Dormia (31 page)

"Bilblox's been with us longer than you have," replied Alfonso angrily. "And he's the bravest, most reliable person I've ever known."

"You'll regret this," said Spack. "Our—your—only priority should be getting the bloom to Somnos. This is not some boyish game! Your loyalty to your friend comes a distant second. Don't you see—people's lives are hanging in the balance! I simply cannot accept this!"

"You don't have to come," retorted Alfonso.

Spack stared angrily at Alfonso, Hill, and Bilblox. "Fools!" she said. "You obviously won't listen to reason. Suit yourselves. But mark my words: you'll need me before this journey is through. I'm a
Wanderer.
"

***

At sunrise the next morning, Bilblox grimly set off through the forest. He had been blind for three days straight, and before that, he had been able to see for only a few minutes at a time. He was doubtful his sight would ever return.

But he tried to forget about this as he set off on the path. Luckily, it was just as straight as Hill said it would be. There were a few occasions when he began to stray a little from one side or another, but he simply felt around with his feet and confirmed he was still on the snow-covered path. An hour
passed, then two and three, and Bilblox continued his fast pace. It was actually quite easy. And the one good thing about being blind was that there was no temptation for him to look back over his shoulder. Once, he thought he heard footsteps behind him, but he couldn't be sure because the wheelbarrow was in need of an oiling and its wheels were squeaky and loud. In any case, he didn't look back.

Eventually, around what felt like midday, Bilblox reached the stream crossing. He felt the crunch of the icy surface underneath his feet. All he had to do was make it across without falling, slipping, or getting turned around. This, he realized, would be the trickiest part of his journey. The key was to do it slowly and carefully. Very cautiously, he rolled the wheelbarrow onto the ice. Then he placed one foot onto the ice followed slowly by the other. The ice didn't crack or budge. It was frozen solid. Hill had told him that the stream was roughly ten paces in width. That was nothing—just ten confident steps.

Bilblox took his first step and counted out loud to himself, "One." He took another step and said, "Two." He took yet another step and said, "Three." Everything was going quite well. On his fifth step, Bilblox smiled with confidence, thinking it would be easy. Unfortunately, he couldn't see that below him was a patch of ice swept clean of snow. It gleamed with a brilliant shine, and it was by far the slipperiest piece of ice around. In his confidence, Bilblox put his foot down a little too hard. It slipped and in a split-second, his legs came out from under him and he hit the ice with a monstrous
thunk!
His head cracked against the ice and he passed out for a second. When he came to, he had no idea what direction he was facing. Even worse, he had lost his grip on the wheelbarrow.

Bilblox struggled to regain his composure. The wheelbarrow had to be nearby. It simply had to be! He groped around in every direction, but felt nothing. He was reluctant to move because then he would lose his sense of where he was. He knew, for example, that he was in the middle of the stream somewhere near the path. And if he had turned around by mistake, would the Straszydlos attack? Maybe they wouldn't attack a blind man. Regardless, he had to find the wheelbarrow without moving. But how?

After a few anxious minutes, he realized that the answer was sitting underneath him. He grabbed at the snow around him and quickly made four, firmly packed snowballs. He would throw one in each direction. Hopefully one of them would hit the wheelbarrow and make a noise. Perhaps the Straszydlos wouldn't notice his plight.

Bilblox tossed the first snowball, but it landed silently in the snow. He turned ninety degrees and tossed the second. Nothing. He turned again and tossed the third.
Thunk!
It was the sound of the snowball hitting the wooden frame of the wheelbarrow. He'd found it! On his second stride in the direction, he found the wheelbarrow.

Bilblox grabbed it, spun around, and reversed his steps, but on the way back the wheelbarrow ran smack into a tree. He grimaced and realized that despite his best efforts, he was completely turned around. For a few minutes, he walked around wildly until a sudden wind bit into his cheeks and he realized the situation was getting desperate. He had to make it to the other side of the forest by sundown, but he was currently stuck in the middle of a stream with no ability to see. And to make matters worse he had the bloom with him. If he couldn't figure
a way out, he would die. And then what would happen to the bloom? More importantly, what would happen to all of those people in Somnos who were counting on them to arrive with the plant?

