebuilding of the city, going almost entirely by the plan Marli had drawn up—the square had been cleared, the underground irrigation lines dug, and now the entire place was paved again and the frames for the houses were under construction. The merpeople and dwarves were gone, with promises to send help and supplies as soon as they could…but surprisingly, the humans had never left. Instead, they had sent for as many healers and workers as they could to come to them, and now the city was flooded with them. They were surprisingly wise in the methods of building houses and city centers, though the elves made it difficult by not allowing anything made of living wood.
They had made astonishing progress, and so many things were being done at once—many people, mostly young, eager children, planted seeds and saplings in the ground, where river mud had been poured over the ground—the ash would nourish the soil for centuries; strong men and women built houses and roads of stone; the path to the river was being paved; the trees were being healed, and so were the people. It seemed as if all of Ametris was working in unison for the greater good…it was beautiful.
“Right,” Marli said to the four remaining. “You three are going to lower and pull the rope whenever I say. You’re going to lower me down there, and when I tug on it, you’re going to pull me back up. It’s very easy, and don’t worry, I’m not heavy at all. Kayle, you make sure nothing goes wrong, and if I need anything, you go get it. Okay?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. If you’re ready, I’m going in.”
“Right now?” Kayle said incredulously; it all seemed rather sudden.
“Yes. Is there a better time to do it?”
Kayle had no argument against this, so he was forced to allow her to do as she pleased. She stepped onto the bucket, pleased when it held her weight, and gave final instructions before she disappeared.
“Don’t trust the pulley—you can loop the rope around it, just in case, but it’s really old and could break. If I’m not back after ten minutes, then there’s a dead body in your well, and I’m sorry about that. Just take it slow…not so jerky…yeah, that’s good. See you all in a minute.”
Kayle thought she must be crazy, doing something like this…but he was glad someone was willing to take the risk. Like Marli had told him the other day, things were entirely different where she came from…people must have been more decisive and forceful, less hesitant to do things that needed to be done. The world could use more people like that.
Marli waved a cheerful goodbye as she was lowered into the gloom of the well. It was dark, dank, and cold—she was wearing light, form-fitting clothes, and now wished she had not. Still, a sweater would have drowned her if she had to take a swim, which seemed to be inevitable. It was not the cold she was worried about, really…it was that disgusting, rank water, and the thought of going into it for even a moment.
Still, someone had to. And it might as well have been her.
Descending very slowly down a foul-smelling, black-walled well had thoughtful effects on a person, and Marli found herself glad to think about anything but what was below her. She’d had quiet a lot to think about in the past few days—the city on fire, Kamilé and Everan, fear, death, her home, its condition when she left it, and herself. Far from considering this city a temporary respite, a sort of holding area between trips to and from home, she now realized what she should have long ago: she was part of this country, whether she liked it or not. She thought sadly that it was unlikely she would ever be able to leave, and therefore she should make the best of her situation—which right now meant helping everyone in this cit return to their lives.
She was beginning to realize that she might be the only one in this entire country, other than the chosen, who could help these people; she had a lot of things that they were never going to get, but needed right now. Things like a traumatic childhood, the predisposition to war and violence, all the chaos in her old city, firsthand knowledge of coping with disaster, and six years of warrior training were expected in her country, commonplace (thought what was unexpected, she thought musingly, was living to be older than twenty-one). These aspects, though so useful at home, were not very pertinent here…but now this place was in need of assistance that only someone from the country of warriors could give, and she was happy to oblige, being the only one available.
“Stop,” she called, as the bucket hovered inches above the water. It tapped the surface with small, sluggish ripples, and she wrinkled her nose. Kayle was right, this was stupid. She cupped a palm-full of black water in her hand and inspected it—black, sludgy, and foul, with visibility at a nice round
zero. She definitely wasn’t looking forward to this.
“I’m gonna go in,” she called, trying not to gag, “just to see how deep it is.”
Weak affirmatives echoed down to her, sounding far-off and forlorn. She could clearly hear the better-you-than-me tones to their voices, and heartily agreed. She missed the sun already.
“I can’t hold my breath longer than two minutes,” she informed them, her voice thin and eerie in the gloom. “If it takes longer, well…”
There was no need to continue. Kayle’s voice was the only one that had the fortitude to answer.
