Oriana's Eyes (21 page)

“Oriana … I know something delayed you; the sun has nearly set. What happened back there?” This time there is no humor in Tor’s face. The dimples have vanished. He wants an answer, and fast.

My mouth opens, but no words come out. I know it was my fault that we got lost in the tunnel, which is bad enough. But to tell him that a Winglarion had nearly lifted Azura and me away? That was too near a miss. “We …” I eventually manage.

“It was nothing we couldn’t handle,” Azura interrupts. “Tor, you need to have a little faith in us! We’re not children anymore.” With that she strides toward the ladder. I give a nod over my shoulder before moving after her, relieved that the pressure is no longer concentrated on me. Dorian releases my hand, hanging back to speak with Liam. I decide not to look back at them. Instead I concentrate on the rope ladder ahead.

A young girl’s scream erupts in the sky above. Azura and I jump together in surprise and then turn our faces upward. I gasp, a small figure is hurtling downward through the branches. The body collides with thin growth as it falls, narrowly missing a large bough.

“Aaron!!”
I scream, trying to halt him midair in an effort of willpower. Yet he continues to fall, his arms and legs limp, his head bent backward. He must have passed out from the loss of blood. I try to estimate his landing spot, but it is impossible. From where I’m standing it seems the pathway of his fall is leading him directly into one of the Great Oak’s mighty arms.

 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I watch in horror as the small boy, once so close to safety, now approaches death. There is no one to save him; the Great Oak’s arms were not meant for catching children. I expect the worst. How can he survive a landing at such speed?

He passes under a shadow as she is about to take him. The white wings maneuver through the air in graceful beats, speeding toward him, avoiding every branch with cunning. Her arms reach out to him, a stunning wraith, her white robes glowing within a golden aura of sunlight as he softly settles within her grasp.

She hovers for a moment before whisking forward once again, silver hair flowing past her and upward. Her body arcs in one fluid motion as she descends, the boy cradled in front of her, his head pressed gently against her shoulder. She spirals in bliss, the wind, every current a familiar companion more fitting than the ground beneath her feet. She extends her wings in the last distance, fighting the desire to pull upward once again, away from the land and further into the sky. Her feet meet the grass, toes touching first, and then she walks toward us.

Falda folds her wings behind her, subduing their urge to expand again as she has done for many years. Aaron stirs, still within the safety of her arms. Tor is at her side immediately, taking the boy from her, his eyes never leaving his mother’s face.

I approach them, my legs feeling wobbly and unsteady. The shock of the situation still affects me; so many close calls in one day.

My gaze is upon Falda and how different she appears. Her hair has settled wildly upon her shoulders, many of the neat braids creeping apart. Her robes are misshaped, creased and pulled in all directions. But despite her disorder, despite the new look of fierceness in her eyes, she is radiating with a glow of pure beauty, pure joy. To see her standing on the ground, to recall her in the platform cottage, rocking upon a stationary chair … my only perspective of her seems utterly unnatural. Her wings seem not as graceful, folded awkwardly upon her back, her hair not as alive as it folds around her shoulders. Seeing her in the air, I understand what she gave up for the ones she loved—the sacrifice she made, regardless of whether it saved her from being captured. She was never meant for this realm, but for the one above. Where the canopy is not that of a forest’s fingers, but the endless expanse of a starlit ceiling or a maze of nimbus pillows. Will my toes one day touch this soil for the last time to join her in the sky?

Falda’s attention is drawn to me as I reach her side. “Oriana, my dear.” Her growing weakness shows in her smile, and I see that the flame in her eyes will be short-lived. She smooths the hair down the side of my head. “I have waited for you to return.”

I nod, the tears already threatening to escape and a lump forming at the back of my throat. I know if I answer in words, it will come as a sob.

Falda looks toward Aaron, who is safely held by Tor. He has turned a grayish color, with beads of sweat forming upon his brow. A grim expression masks his once innocent face. Tor glances from his mother to me before striding toward the ladder with the boy. Others are already upon the ground, having witnessed the event and brought supplies from above to improve Aaron’s condition.

I turn back to Falda. “I am glad you did, for Aaron’s sake as well.” I can’t hide the shakiness in my voice, and before I can react, my cheeks are wet.

“Oriana, do not cry, I leave you now, but we will meet again.” She wipes a droplet from my cheek with her thumb.