At that very moment, Bilblox heard the unmistakable sound of a branch snapping somewhere behind him. Another branch snapped. He heard the sound of breathing. Then came the panicky whisper of an older man's voice:
Which way is it? I think we're lost. We never should have come into these woods.

"Who's there?" yelled Bilblox.

Immediately his question was echoed back at him.
Who's there?
Bilblox shuddered. It was his voice being mimicked back at him. The Straszydlos had arrived.

A moment passed. Then the older man's voice repeated itself:
Which way is it? I think we're lost. We never should have come into these woods.

Seconds later, Bilblox heard a deep growl, followed by a man's voice quavering in fear:
My wife! My children! Please don't!

At least one Straszydlo was nearby, maybe more. Bilblox had to return to the trail and start moving. But how?

He knew the answer. It was in the sealskin pack. He remembered that awful moment in the catacombs below Barsh-yin-Binder, when he had frightened Alfonso by demanding to have just a pinch of the powder. He'd do anything for Alfonso, and his friend trusted him with the most important thing in the world, the bloom. But now he was alone.

Bilblox knelt on the ice, opened the sealskin bag, and pulled out the bloom. Tenderly, even lovingly, he ran his hands across the leaves of the plant. He remembered his pledge aboard the
Success Story
never to touch the plant again. But what choice
did he have? If he couldn't get out of the forest, the bloom would never make it to Dormia.

It had to be done.

Just then, a scream tore through the silent forest.
Not my leg! Please God, not my leg!

Bilblox cringed and bit his lip. His hands shook as he took hold of the smallest leaf at the bottom of the stem, tore it away cleanly, and placed it in a small depression in the ice. He gulped down the lump in his throat, reached into his inner coat pocket, and pulled out a book of matches. He struck the first match to the leaf, but its flame died instantly in the wind. He struck another, moved its flame quickly to the leaf of the plant, and the leaf caught fire. A moment later, it was done and Bilblox felt sick to his stomach.

He delicately placed a moist index finger where he had burned the leaf, picked up a few granules, and placed his finger directly onto his wide-open white eyes. His whole body shuddered in complete and utter pleasure. In a flash, he could see again—only it was telescopic vision. He glanced up, through the clouds, up toward a patch of blue where two hawks were passing overhead. He could see their individual feathers vibrating against the wind. The hawk's talons held a dead mouse. He could even see the mouse's black, beady eyes. A moment later, the telescopic vision was gone. He felt strong, even stronger than on the
Success Story.
He felt invincible. The wounds across his shoulders and chest disappeared, and he felt as healthy as ever.

Next came the moment of prescience—the brief window when he could glimpse into the future. He saw Alfonso resting at a campsite on a snowy mountainside. Hill was making breakfast. Spack was just getting up. A teakettle was clanking. Bilblox knew instinctively that he must remember all of these details. Much like the flying fish that he had seen last time, these clues would help him place this vision. High above the encampment a large piece of ice suddenly broke loose. It hurdled down the mountainside with enormous speed and, before anyone could react, it crushed the entire camp. Everyone was buried, and they would soon suffocate to death. The vision ended—everything went black—and then Bilblox's vision returned. For the first time in days, he could see! He shivered at the thought of what he had just foreseen. But there was no time to think of this. First he had to make it through the forest. Before returning to the trail, he knelt down and carefully checked the area for the ash. He found a few small granules. With his heart beating in excitement, he took the ash and placed it carefully in the breast pocket of his heavy jacket. He wouldn't take the ash anymore, he told himself, but just in case, he'd have a little bit. There was no reason to leave it behind.

Bilblox glanced up the frozen-over stream and saw that the trail was about twenty feet away. He packed up the bloom, returned it to the sealskin pack, and strapped it back onto the wheelbarrow. Within seconds, he was back on the trail, running toward the setting sun. With his vision working perfectly he was soon making excellent time. Though he was sick with worry about the bloom, Bilblox couldn't help feeling ecstatic. He could see! Everything was beautiful—the gloomy trees, the snow underfoot, the dark blue sky, everything. For the next three hours or so he practically ran down the trail. After his encounter with the Straszydlos at the river, the forest was silent. Only when sundown approached did his vision ebb. It felt
like his eyes were a TV with bad reception. He wanted to thump his head but he knew it would do no good.