“Don’t worry, Marli, we’ve gotcha.”
Well, it was reassuring to some extent. Marli dipped one of her bare feet cautiously into the water—shoes would have been suicide—and took several deep breaths to expand her lungs as she gathered her nerve; she hovered on the edge of the bucket, leaning out just enough so that the wooden vessel beneath her feet gave way and dragged her into the depths very much against her will.
The water was thick-feeling, almost slimy, and very cold. Marli didn’t even bother opening her eyes. She merely popped her head up for a few quick breaths and then plunged downward again. Swimming blindly down, she felt little pieces of wood brush her fingertips from time to time, and then saw stars as something whacked her in the head—surprised, she felt the short, thick branch with her hand, deciding groggily to get rid of it as soon as she could. She continued to swim downward, but it was deep; her ears had popped long since, and the pressure in her head was building up. She was just about to give up and go back to the air and partial light when her outstretched hand touched a layer of small stones and sand. Relieved, she gauged the distance as she shoved hard at the ground with her feet and tried not to hyperventilate as her head broke the surface again.
Kayle’s voice waited until she was done gasping for breath before it asked, “What’s the damage, Marli?”
“I found the bottom,” she called up, gripping tightly onto the rope. “It’s about thirty feet underneath me, I thought it would be much deeper. I can do it, easy.”
“Good.” Kayle sounded relieved. “Hurry up and get it done, will you?”
“Gladly. Give me two minutes.”
And then she went under again.
There was no point in drawing this out further, she thought to herself as she swam, as a distraction. It was such an Ametrisan thing to do, sit around and measure and prepare and get nothing done. All this well needed was a quick, hard kick in the right place, problem solved. When she arrived at the bottom this time, she immediately located the wall, emptying all the air from her lungs so she wouldn’t float upwards. It should be a rough patch, right at the bottom of the wall…rather wide…she felt a slow current of icy water and knew she was in the right place, and this was confirmed as she found the rough, makeshift wall. It wasn’t even mortared, she noticed with delight, and then kicked it, hard, until it came crashing down.
She was so pleased with herself that she didn’t feel it at first, but then her shoulders touched a ceiling of packed dirt, and she felt the rush of water—the black sludge was draining out of the well, and she was going with it.
Kayle grew increasingly edgy as ninety-six seconds passed by. ninety-seven, ninety-eight…he glanced down into the well again.
“It didn’t take her this long last time, did it?” he demanded of the three men, who were watching him calmly.
“Ah, no,” one said in a slow, drawling voice. “But then she’s got t’ kick down the wall or somethin’, don’t she?”
“It shouldn’t be taking this long,” he insisted. “She said two minutes.”
“Shure.” The man shrugged. “Two t’ get down there, two t’ get back up.”
“No!” Kayle objected hotly, frustrated. Two minutes ticked by. She could probably hold it in for fifteen seconds more or so and not die, but it wasn’t a safe bet. He himself couldn’t have held it for so long without passing out. As the nervous thoughts swirled around in his head, one of the three men pointed into the well with an exclamation that was echoed by the other two, and he saw something that made him all the more anxious.
“Th’ water’s gone!” a man said—a true visionary, he was, Kayle thought sarcastically. The water was indeed gone, and had only left grimy black marks on the wall. A small stream sparkled dimly in the sunlight, flowing right across the bottom of the well without pause. Marli was nowhere in sight.
“
Eäyo!” Kayle swore, elbowing the nearest man hard. While he rubbed his side ruefully, Kayle picked up the rope and looped it over the pulley, tying it swiftly and securely and hoisting the bucket up as fast as he could. He ticked off fast orders as he did so, his voice so stressed and worried that none of them were likely to disregard them.
“Marli did it, but she must have been sucked in by the current; I’m going down there. Lower me down, you don’t have to do it slow, just don’t let me crash at the bottom. Wait here for ten minutes or so, if I’m not back just leave it, I can climb up the rope myself. If you hear anything send help. Got it? Good, let’s go.”
And without another word he placed one foot into the bucket and gave the men an expectant glare. They nodded, struck dumb by the brevity of the situation, and immediately did as he said. He reached the bottom of the well three times faster than Marli had and immediately glanced at the hole leading upstream before confirming where she had gone—downward, into the darkness with the water. He fell to his knees at the entrance and strained his eyes to see through the gloom.
