Shadow Tree (3 page)

It was happening – again.

The dizziness grew worse. Ten seconds later, he was sprawled on the ground. He knew that he was about to have another series of hallucinations. This strange phenomenon had just started happening. As far as he could tell, these hallucinations always occurred within a few hours of him using the ash from Jasber. Some of the visions were from his childhood – images of himself sitting in his mother's lap or of splashing about in the water with his older brother; but sometimes, the images were of him sitting or walking in some unknown place, and Kiril suspected that these were glimpses of the future.

By now, Kiril knew better than to fight what was happening. Instead, he lay in the snow, staring at the tattered branches and one by one, visions invaded his mind.

“So beautiful,” he rasped, as he saw an image of his mother's face basked in the warm light of a candle. Other visions soon followed – one of his father chopping wood, another of his grandmother playing chess, and yet another of himself digging a shelter in the snow. Where was that last one from? The past? The future? Impossible to say. All together, the visions were a collection of smeared snapshots, some bizarre, others quite normal. There was a tropical scene – perhaps in ancient Travancore or Tenochtitlan – filled with trees and wildlife and tangled creeper vines. Kiril also had a brief glimpse of Nartam, stroking his face affectionately.

The final vision was of a very slender, shy girl standing on the edge of an abyss. He recognized her at once. It was
the girl
– the one he had taken in and cared for. Kiril would not go so far as to say that she was
his child
. They were not related. Nothing connected them officially, although he quietly dreamt of a future where they would be reunited. Kiril had saved the girl, brought her in from the cold, much the way that Nartam had once done for him – the only difference being that Kiril wanted and expected nothing from the girl. He simply liked the way that she sighed after drinking a cup of warm milk. He liked the peaceful look on her face when she slept and a sliver of moonlight illuminated her face. The girl lived in Dargora, where Kiril lived, but he had not been home in years. Would she be waiting for him? Would she be angry with him for being away for so long? Had anyone looked out for her? Was she even still alive? In the vision, the girl looked older than he remember her. She must be alive, thought Kiril. This had to be a glimpse of the future. Kiril had no way of knowing this for sure, but he felt it must be true.

The vision of the girl lasted longer than the others; and the final sequence of the vision was electrifying. The girl was dressed in furs and standing on a snow-covered platform, which jutted out over the edge of an old wooden sailing ship. Snow swirled about in the wind. The girl ran forward. She appeared to be rushing to help a large man who was wounded and lay on his stomach. As the girl ran to help the wounded man, a hand reached out and shoved her. Kiril could not see whose hand this was. Whoever it was stayed hidden in the shadows. The hand itself had blood on it – and an open-wound along the wrist that was in the peculiar shape of a crescent moon. The girl lurched forward, toppling into the abyss. Yet at the very last moment, the large wounded man – who had been lying on the ground, on his stomach – grabbed the girl's ankle and tried to pull her back to safety. The dream ended before it became clear whether or not the large man succeeded in saving her. The large man never turned around and Kiril never saw his face; but it didn't matter. Kiril recognized the man at once by his shape and size.

It was Bilblox.

Kiril's eyes flickered open. His head ached, his limbs tingled, and a metallic taste lingered in his mouth. He sat up, fighting off a feeling of dizziness. He took a breath, gathered his focus, and rose to his feet. A minute later, he was running back through the snow, retracing his own footsteps, racing back to the Sea of Clouds. If he was lucky, he'd reach Bilblox before the longshoreman froze to death.

Chapter 4: Shipwrecked

Leif Perplexon arrived on the shores of the Sea of Clouds almost two weeks after Kiril and Bilblox. This particular morning, he awoke with an aching jaw from sleeping too long on a rock. It was just minutes after dawn and the world around him was bathed in a gentle, murky light. He stood up, blinked his eyes, and surveyed his surroundings. To his left and right was a rocky shore, occupied by a smoldering campfire and the remains of a badly damaged rowboat. Directly in front of Leif was a forest comprised of enormous trees whose bark was as black as coal and whose leaves – despite the fact that it was mid-winter – were a fiery red. And behind Leif, as far as the eye could see, was a vast expanse of freezing-cold water; this was the Sea of Clouds, a ferocious body of water, nestled high in the Ural Mountains. The sea's currents, fog, and ice were legendary for destroying boats and marooning sailors. In fact, this is precisely how Leif had ended up on this godforsaken beach. He had been shipwrecked here, almost two weeks ago, and once again he found himself in a dire situation – cold, starving, and alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