As the sun started its descent toward the horizon, he emerged at the far end of the forest. His vision was blurry, but he soon found the cave. There was no sign of Resuza.

"Resuza!" yelled Bilblox. "RESUZA!"

Silence.

He kept yelling for another ten minutes until his voice was hoarse. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, and Bilblox shivered in the dark. He buried his head in his jacket. "Oh, Resuza," mumbled Bilblox. "I hope you're okay."

B
Y THE NEXT MORNING
, when Alfonso set out across the forest, the path was well beaten down. He had been walking down the path for roughly a mile when he came upon a heavy red cloak lying across the trail. It was Resuza's and it was torn badly. Alfonso picked up the cloak. Beneath it, someone—presumably Resuza—had neatly carved a series of numbers and a message into the snow.

1, 4, 9, 16, 25, 36, 49, 64, 81, 100

WARN THEM!

Was this message meant for Alfonso? What did these numbers mean? And whom, exactly, was Alfonso supposed to warn? None of this made any sense. Alfonso stared at the drawings. Suddenly, another thought occurred to him: what if it wasn't Resuza who had done this? Could it be a trick of the Straszydlo? Alfonso glanced around to his left and right. He was very careful not to look backwards. He saw nothing, but he sensed that someone—or something—was standing directly behind him.

Excuse me, sir,
said a gentlemanly voice.

Alfonso's head jerked, as if to glance backwards, but at the last moment he stopped himself.

Excuse me, sir,
said the voice again.

Alfonso wanted to keep walking, but he felt bound to stick around and see if anything bad had happened to Resuza. Quite plainly, a Straszydlo was standing directly behind him. Alfonso was trying to plan his next move when he heard the voice of a frightened girl.

I'm so sorry, Alfonso!

The voice was almost a shriek, but it sounded vaguely familiar. It sounded like Resuza.

I'm so sorry, Alfonso!

"Resuza, is that you?" asked Alfonso without turning around.

I'm so sorry, Alfonso!

Alfonso felt a shiver twitch its way up his spine. He had an awful thought: were these Resuza's last words?

I'm so sorry, Alfonso!
The voice was much closer.

Alfonso dropped Resuza's cloak, broke into a run, and started sprinting up the path. He ran and ran and ran until he was
completely winded. At one point he stumbled and almost fell. Tears fell down his cheeks. He wondered if he should retrace his steps and return to where he had found Resuza's cloak and the strange message. He couldn't just keep going. Could he?

***

Sometime around midday, Alfonso came to the stream crossing. A thin coating of snow sat upon the icy surface. It was covered with footprints and wheelbarrow tracks. They led all over the place as if—for some strange reason—Bilblox had decided to walk in circles. Had he become turned around or lost? Alfonso grew worried but then he noticed the wheelbarrow tracks continuing on the far side of the stream. He sighed with relief and continued on his way.

Less than five minutes after crossing the stream, Alfonso saw the twenty-foot-tall stone statue of the cyclops just off the trail but semihidden by a number of trees. The statue depicted a figure, dressed in heavy robes, who looked just like a normal man—except that he had only one eye squarely in the middle of his forehead. The eye was the only part of the statue not made of stone. It looked like a dark blue glass or crystal. Alfonso glanced at the inscription at the foot of the statue. He could not read it, because it was written in Mezscrit—a strange-looking language with lots of dots and swirls—but he remembered Rosalina's translation of the first stanza: "
This old sphere may be pried / Many a clever person has tried / Remember how the cyclops died / Through the ear and not the eye.
"

Alfonso knew he should keep moving, but he couldn't resist
the urge to stop for a minute or two in order to inspect the statue. What did it mean, "This old sphere may be pried?" Alfonso supposed it meant that the eye could somehow be removed. But how? "It has to be related to how the cyclops died," he said to himself. "
'Through the ear and not the eye'
—but what does that mean?"