“Marli?” he called, and when he got no answer, shouted, “MARLI!
MARLI!”
A muffled, distant sound came to his sharp ears, and then again; it sounded like a voice. Whose, he couldn’t tell. “
Marli!” he called again.
The voice, high-pitched and pretty feminine-sounding, called something like “coming!” or “wait a second!”
[KV] and Kayle waited on tenterhooks until, far down in the tunnel, he saw a speck of lightness, pale hair or skin.
“Marli!” he said, relieved, reaching a hand out to her. “Are you okay?”
[KV1]“There’s a lake down there,” she said simply, coated in dirt and ash and still panting. “A big one. I want to explore down there someday.” She stopped to cough for a few seconds. “Saw a blind fish, too.”
“Who
cares, Marli, are you hurt or not?”
“Nah. Just swallowed some water,
ugh….”
“It worked though, there’s nothing left in the well but a lot of dirt, you did it…”
“Nice.” She took his hand and used it to pull herself out of the hole. “I guess we’ll clean the place up before we fill the well back up again, shame though, if I could just get a kayak
[KV2] down here…honestly, you hear the word ‘phosphorescent’ but you never really know what it means until you see a place like that, it was like glowing silver put in a room full of obsidian,
beautiful….”
“Yeah, okay, Marli, rock and water’s pretty when there’s no sunlight but really, we’ve got work to do. Unless you’re not finished exploring?”
She took him seriously, gazing ruefully down into the hole. She sighed. “No, you’re right, this needs to be done first…maybe some other time.”
She stood up, scrubbing her hands and face in the clear stream water until she could see properly. Kayle joined her. When that was done, Marli looked up and waved to the three men, waiting anxiously above.
“Hi,” she called up.
“Everythin’ a’ight down there?” one called back.
“Yeah, everything’s great. Look, we’re gonna send some rubble up with you that needs to be removed, and you’re gonna get rid of it and send down two scrubbers and some good soap, it’s filthy down here. Oh, and a hatchet. And you might wanna get a bigger bucket.”
If the men found these orders confusing, they were only more motivated; one stayed behind while the other two went to find everything. Marli started picking up the biggest pieces of wood and stone from the sandy ground and tossed them into the bucket, and Kayle copied her.
“Sand,” she muttered in annoyance. “No wonder that water always tasted funny. This’ll need to be paved, the stream too, we’ll need some stones and mortar…”
The bucket was filled to the top, and Kayle tugged on the rope. The man above them started to hoist it up.
“Thanks,” Kayle said unexpectedly, as she leaned against a wall and rubbed her aching temples.
“For what?” She looked up, surprised.
“You’re really doing a lot for everyone. Do you know how many people depend on this well? And you’re not just clearing the water, you’re making it cleaner…that’s really something, Marli.”
“Oh.” She sniffed, brushing her damp hair out of her face—it was now a dingy gray from all the ash. “Well, if you’re going to do something might as well do it properly, that’s what my dad used to say, and he was right y’know…”
“Still…you’re pretty good at all this, Marli, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Suffer unbearably, that’s what.”
Kayle laughed. The sound echoed so eerily that he stopped right away. They watched placidly as a larger wooden container was fixed onto the end of the rope, the softly discussing voices of the men drifting down to their ears. Bored, their eyes drifted, and Marli sighed and cleaned dirt off her fingernails.
“Romantic,” Kayle ventured hopefully.
“Nah.” Marli didn’t even look up.
[KV3]There was a series of thuds and clunks as the items were dropped inside the bucket, and then the pulley creaked as it brought them down. The new bucket was at least three times bigger, more of a washtub for laundry. As soon as it was at her eye level, Marli snatched the hatchet and went over to the branch that had whacked her earlier, proceeding to hack it into pieces, which she threw into the washtub. Kayle rescued the two scrubbers, fist-sized wood squares with rigid bristles attached to one side, and a glass bottle of soap.
“Clear the place out first,” Marli muttered, almost to herself. “Then use the washtub for soapy water, scrub the walls, pave the ground, make the wall.”