“It’s just that … I wish you could have been free”—I gasp, still trying to hold back the tears—“in the sky like the other Winglarions. Instead of having to give that up.”

Falda smiles and looks upward, yet she is not concentrating on the sky, but the height of the Great Oak. “My life was exactly how I wanted it to be. It was my decision to remain with my son and Taurin. I have no regrets about that or my time spent at the Great Oak. After all, it is where I was able to meet you.” She looks sideways at me and then focuses once again on the tree, studying it like a close friend.

“I’ve grown to love this tree. We share the same stubbornness in our old age, but I’m afraid her body will remain long after we have all moved on. Yet that only makes me feel sorry for her; it must be a lonely existence to see so many die before you.” Falda sighs and lets her gaze fall. “I, on the other hand, have seen enough deaths in my lifetime. I am ready to move on and reunite with them once again.”

I am warmed by Falda’s words and her compassion for the ancient tree. In all the Great Oak’s magnificence there is a sorrow rooted deep within her body, something I believe all her inhabitants can sense. It is a heavy weight that we all carry with us, having faced countless deaths in our lifetimes. Perhaps together our shared sadness keeps us standing tall, refusing to be knocked down, and instead growing upward into the future with every new hopeful sprout upon the Great Oak’s branches.

Falda has lived with this weight long enough. I can see she is ready to leave this world behind, to find Taurin and her family somewhere in the sky. Somewhere far from half-bloods, part-bloods, and purebloods. Where there is no distinction between Winglet or Finlet, where the sky, land, and ocean come together, and we are all one.

I do not say anything as I reach out to embrace her, my hands brushing the softness of her delicate feathers. I hide my tears. They are the result of my own selfish desires not being met. She kisses my forehead as we separate. I take a step backward, not realizing that Tor is beside me, taking my place as he hugs his mother. He embraces her tenderly, squeezing his eyes shut like a little boy.

A hand grasps my own, pulling me backward into a warm body. It is Dorian who holds me up, and his touch keeps me from crying out.

When Tor retreats with red eyes but his back straight, Falda spreads her wings. With a sigh of satisfaction she sweeps them downward, her heels lifting up, followed by her toes. She sweeps them downward again, the rush of air flowing over us, my hair blown back from my face. Falda rises into the air. Her wing beats increase with each stroke. Her pathway is along the Great Oak’s side, as she lifts further into its branches. I am mesmerized once again by the beauty of her movements, how easily she slides through the currents. The sun strikes her wings before she passes behind a bough, the reflection virtually blinding, and then she is gone. Vanished into the canopy above.

It is today, in this moment, that I make a decision. One I cannot tell Tor, Azura, or my friends at the Great Oak, and one I can certainly not speak of to Dorian. The danger means nothing, the risk is worth taking, and failing to go through with it would mean wondering for the rest of my life. In Falda’s absence I can feel it, the loss of knowing I will never see her in this world again. I loved her, and seeing her disappear has made me experience how fleeting life can be. So many words come to mind, things I should’ve said, confessions of my gratitude for sharing her wisdom with me. Yet time cannot reverse; what is lost is lost, and perhaps it is this helplessness that causes me to choose a certain path. I decide to return to the University to find my sister, Lenora.

Dorian’s hand pressed in mine brings a wave of guilt. I know when he discovers me missing, it will cause him worry and pain. But he cannot go after me; no one can. It is days before the Rebirth, and they know as well as I do that there will be no more rescues. “How many days?”
I speak the words softly and then clamp my lips together to prevent any more. I hope no one has heard or understood the meaning of my fragmented sentence.

“Three,” Dorian answers, the shadows of the foliage above twisting across his face. Looking up at him, I see he thinks nothing of my outburst.

The sun is settling into the horizon as we climb the long stretch of ladder to the Great Oak’s first platform. I wonder if Falda has found him yet, Taurin, and if they are flying among the stars with the others of their time. I pause a moment, looking out into the expanse of sky beyond, where the sun ignites the strip of ocean and the trees become one glowing blanket. Behind me, the night sky is a dark violet, deepening into black as it rises. I notice the first stars opening their eyes to each other, sharing their radiance. I shed a final tear, somehow certain that Falda has found her own place among them.

Dinner is silent, the day’s events wearing on everyone. I sit beside Dorian, Tor, Azura, and Liam in their places around us. Three days; that gives me enough time. I will leave tomorrow evening and return that night, by early morning at the latest. If I remember the map correctly, the University is at a direct diagonal to the base of the Great Oak. I will return to the meeting hall before I leave and borrow the most accurate map I can find.

