Oriana's Eyes (29 page)
Authors: Celeste Simone
I wave back although her back is turned. “Good-bye sister,” I murmur, watching her lift into the realm above, a place I will never come to know.
As she disappears among the branches, I realize something Falda accepted long ago. There is nothing definite in this world. Not all birds were meant to fly, not all flowers meant for sunlight, and even among Winglarions these exceptions exist. My place is with Dorian and my friends. My home will always be within the arms of the Great Oak.
EPILOGUE
I sit upon a large root at the base of the Great Oak. In front of me, the forest floor is filled with many faces belonging to children of all ages, arrays of colors, and races. Their eyes are upon me, enwrapped in the story of the half-blood who saved his people from tyranny. It is a story they are familiar with as well. They have lived beneath the ruler, the antagonist of my story, a story that begins well in the past when generations before us were fighting against his oppression.
The children grasp for each other as I tell of the final moments, when the half-blood was faced with his own hatred for his enemy and the swell of new power threatened to overtake him. The ending of this story is fresh in my mind, although it has been several months since it occurred. Many suns since the land around me was void of the buildings of this community, and the hillside held nothing more than the shade of the Great Oak herself.
Much has changed since then. More smiles can be seen, even among the adults, and there is never a time when laughter does not echo through the forest canopy. There is never any distinction between bloods anymore, as we all refer to each other as the people of the Great Oak, a title we are all proud to carry. For those who are still burdened by the past, each new day brings new healing. And who wouldn’t be healed by the sight of children playing among the Great Oak’s roots, or the sounds of the forest as the wind whispers through its branches? There is joy all around, the joys of new life and continuation of the old. We live with the memories of our past, and yet they make us grateful for each new day.
I complete the story and then stand up, brushing my skirts and trying to withhold a smile as the children groan in protest.
“One more, Oriana!” A small girl tugs at the hem of my skirts, grinning sweetly.
“Please!” the boy behind her begs with clasped hands.
“Tell us of the first half-blood again!” I hear from deeper among the crowd.
I hold my hands up in defense of the growing onslaught. “There will be time for more stories later,” I remind them assuredly, and I need time to relax and regain my voice. “Until then, I think it’s time you all got back to work. There is still plenty of gathering to be done before the sun sets.” I look up at its peaked position in the sky.
A new wave of complaints follows. “But Oriana, we’re so hungry!”
“We haven’t eaten in ages!’”
I sigh, unable to turn away their pleading. “All right, go get something extra from the kitchens, and tell the cooks I said you can each have something special. But that means you have to get to work directly afterward!” I wag a finger at all of them, sounding as stern as I can.
They each give me a reassuring nod before running toward the hillside’s dining hall. Somehow I’m not completely convinced.
“You let them get away with far too much.” I look up to see Azura, her belly showing signs of the child within. She still refuses to speak of the matter, yet for some reason I believe the infant will be born with a sprout of auburn hair.
“Yes, I know; it’s a weakness of mine.” I give a rueful smile before following her back toward the Great Oak. I have work of my own to do at the meeting hall where Azura and I have been discussing the compilation of new maps. Now that most of the work has been completed at the Great Oak, our plans have been to explore the land and gain more information about the territories surrounding us. There is still the possibility of danger, so, it’s important that we become familiar with our lands.
“Oriana!”
I stop abruptly, turning to face Dorian, who is breathing heavily from a brisk pace.
“I’ve been trying to get a moment’s rest to talk to you,” he says, covering the distance between us. “I was hoping to ask you something, a fulfillment of a promise …” I look down at his hands that he’s trying to conceal behind his back. Both possess a burdened pack.
“A promise?” I ask, trying to make sense of his excitement.
“I would like to show you the ocean,” he confesses. “If you’ll join me.”
I say nothing. Instead, I snatch the pack from his hand and start for the western horizon. I only glance backward to wave good-bye to Azura.
“I guess that was a yes,” Dorian says with an amused expression, as he catches up to my side.
By the following evening, our travels have brought us to the end of the forest. The landscape opens up into soft soil that swallows my sandaled feet in warmth as I tread upon it. Dorian explains it as sand. Yet my attention is drawn onward into the expanse beyond. The endless blue of the ocean reaches far into the distance, where the sun slowly sinks into its surface. I place my pack upon the banks of sand before I approach it cautiously, watching as it flows up the land and then retreats backward of its own will. Dorian rushes past me, splashing upon the wet sand and diving beneath the murky currents.