Kayle nodded, to show that he understood the plan, and they started to toss pieces of debris into the washtub until it was full. It rose up, and was emptied, and when it came back down it was full of stone and mortar. It took five more loads until Marli was satisfied, and then they got to work paving the bottom of the well. Their light talking, in low voices to defeat the creepy echo, passed the time, and it was much cooler down here than it was in the hot sun. The day passed in no time.
It was a few hours until sundown when Marli finally tossed her scrubber into the pail of dirty, soapy water and wiped black water from her eyes. “Done,” she sighed, looking around. The walls were very clean, especially considering that they had had to dangle off the edge of the rope thirty feet up to get all of it. There was a definite line where the cleanness ended and the wear, tear, and grime of centuries took its toll on the stone. But the water wouldn’t be touching that at all if they could help it.
Kayle took his time with a particularly stubborn spot, glancing around to see what more they could do. The ground was no longer rough sand and dirt; it was now a round sanctum of sorts, with a deep rut across one side through which the clear water flowed. If they could just get some light in here, it would be nothing short of beautiful.
He gave up on the spot and threw his scrubber in, too, gathering a double handful of water and drinking it thirstily. The next one went over his head. Marli just shoved her entire head underwater, shaking her head so it fell into messy, spiky layers.
“’Kay,” she said, obvious pleasure warming her voice, “You go back up and I’ll build the wall, then follow. I promise not to go exploring again,” she added with a grin as he arched an eyebrow at her. “Maybe,” she muttered under her breath.
“Shame the place has to be underwater,” Kayle sighed. “It’s actually really nice down here.”
They rested in the little circle of pale light in the center of the floor; at midday this had been a vibrant golden circle from the brilliant shaft of sunlight, a warm, dry place to eat their lunch. Both of them were starving again, and their arms ached.
“Want to come over for dinner?” Kayle asked lightly.
Marli snorted. “Sure, what an unexpected treat, since I live there now and all.”
“Don’t be so sarcastic, Marli, you know what I mean.”
“What’re you having? Baked rations again?”
“No…I found some watercress yesterday.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And what are you going to do with it?”
“Eat it?”
“With?”
“I dunno. Bread?”
Marli laughed. “You don’t know how to cook, do you?”
“No,” he admitted huffily.
“Oh, don’t worry, I can. I’ll show you how to make watercress salad. Do you even have a kitchen?”
“Yeah, what do you think those labs downstairs are for?”
Marli giggled helplessly, shaking with mirth. “No wonder your soup tastes like floor cleaner,” she choked, and he smirked.
When she finally gained control of herself, she stood up and punched him lightly the shoulder.
[KV4]“Get moving, I’ll finish up.”
He nodded without a word and tugged on the rope, stepping into the washtub, and in another minute he was just a black speck against the fading afternoon light. When the washtub returned, Kayle-free, she filled it with water a few times and splashed it over the floor until it was clean. Then she got to work on the wall.
The first thing she did was place the washtub between herself and the hole leading upstream, so the water flow was not quite as deep or intense. When it was no more than a trickle, she placed four stones across the little rivulet at the mouth of the hole, scraping some mortar across them and adding four more. This wall would not be so easily kicked down, she thought as she built it. When there was only one stone left, right in the center, she stepped onto the paved ground and tied the washtub back onto the rope, loading all of their things into it. Then she covered the stone in her hand with mortar and shoved it into the hole.
At once the place began to flood, and she hastily stepped into the washtub and tugged on the rope. She emerged blinking into the bright sunlight, realizing how filthy she was in an instant, but then someone handed her a towel and she thought of the idea of taking a nice bath, and felt better.
Elder Srai had been watching, it seemed—in any case, she was here now, watching the water rise.
“Excellent job, Professor,” she said warmly, and Marli felt relieved to be on her good side.
[KV5] “Thank you.”
“Sure,” Marli said, wiping her face on the fluffy towel. “It should fill up in a couple of days.”
Srai nodded. “I wish I could repay you somehow, Professor—I‘ll send some people to help you rebuild your schoolhouse tonight.”
Marli was about to nod in agreement, but then she stopped, thinking. “Actually…” she said slowly. “Do you think you can just bring the materials? I’d like to do it myself.”