Just on the other side of the destroyed rowboat lay the crumpled figure of a man who was resting under his heavy, green wool cloak. Leif knew very little about the man because he had not yet introduced himself or spoken a word of conversation. Most hours of the day, the man tended to the campfire and mumbled to himself incomprehensibly as if perhaps he were mad. At times it sounded as if the man was reciting a stanza from a poem, or perhaps an old ballad. Again and again he repeated the words, “Oh what a day to behold, when the truth is finally told.” Or at least, that's what it sounded like. The rest of the time, the man was buried under his cloak, lying perfectly still. Once or twice Leif thought that perhaps the man had died; and, on these occasions, ever so gently, Leif nudged the man's cloak to see if he was okay. Then the man would stir and begin again with his muttering.

Leif did have one dependable companion – a female companion – and currently she was bounding down the beach, in a blur of motion, howling with delight. “How can you be so happy?” asked Leif incredulously. She howled again and then nuzzled her nose into Leif's hands. “Come here Kõrgu,” he said. “You truly are a crazy wolf.” Leif regarded the wolf affectionately. She was enormous and her fur was brilliantly white. Leif felt very fond of her – not only because she had saved him from drowning – but also because each new day, no matter how grim the circumstances were, she played friskily in the surf, as if perhaps they were simply on an extended vacation at the beach.

Kõrgu nudged Leif behind the knees, as if to goad him forward, and then she tore off toward the woods. Leif followed wearily. When he caught up to Kõrgu, at the edge of the woods, he found her yelping excitedly. “What is it girl?” asked Leif, as he strained his eyes to look into the shadowy depths of the forest. Truth be told, something about the woods made him very uneasy. If pressed on the matter, he would be unable to say what
exactly
he found so unnerving. There were no signs of any animals or birds – in fact, it was the most silent woods he had ever seen – and this was part of what spooked Leif. The place was deathly still.

Kõrgu yelped again and, finally, Leif saw what had gotten her so excited. Just a short distance into the woods, no more than fifty yards away, a rich beam of sunlight illuminated a perfect cluster blackberry bushes.

“You want the berries?” inquired Leif. “Is that it?”

Kõrgu merely panted, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

“They would be tasty,” admitted Leif.

He could think of no good reason why he shouldn't just dash into the woods and gather some berries. The last food he'd had, other than some seaweed, was a small crab that he had managed to catch and cook over the fire. That was almost two days ago. And there was another consideration as well. Initially, Leif's plan had been to repair the old rowboat and make his escape from this place by sea; but, within the last day or so, he had come to grips with the realization that the boat was damaged beyond repair. Leif would have to leave this place soon and, when he did, it would have to be through the forest.

Leif sighed, crammed his hands into his pockets, and took his first step into the forests.

“The third law,” said a voice from behind him. “What about the third law?”

Leif was so surprised by the sound of the voice that he instantly leapt backwards out of the woods and spun around in one quick, fluid movement. What he saw was the man, standing just a few feet away, wrapped tightly in his heavy, green wool cloak.

“You best not enter the woods until I can remember what I have unfortunately forgotten,” said the man. He had a small shriveled face, covered with white stubble, a bulbous nose, and a set of crooked yellowish teeth. “I've been racking my brain for days but, I can't remember the third law.”

“The third law?” inquired Leif.

“Yes,” replied the man matter-of-factly. “There are three laws governing Straszydlo Forest. We were told to memorize them in school, but I only remember two of them now.”

“What are the two that you remember?”

“Well,” said the man thoughtfully, “You must enter just one person per day and, of course, you mustn't enter at night. That much I am sure of. But there is something else, something about where to look or where not to look, but for the life of me, I can't remember the particulars.”

“And what happens if you break the rules?” asked Leif.

The man shuddered involuntarily, but made no reply.

“Well it would be great if you could remember,” said Leif hopefully. “I think sooner or later we will need to cross these woods.”

“Yes, indeed,” said the man, “Perhaps if I see that other fellow I will ask him and in the meantime I shall mull this over...” Then the man began to mumble to himself again.