For a moment I realize the true extent of what I’m planning—to betray my friends, to lie to them, and steal from them. Yet I know they would not let me go, and it is what I need to do. Lenora is in the University somewhere. She’s still living in that environment. What if she is suffering as I did? I could never forgive myself for leaving my sister in such a place. If she only knew we are twins, then I’m sure she would change her mind. Maybe even come with me back to the Great Oak. I have to believe that she will, I at least have to try. She is the only family I have left. Right now, whether she realizes it or not, Lenora needs me, and despite whatever wrongs she’s done, I need her too. My mind is settled; I will seek her out within the University walls.

The night is short. When we have finished eating, Dorian and I return to my room. I see the relief on his face. I’m back, safe and unharmed. I avoid his generous gaze, the admiration in his eyes and the small curve of the side of his mouth. Tomorrow I will be the one to take his ease away once again.

I say nothing as he gives in to the urge to take me in his arms. It feels true, honest, as we are always meant to be. I follow him to the bed, my aching body collapsing beside him on the soft mattress. With Dorian’s hand upon the inward curve of my waist, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

I awake with a single thought: the Rebirth is in two days. I sit up. Tonight I must leave for Lenora. Dorian wakes next to me, pulling me back down to lie beside him. I shift to face him, sharing a comforting look. He strokes my hair, his eyes shifting back and forth to study each of my own individually.

“I worried about you … I couldn’t stop thinking that I might lose you forever,” he says with a look of vulnerability.

“I thought of you too,” I reply and then feel compelled to add, “But it was something I had to go through with.”

He eyes me curiously for a moment. I am speaking of the past and yet I am confessing about the future. His face relaxes. “I’m just glad you’ve returned safely.” He presses against me and shares a lingering kiss that makes it hard to even think of ever leaving him again. My spine is still tingling when he pulls away. My hand rests on his chest. I see only him and know only this moment.

I sit up quickly, shaking away my mesmerized state. He knows too well how to keep me from the rest of the world. It makes me smile to myself as I get to my feet, brushing my hair out with my fingers.

“You’re leaving?” Dorian asks, lying sideways and propping his head on his hand.

“We can’t stay in bed forever!” I remark, searching for where I discarded my sandals in the dark last night. I can’t help but notice the way Dorian is grinning openly as he shifts onto his back, folding his arms above him. He chuckles to himself in a distant thought.

I can’t resist throwing one of my discovered sandals at him. “Stop thinking so loudly!”

He jolts upright, rubbing his forearm where the sandal hit. I barely have time to react before he is chasing me out the door, one sandal upon my foot, and the other one in Dorian’s threatening throwing arm. We dash past a blurred Piper and Lily on our way to the dining hall and barely see Toby, Malise, and Aaron on the lower platform. When we’ve reached the entrance, I am out of breath, and I have the feeling that Dorian has let me escape him for most of the way. When he catches up to me, I am backed against the wall, bracing myself for whatever revenge he has planned. Instead, he kneels before me, lifting my bare foot and slipping the sandal gently onto it. I watch from above, stunned.

He straightens up again and offers me his arm, which I graciously take, allowing him to escort me into our morning meal. At breakfast he is quick to cater to my every want, and he even joins the others and me in the field where together we gather a mixture of herbs and berries. At one point he beckons, and I follow him away from Piper and Lily who are picking through a bush of berries to find the most ripened ones.

He guides me through the trees, eventually taking my hand, reminding of a time not long ago when we were together in the garden. The foliage thins, and I see a small clearing centered by a lush fruit tree, its branches bearing the reddest, plumpest fruit I have ever seen. At its base, a large root erupts from the ground, providing a perfect seat for two. I gape in wonder at its quaint beauty.

Dorian leads me to the curved root, where I take a seat, and then steps away, only to return shortly with two of the tree’s best offerings.He takes a seat beside me, handing me the redder of the two, and the scene reminds me of our shared moment just after we had escaped Odon’s caves. Is the relation significant? Will this be my last day at the Great Oak, just as the previous occurrence had begun my first? Do I follow through with my plan? Is it really worth losing all this?

Dorian must notice the strain on my features. “Is something wrong?” I shake my head, smiling, and take a bite of the fruit, the taste bittersweet in my mouth.