“Um…” Srai blinked, a little confused. “All right…if you’re sure…”
“Yes, of course. And maybe, you could deliver a message to everybody from me, Elder? Can you tell everyone that all the children have school tomorrow?”
“I can, but how will you rebuild the schoolhouse in just one d—”
“Oh, I’m not. It will take a week at the most. But they might as well be in school, learning something. They can’t help much out here, can they? Don’t worry, I’ll teach them enough to help all of you really fast. I’ll supervise everything, don’t worry about any of it. Do you think you can tell everyone?”
Elder Srai was more confused than ever, which stopped her from objecting; instead, she stammered, “A-All right…I will.”
“Thank you.” Marli beamed, throwing her towel over her shoulder. “Now if you’ll all excuse me,” she added, “I’m going to go take a bath.”
Naturally, no one objected.
The river water was pure and cool and fresh, and it was a relief to throw her towel onto the bank and dive in, clothes and all. She’d stolen a scrubber and the rest of the soap, and got to work on her clothes—when they were clean, she tossed them onto the bank too, in a patch of sunlight, and got to work on herself. The water felt wonderful after the grime of the well, and she took her time, scrubbing herself all over twice until her skin was a light, raw pink. Her hair took just as long to clean, so it was almost sundown by the time she climbed out and wrapped herself in the warm towel, baking in a patch of dying sun. She threw herself onto the ground, in a patch of soft grass, folded her arms behind her head, and closed her eyes. Sleep would have been the plan, if something—or someone—had not found her and started to head her way.
She recognized the light footsteps and did not move, waiting for the cat to approach her on its own. It sniffed her thoroughly, seeming to like the scent of the soap in her hair, and finally let out a happy mew and rubbed itself against her shoulder. Marli opened her eyes and offered it her hand—it rubbed its grey-black side against her hand a few times before folding itself neatly into the size and shape of a loaf of bread at her side.
“Hello,” Marli said softly. It purred in greeting. “How’re you?”
Cats were extremely adept at body language—a little twitch of one ear accompanied by a small stretch of both front legs meant that trouble had visited it, but everything was all right now. Marli nodded understandingly, and then noticed it—her— swollen stomach.
“Are you expecting?”
The cat licked her paw, proud of herself.
“That’s nice…who’s the father?”
A sly glance into the forest—he must be very handsome. But then a small, worried swish of her tail indicated anxiety for him—she hadn’t seen him for awhile, what if he was hurt?
“Don’t worry,” Marli assured her. “males always do that, he’ll be back once the kittens are born.”
The way she closed her eyes and flopped down onto her side indicated pleasure and relief.
“When will they be born?”
The cat flexed her claws—very soon. With a nocturnal animal like a cat, that meant two or three moon changes—about two weeks.
“That’s wonderful.”
The cat thanked her with all her catlike grace. Then, to be polite, she asked how Marli was doing. Marli sighed.
“Everything’s going great, but still, there’s something really wrong…there’s this little girl I’m really worried about…she’s in trouble, and I have to help her, but if I do I can’t help the city…”
The cat mewed.
“But it isn’t that simple,” Marli insisted. “She’s different than everybody else, Cat! She’s more important than any of them…but she really needs help…still, if I help her Srai’ll think I’m a traitor and I can’t help everyone…but I have to, she needs me…”
The cat raised a whiskered eyebrow, politely bemused.
“Well, why am I worrying about that anyway?” Marli asked herself. “She’s not even here. She ran away.” She sighed, scratching the cat absently behind her ears. “I guess I’ll have to deal with this…when she comes back…
if she comes back…”
The cat arched her back, turning in a little graceful circle—all the big tall people should learn to go with the flow of time, she informed Marli. If they all had just done that, this sort of thing wouldn’t have happened. The cat was right.
“Good point,” Marli agreed. “Any suggestions?”
If cats could shrug, she had just done it. The smooth, fluid movement generated the same effect. Marli took that as something like, “Just sit back and let things happen. Do what you can to turn the future in the right direction. Everything will work out fine.”
“Thank you.” Marli meant it, too.
The cat waved a gracious paw.
It was getting dark, and Marli was cold; sighing again, she tugged on her shirt and pants and stood up, ruffling her hair with the towel to dry it faster. The cat, not ready to say goodbye, waddled after her. Marli stopped and looked at her with eyebrows raised.