I startle when the ocean reaches my feet, my attention having been on Dorian. The sensation is cool and welcoming, and it seems to draw me further into it as it pulls back again in its repetitive rhythm. I walk further in, concentrating on my feet as they begin to disappear at the ankles, and then my knees. A wave flows toward me, striking at my thighs and pushing me backward with startling force. I slip beneath the surface, hitting the ground below and fighting to reach the air.
A hand pulls me upward, Dorian brings me back above, I swallow the fresh air. Together we pass the evening among the waves, his grasp always there to bring me to the surface as I learn to maneuver against the roiling tide.
When night approaches we emerge from the sea, returning to our packs and gathering dry beach wood. Around the heat of a towering fire we dry ourselves and our clothing. The sky above is clear of any clouds, and the rush of the never tiring ocean prolongs its soothing song in the distance.
When I reach into my pack to pull out food and drink, my fingers touch a familiar surface. I pull out Narena’s journal, and my eyes find Dorian, whose attention is already upon me. I look at him questioningly.
“I found it on your dresser, and something told me to bring it.” He shrugs and takes a long drink from a canteen filled with water.
“This small book has been a great help,” I say, feeling as though my words were meant not only for Dorian but for Narena herself.
I open it to discover the center now holds a grouping of folded pages, the missing entries that Dorian removed. I pull out the pages, unfolding them to discover the final passage laid on top. The ending to the first passage I had read from her journal.
I read the words out loud, “
I am hoping he will find this and maybe see who I was and became. I am sorry we must leave, but understand there is no other way. Know that we love you, my son, my Dorian—neither Finlet nor Winglet, yet equally both. Only when we are joined together, those born of the air and of the sea, in a place between, does our true power blossom.
In faith and hope, Narena.”
I look up at Dorian, seeing the effect the words have on him. “It came true for her, didn’t it? The purpose of her book, the messages she was trying to bring? It all came true. Your mother and father are proud of you, I know they are.”
“I thought for so long that what they wanted was to see him die. I thought if he was gone, then all the pain of losing them would go away. But that never happened, that isn’t what she wanted, she never wanted me to hate or blame Odon. That was something I did all on my own. Even after reading her words over and over again.”
He watches the flames, lost in thought, and then looks over at me. “Oriana, if you hadn’t been there, I would’ve become him. I would’ve taken over everyone’s minds, yours included. I’m just as weak as Odon. Sometimes I fear that I’m not free of it, that I might become someone else—the person I saw through your eyes at the Rebirth, out of control, unable to harness my anger.”
“That’s why I and the others who care about you will be here.” I look down at the journal, feeling as though Narena knew better than anyone the importance of loving another. “You aren’t like Odon, you may share the same abilities, but I’ve seen you use yours for good. That’s something Odon never did.”
“But there is a thin line between good and evil. With my power”—he looks at his hands as though they were foreign—“I can heal great damage, but just as quickly I can cause it, and I believe I would if anything ever happened to you again. There are others out there, half-bloods like Odon who are thirsty for power, who desire the minds of the innocent. Defeating Odon was just the beginning; the war is not yet won.”
Dorian’s words frighten me; I know they are true. He was able to overcome Odon’s power, but that was just one adversary. There are others who could be even more powerful. There is no way of knowing. “We must be grateful for what we have and take each day as it comes. We can only do our best as those of the past were able to do. Who knows, it may be countless generations to come before we are all free. But I fear that evil can never truly be banished from this world. That is why there must always be good to counter it.”
Dorian nods. He gets to his feet and approaches me. He takes the book from my hand, kissing me gently upon the lips and then drawing back. “I think I can let go now.” He speaks to the book rather to me, smoothing his thumb along the binding. “I think that I must lay the past to rest, so that we can open the door of the future.”
He draws a deep breath and tosses the pages into the flames. The paper immediately catches fire, bits of it drifting upward with the ash. We watch as the wind carries it away, into the sky, beyond the stars, to a place—the place where we are all one.
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