Brian Rathbone - Inherited Danger
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- Название:Inherited Danger
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Catrin was not sure she understood any more about Barabas than before she asked, and she hoped his words would make more sense in time.
"We should've brought this thing up in pieces," Strom said through gritted teeth. "We could've assembled it once we got it all up there." Milo and Gustad launched into their usual debate, and Strom was frightened by the fact that he was beginning to understand them. Sometimes he was even tempted to interject his own thoughts, but it just seemed like asking for trouble.
"I'm losing my grip," Osbourne said. "We need to put it down."
"Be careful of the lenses, boys," Gustad said.
"We know. We know," Strom said as they eased the looking glass to the stairs. All of their effort had gone into reconstructing this ancient relic, and though they could see little through the parabolic lenses when in the workshop, Milo remained convinced it would work. He said it had been found atop Limin's Spire, and there it could be used to see the stars. Looking up, Strom gave up trying to count how many more stairs they had left to climb.
"We must get the looking glass to the spire before nightfall," Milo said, as he had a number of times before.
Strom was tempted to go get some big, strong men to carry the looking glass, but he knew he could not. No one else knew how much work went into repairing this relic, and he could not trust anyone else to handle it. Thinking back to the feeling of success he'd had when they finally produced a workable lens, he smiled. Though they never achieved a perfect pour, Strom was proud to have gotten close. The imperfections in the first lens were few, and there was a perfectly clear area in the center. The second lens was even better, for which Strom was thankful; there was barely enough material left to make even one more pour. Milo was insistent that they not resort to remelting glass, and Strom often wondered what it was he feared.
"I'm ready," Osbourne said.
Grunting, they lifted the looking glass and, once again, began to climb.
"This thing better work."
After a few days in Barabas's company, Catrin came to see him as a guardian of the land, and that image pleased her. It seemed at times that he spoke to the trees and the soil itself, as if asking directions, and he would move off with confidence. Catrin had her own way of communing with the natural world, but she did not receive coherent thoughts. Instead, vague impressions brushed against her consciousness. She tried to listen in on his conversations with nature, but they were simply beyond her grasp, as if she were listening for something that could only be seen.
On the fifth day of their journey, though, vague impressions became an almost overwhelming expression of emotion. Tears streamed down her face as waves of joy mixed with sadness washed over her. It came from all around her yet felt as if it were her own. When she glanced at Barabas, she saw his eyes welling, and Benjin sniffed.
"You sense it, heart of the land?" he asked, and she nodded, mute. "What of you, Guardian? You sense it as well?"
"I feel joy and sadness all around us, and… I think… a melody," Benjin said.
"Hmm, indeed. The dryads are singing a farewell dirge, which does not bode well for our travels. I know not what danger they anticipate, but I've never heard the virgin forests sing of such an end. It's as if the trees expect to be wiped out almost completely."
"That's horrible! We must save them," Catrin cried, but Barabas laid a hand on her shoulder.
"It's not all sadness, heart of the land. You can sense the joy as well. In death, there is rebirth, the chance to begin anew. The forest prepares for a catharsis rather than extinction. I will miss the trees; they have been good to me, and I love them dearly. But I know they will return someday, and so will I, and then we will once again breathe the same air. Still, in this time of peril, I fear the implications this will have on our journey."
His words created an anxious mood, and they moved in wary silence, alert for any signs of danger to the trees and themselves. It was not until late that night that the first signs of trouble showed themselves. The air had become unseasonably warm-not balmy but well above freezing-and distant thunder told of storms. Occasionally they saw far-off flashes of lightning, but it was the growing orange glow on the northern horizon that alarmed them. Within a short time, the acrid smell of smoke assaulted them. The forest was afire, and Catrin knew they were but kindling before the fury of the inferno. Dried leaves would need little urging to ignite, and the glow became brighter as the night wore on.
"Should we flee the forest now? I don't want to be burned alive," Catrin said, reluctantly revealing her fears.
"The trees will guide us and will warn me if we are endangered. For now, I sense the danger is greater beyond the trees. If we go into the open now, I fear things will not go well."
"I trust you, Barabas, and I trust your instincts, but can you be sure the trees will know when we must leave?"
"Nothing is certain, but I trust them more than I trust myself," he said.
She tried to have faith, but fire struck her with a primal fear.
"The winds are from the west at the moment," Benjin said, "but if they turn to the south, we could be in trouble. Stay aware of the winds, and we will know when the fires will approach."
"Well said, Guardian."
Catrin tried to share their confidence but found it difficult to sleep with the smell of fire in her nostrils. When morning arrived, a haze hung over the land until the winds picked up and clouds of smoke rolled across them. The winds were still mostly out of the west, but they seemed to be taking a southerly turn. By midday, the fires came into view, and the devastation was appalling. Flames climbed high into the sky and became so intense that tornados of fire raced through the hills, leaving nothing but smoldering ash in their wake.
Large embers and bits of ash clogged the air, and the smoke threatened to choke them, but still Barabas kept to the trees. He skirted around the fires and always seemed to find some stretch of land that had not yet been burned until they reached a hillside that was nothing but cinder. Hot embers lay under a blanket of gray powder, and they picked their way through the remains of the fire. The soles of their boots were poor protection from the intense heat, and they moved as quickly as they could to reach an island of trees that lay beyond the hill.
The remaining trees stood as a bastion of hope. Some part of the virgin forest remained unmolested, and yet as they drew closer, the song of the dryads grew stronger. The land resonated with it, and it was clear the danger was not past. When they were nearly halfway across the field of ash, darkness washed over them. Banks of ominous clouds rolled eastward, and they blotted out the light. No lightning brightened the landscape, but a heavy rain began to fall.
Rain seemed like a boon at first, for it doused the embers and cooled their feet, but the steady fall intensified and became a downpour, and the distant trees disappeared in the haze. The group struggled through clinging mud, and Catrin often lost her footing. Unseen stumps and roots were concealed under a blanket of ash, waiting to snag the unwary, and the wet ash was deadly slick in places. As they moved with dreadful slowness, fears blossomed in Catrin's mind. The song of the dryads did nothing to assuage them.
At one point they stopped and huddled together. The winds shrieked and tore at them, and only the support of Benjin and Barabas kept Catrin on her feet. Later the rains abated, and they were left to slog through knee-deep mud. It was excruciatingly slow, and their goal was just beyond their reach. Unburned trees loomed ahead of them, and they drove themselves onward as if that stand of ancient trees would be their salvation.
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