“What?”
The cat gave her a look that said,
just who do you think you’re talking to, insolent mortal? [KV6] Marli expected nothing less—after all, she was a cat. She started to walk again, and the cat followed.
“Why are you following me?”
Because she felt like it.
“Why?”
Why was she asking so many questions?
“Will I find out soon, then?”
Perhaps.
Then, in a burst of very un-cat-like behavior, she placed her paw on Marli’s leg and looked at her with big green eyes. Marli understood the gesture—the cat wanted to help. She smiled.
“It’s a long way—would you like me to carry you?”
She would manage.
“All right…say, do you like cheese?”
The cat licked her pointed canines.
“Good, ‘cause I owe you some. C’mon. I’ve gotta go help Kayle with his watercress. You can nap by the fire if you want.”
The cat started to purr again. Apparently carrying a half-dozen kittens was very tiring.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you?”
How undignified, certainly not.
“Yes, I thought so.”
The cat trotted gracefully after her, front paws setting a rhythm twice as fast as Marli’s feet. Marli kept it slow so she wouldn’t be too tired out.
“Have you ever had kittens before?”
No she had not, but she knew it would be wonderful.
“How many do you think there will be?”
No clue. It felt like ten, but there were probably only four.
“That’s nice. I’m sure they’ll be beautiful. Do you think I could see them?”
Perhaps, if the elf-girl was nice….
Marli smiled. They walked in silence for a while, until they came out onto the empty street. The Great Tree rose tall and broken above them.
“What’s your name?” she asked the cat.
The cat cocked her head to one side—what was a
name?
Marli smirked. In her country, no one had ever committed the indignity of naming a cat. Names along with people changed, but cats never did. That was why she liked them.
School started an hour after dawn as usual. The weather was dismal, resigned: it was raining, but so lightly compared to the past few days that no one really cared to avoid it. Marli was dismayed to see that only half her class had shown up. She didn’t know if the other half was dead or hurt or just skipping—quite honestly, she didn’t want to think about it.
Marli scanned the crowd of them, waiting awkwardly on the path, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage. Many of them were injured, but not too badly. A few had arms in slings or legs in casts. Almost every one of them had burns or bruises adorning their bare skin.
No Kamilé or Everan. She had expected as much.
“Good morning,” she told them, as cheerily as she could. They stared blankly back. “I’m glad you’re all here…where’s the rest of the class?”
A chorus and “he’s sick” and “her mama said” and “I dunno” and such rang out.
“Does anyone…” She swallowed, but made herself continue, determined to know the worst. “Does anyone know if any of them are dead?”
“Yeah,” a small girl murmured, and they all turned their eyes to the ground.
“My brother,” an older boy named Vix half-whispered, scrubbing a fist over his eyes. “Rhoen.”
“Terren,” the little girl offered, her voice shaking.
“Alika,” her brother said, before he started to cry.
“Meera is missing,” an older girl said, hands shaking.
“So’s Corrin.”
“Serri had to take care of everyone,” her friend offered. “Her whole family’s sick.”
“So that’s her brothers and sister too,” Marli said to herself. The children listed a few more names of sick ones, and then the ones who couldn’t come for some reason, each voice subdued, reluctant to speak, and small. When a child was talking, the others stayed completely silent. As Marli stored all of the names to memory, she looked at them sadly—if any group had been hit the hardest by this tragedy, it was the elfin children.
In the silence that followed, a little boy burst into tears. “I wanna go home!” he wailed, and every one of them, even the older ones, nodded in agreement. The smaller children started to cry, taking up the pitiful wail of “wanna go home, wanna go hoooooommme….” It was not at all like the way small children usually cried—they were lost, lonely, and sad, and didn’t know what to do. Marli sensed that the “home” they referred to was not here in the city—it was somewhere they remembered that was long gone, burnt to ashes, and they knew it.
She knelt on the ground in front of the boy who had first started to cry and hugged him tightly. He clung to her, sniffing and wailing, and she felt small bodies pressing to both of them as all the little kids hugged her tightly.
“I know, I know,” she whispered to them, trying to hug them all at once. “It’ll be okay….”