“What did you just say?” asked Leif.

“Oh what a day to behold, when the truth is finally told,” muttered the man.

“You just said something about the ‘other fellow,'” said Leif with exasperation. “What did you mean?”

“I was talking about the other fellow that's here on the beach with us,” snapped the man irritably. “The boy.”

The mention of “the boy” briefly filled Leif was a soaring sense of hope. Leif pressed the man for almost an hour, begging and then demanding that the man tell him more. “What boy?” shouted Leif. “What did he look like? Where is he? Speak to me!” But the man he retreated inward and was again merely muttering and repeating the same cryptic piece of verse. Leif was filled with despair and finally, in frustration, he bellowed at the top of his lungs: “Alfonso! Alfonso! Alfonso! Are you here?”

But there was no reply. Throughout that day, and through much of the following night, Leif did his best to engage the man with the green cloak – to get him to say anything at all about who the boy was. Once the man looked and said sharply, “I will tell you what I know, but first I must remember the third law, so please be quiet now so I can think.” The man said nothing else and Leif was left alone with his thoughts.

Leif ached for his son. He had spent years stranded in a cottage in the middle
of a vast labyrinth, dreaming of his family, yearning for the day when he would be reunited with his only child. Then, miraculously, it had happened. Alfonso had shown up with his two friends – Bilblox and Marta – and their wolf, Kõrgu. Together they had all traveled down the darkened tunnel that led to Jasber only to discover that the city was in flames. After that, much of what happened was a blur. Leif and Alfonso were separated as the city descended into chaos. Buildings were on fire, children were screaming, smoke was everywhere. And there was a bridge. Yes, the bridge he remembered with vivid clarity! Leif, Bilblox, and Kõrgu had ended up on a bridge that had collapsed and fallen into the water.

Leif remembered thinking that he was going to drown. He was too weak to swim; his head slipped under the water; and that's when Kõrgu saved him for the first time. The wolf had used her teeth gently and taking hold of Leif's shirt collar, she swam with him until they were rescued by a man in a small rowboat, the same man who was now shipwrecked on the beach with them.

“Get in the boat before you drown!” the man had yelled. Leif and Kõrgu struggled into the boat and, moments later, the tiny vessel was whisked into a whirlpool that sucked them downward into a underground river and out into the Sea of Clouds.

Since all of this had transpired, Leif had done little else but think of his son. Was he still in Jasber, or elsewhere? How would Leif find him? Was he even alive? As the days passed, Leif felt increasingly desperate. Then the man with the green cloak had mentioned that there was a boy on the beach with them. Leif had seen no traces of anyone else, but deep down, he felt that this boy had to be Alfonso – that he too had been sucked down the whirlpool and out into the Sea of Clouds – and it
was just a matter of time before he showed up.

The following morning, Leif awoke and found the man with the green cloak in high spirits. He stood by the edge of the woods, pacing back and forth muttering excitedly, “Yes, of course that's it, why did it elude me for so long?”

“Have you remembered the third law?” asked Leif.

“Yes, yes, yes, I have,” replied the man giddily.

“What is it?”

“Just this morning it came to me,” said the man. “It came to me and I said to myself, ‘Yes, of course, it is:
You must never look backwards
. But then, thank heaven, I realized that was not quite right – not at all. The rule was, I am of certain of it now, as follows:
You must only look backwards
. A bizarre rule, it is, but one that must be followed zealously!”

“What is your plan?” asked Leif.

“I will leave through the woods tomorrow at dawn,” said the man eagerly, “And then I will be done with this wretched beach. I cannot wait to be off of it.”

“If you are so eager to depart,” asked Leif, “Why leave tomorrow and not today?”

“Because only one person per day may enter the woods,” said the man testily. “Have you learned nothing from me?”

“I don't understand,” said Leif, “Who has entered today?”

“Why the boy has,” replied the man matter-of-factly, “He departed at first light.”

The man with the green cloak then pointed toward the edge of woods and there, in the moist topsoil, were a set of footsteps leading into the woods.

The following morning, shortly after dawn, the man with the green cloak set off into the woods by himself. He walked backwards, so that he never once looked forward, as he said he would do. The man seemed well - even merry - and he waved once at Leif before he disappeared from view.