The children’s wails became words, moaning to her, sounding frightened; she heard them tell her things they had seen, their parents’ bodies, blood everywhere, fire burning them, haunting screams that sounded familiar to them. They asked her things she couldn’t answer, who was gone, why, where they were going, how the deities could have let this happen. She heard fuller, deeper voices among them; all of them were clinging to her and each other, torn by tragedy, lost and afraid.
“It’s okay, everyone,” she told them again and again, and finally, she comforted them enough to have the heart to say, “Everyone sit down, please,” and tear them away from her. She took the boy in her lap—he was one of the youngest here, only five-and-a-half. All of them sat on the path, huddling close together for warmth and strength, wide eyes, too big for their faces, locked onto her. She smoothed the boy’s hair, looking at each of them as she chose her words.
“When the deities made this world, they intended us to have control,” she finally said, her voice soft and low. “Not full control, but enough to make our own decisions, to make ourselves happy. We shaped the world, not the deities—they merely watch from above and guide us, but they can’t directly interfere. People make mistakes sometimes…no one can help that. I don’t believe that the fire was punishment for something…or just the deities being mean or cruel…I believe it was a mistake. An accident. No one in the world could be so awful to all of us, make us all go through this…I don’t believe that anyone is to blame.
“Things are going to be a little hard for everyone for awhile…we’re trying our best to rebuild the city, the other grown-ups and I, but it will take a long time. Until then, everyone will have to be strong, even all of you. I know most of you don’t have a home anymore…or your homes are too damaged to live in…I know many of you lost family. I wish that I could give it all back to you, all of you, but I can’t.
“But I
can do something for you all…I know how we can help everyone, including ourselves. I know you’ve all been told that you can’t help rebuild the city, you’re too young or too weak, too precious to lose…but none of you can just sit here and wait for the world to fix itself. I know we don’t have a schoolhouse right now, and it will be hard for me to teach without it, so I called you here today so we can rebuild it, all of us. If all of us help, we can make it better than before—the Elders gave us everything we need. And when we’re done, you’ll know how to help the city.”
“I…” Marli’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat and went on nonetheless. “I want you all to have somewhere that you feel at home in. Somewhere that’s just us. We’re all friends with each other, you know…if there’s any differences between us, they’re all in the past now. I want this place to be for all of us when it’s done, just our secret—school doesn’t have to be boring or useless. I’m going to do the best I can to make sure you all feel safe here, and I know you’ll all do the same. Are you with me?”
Their eyes glowing, every student nodded firmly. A chorus of “YEAH!” rang up from the smaller children, who all started bouncing excitedly, tugging on the hands of their older brothers and sisters, who looked determined and immobile in their decision. Marli smiled, rising to her feet and swinging the little boy onto her shoulders.
“What are we waiting for?” she asked them, her eyes shining challengingly, and they all started to laugh and shout as they ran to the ruins of the schoolhouse.
Marli wrote instructions on the slateboard, which she leaned against her desk:
Today:
• Everyone needs a pair of gloves from my desk before they begin
• Bring everything in the classroom outside, into the courtyard.
• Everything that isn’t ruined should be put to one side.
• Work together on the larger things—don’t do anything you can’t handle.
• When everything is gone, we will sweep up and go home.
• Lunch will be served at midday, there’s enough for everyone.
Ask me for help if you need it. Be careful and don’t get hurt. Good luck!
And so they began.
Marli glowed with pride as she watched them all day, helping them wherever she could and supervising with watchful eyes. The little boy remained on her shoulders, tiny gloves on his hands—they had thoughtfully been provided with enough pairs for everyone in her class—and everywhere he saw something about to fall off the crumbling walls, he reached up and snatched it, handing it to Marli, who placed it outside.
On one side of the courtyard, a pile of blackened wood and broken desks and huge splinters and ash-bound books towered, growing every minute. On the other side, a neat pile of undamaged books, bottles from her closet, a couple of unscathed desks upon which sat parchment piles and quills, and a few pictures remaining from the dozens of them on the wall rested on the damp grass, undergoing a thorough brushing by two diligent girls. As these piles grew, the mess inside the schoolhouse lessened; by the end of the day, nothing was left inside, every tiny grain of ash swept out by the persisting kids.
Marli had never been more proud of all of them.
She told them so at lunch, where they sat on and around the unbroken benches and feasted on cheese, bread, fruit salad, and clear water. They were all flushed and beaming with the pride that comes from hard work, many of them sporting bruises or aching limbs but not a single one complaining. They were chattering excitedly, sharing the food and flasks of water among each other, perfectly content. They had forgotten their troubles for awhile, and Marli was glad.
“Okay, everyone,” she called, and they turned to face her, falling silent. “We’re doing really well today, we should be finished in another hour or so. I have homework for you all tonight—”
Everyone groaned. Marli smiled.
“Don’t worry, it’s fun homework. All of you had pictures on the wall once, but many of them were ruined, so I want every single one of you to draw another one. Not just a picture, though—I want a picture of things that you see, or things that you feel. You can go into the forest and draw a squirrel if you like, or you can draw your house, or the Great Tree—just draw something that matters to you. I want it by the end of the week. By then we should have all of our walls built again. All right?”
They nodded, eyes misting over as they thought of what they would draw.
“Everyone has done a great job today—I want to see you again tomorrow, so get some rest, because we’re rebuilding the western wall. And remember,” she said, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “this place is gonna be our secret.”
She winked at them, and they nodded solemnly back. A few of them giggled with the novelty of having such a big secret.
“Now get to that last corner,” she ordered them.” And then you’re free to go.”
They jumped up, cheering elatedly, racing each other inside.
All of them had been avoiding this corner for awhile—this was where everything had somehow piled up, a couple of desks, a shelf, and a lot of little things, in a huge, messy pile. All of it had twisted together and conformed into one big mess, and no one wanted to touch it. But Marli insisted that they had to deal with it before they went home. With all of them helping at once, it shouldn’t take too long. Then they had to sweep up and put their tools back, and were free to go.
She left them at it, checking each of the drawers in her desk to see if the contents had survived. One full of old homework was ruined by water—the kids would be happy about that. Everything on top had been destroyed as well, except her durable little eagle-feather quill. She was just returning from carrying an armful of ruined parchment to the courtyard when something made her freeze—a high scream from one of the girls.
Everything happened quickly after that.
The girl who had screamed was holding back a huge piece of desk, which slammed back against the wall as she dropped it in surprise, but then it fell with a crash to the floor as a half-dozen boys pulled it away, and then the small crowd gathering around hid whatever was happening, though their shouting and cat-calls were not enough to mask the high-pitched panicked screams that were coming from the heart of the crowd.
Marli was over there in an instant.
“Stop it, everyone, be
quiet, let me see—
Augh!”
The boy holding the tiny figure up immediately dropped her and backed away at the sound of Marli’s voice, and the crowd fell silent, sensing imminent doom upon them. But she was too stunned to speak. There, curled up on the ground, her arms thrown over her head and tiny whimpers escaping her throat, in one of the worst places she could possibly be, was Kamilé.
DUM DUM DUM DUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMM!!!!!!! You knew that was coming, Kamile had to pop up sometime. The story is about her y'know.
D'awwww, the cute little kids. Eat your heart out--they're about to get murderous in the next few chapters.
Cats are very expressive.
The floor under my desk is really sticky.
Also, my computer may or may not have a virus--again. CH. 15 might take a leeeeeetle longer than usual. I love you guys. heart
Sidenotes:
KV: Those two phrases sound kinda the same in Ametrisan.
KV1: Marli, Marli, I'll never let go...*snicker* xp
KV2: "Kayak" is the best way to describe it--it really isn't anything like a kayak. I'll explain some other time.
KV3: Marli/Kayle drama. Someone made a request that this be so, but by that time I'd already written it...so I was like, rofl . It really is funny. c: Kayle got REJECTEEEEEEDDDDD!!! xd
KV4: Punching people on the shoulder is a trademark of mine. All my friends have some bruises there. Anyone bugs me, they get slugged on the shoulder. I punch hard. :3 It's better than bottling it up, right?
KV5: This is the exact place where I had writer's block, which explains the delay. i finished from there in about four hours. Damn you writer's block.
KV6: Caroline's cat coined the higher-evolutionary-plane, reigning-over-all-present, you-may-worship-me-...from-afar kitty glare. ©Bijou 2006 
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