The Girl of Ossetia

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

After many silent minutes, they all began the descent down the slope. They did not utter words from their stone wrought jaws as rain began to fall and the moon became blotted out by dark clouds. Arrana lifted the hood of her white cloak over her head, watching the streamlets of water roll down in front of her face from the lip of the hood. At some point of the long and slow descent, Luinil paused and pulled an iron sheathed lantern from Saelam’s pack and foreignly lit the oil, and a bright flame leapt inside. With the dim but guiding light from the lantern, they all began to file back down the hill.

At the base of the slope was a gloomy forest, whose trees were old and limbs were long and low. The sparse leaves that clung to the branches were brown and smelt of rotting wood.

They made their way along a bramble and briar bush path in which the flame far ahead cast warm tones across the gnarled lead. Passing shadows along the bark flickered and swayed with the slow movement of the group. But there, amidst the back of the weaving line – besides Cav on his pony – she felt and uneasiness, as though something was watching her from above.

The lights warm tones did not grasp her, and left her wholly in the dark, wallowing forward with just a flame ahead to lead the way. At last Arrana spoke, and it was lingering amongst the hinges of a whisper.

“How much further until a feast and rest?” Her question did not wheeze and whine to anyone in particular.

“Not long, the creatures can not travel far from their tree, for they will die if so.” Cav said from behind her, his voice weary. She nodded, although she wasn’t sure if he could see.

A well awaited stop in a hollowed out meadow came longer than what felt like three moons. The ground was a circular patch of damp dirt, laden with wet leaves and strange weeds and vines that crawled up the bases of trees. The rain had lightened and Arrana withdrew her autumn skull from the hood.

They had gathered the driest kindling possible, along with three armfuls of leaves which had stayed dry under a fallen tree. With that, they built a small fire in the center of the circle. Gathered around the small fire, wrapped in thick wool blankets; they feasted upon dried boysenberries from the summer, a pungent and rich wine, dried and seasoned venison, and rolls with raspberry jam. The taste of the buttery rolls made Arrana’s stomach lurch with the wish for her family, for her comfy bed beside her stone fireplace and her window-sill which held her letters.

She suddenly remembered her gift from Loriata, and her hands dug under her vest and cloak, to pull the shimmering rose crystal pendent. It glowed dimly in her palm, and as a song broke out, she jumped quickly to push it back under her cloak possessively. The song was merry and drained away all of the day’s hideous accounts of loss and near death. For a while, Arrana forgot simply about all of her troubles and sang with everyone. Luinil however, stood at the edge of the circle, watching the shadows, her black swathes of hair wet, and it was a wonder to the prodigy girl that she had not caught sickness.

It was then that Arrana noticed how tired she was, how weary her bones were, and the ache of her muscles throbbed deep. She took note of the large hollowed tree off to the side, which looked welcoming for a nights rest, with a pile of dry leaves at the bottom, and was certainly wide enough to recline into sleep. At the thought, her eyelids grew to lead, and her chin nodded close to her chest. Iasarith touched the girl’s shoulder, smiling sympathetically after the song had ended, signaling them all it would be time for rest.

Arrana shuffled to the tree, clambering inside with her woolen blanket. She sank down, leaning against the smooth bark of the tree, curled tight in her blanket, drifting into a heavy sleep after wishing for her bed once more.

When she awoke it was very dark, and took a moment for her eyes to adjust and brain to catch up with the fact that something was not right. She had nearly forgotten where exactly she was before slowly regaining memory of the tree she had slumbered in. She smiled, noting that the fire had probably died out and she had awoken in the middle of the night. She now made an attempt to crawl out of the gape in the tree, but her hands met the smooth bark of the tree, which was unusually cold.

She thought for a moment, trying the other side, with the same outcome. Her heart leapt into her throat and it was then she could feel something restraining her legs to the base of the tree. Sharp breaths hissed into her lungs and her fingers began to rip at the things that accordingly had become vines in her mind with no luck. She looked up out of her desperate attempts to escape whatever this tree had in favor.

A small hole, no larger then that of the button on a coat cast gleaming sunshine down into the black core of the tree. She now began to yell frantically for help, pausing every once in a while to listen, but the only thing that met her ears were the distant chirping of morning thrushes.

She began to tear frantically at the vines, ripping an arrow from its sheath and begin to saw at them, making sure she did not cut herself. Soft hissing was heard far below her as one of the vines finally snapped in half and one leg was free. She began to saw at the other vine filled with a new found fearful haste that had taints of hope behind them; and after many more minutes of sawing, tugging tearing and yelling, the vine snapped and she stood, crouched awkwardly. She pressed her face against the button sized hole, peering out into a tangled of black branches against a clear blue sky and a low morning sun. She suddenly heard the very distant and faint calling of her name, and she began to pound fearfully, screaming for them.

After hope began to drain from her marrow, and her head drooped with fear, she reached into her cloak, again pulling out the Faerie tear crystal. It glowed still, tinting the innards of the tree pink. She flipped open the top of the shaft, a soft whirring of magic coming from the glistening blue water. She dipped the tip of her pinky finger into the water after much contemplation. The water was freezing cold, and caused small electrical shocks to go through her hand. She decided rather than placing the tear upon her mouth, she brushed along the side of the bark, it shimmered the same blue for a few moments, before dimming. Arrana sat in horror, feeling dread begin to swell again, yet a sudden shriek far, far below her bellowed amongst the roots of the sickened tree. Paths of blue began to wind their way all the way across the tree, carving intricate patterns until the whole entire inside was blue. Than one portion by portion began to melt or break away with sickening cracks and thuds, and shards of bright morning light was greeted joyously by the girl. She rolled from the tree, hitting the wet leaves and let out a joyous yell. She looked at the pile of ashes, black and still slightly smoldering from the night. Imprints from where everyone had slept were still in the leaves, and the very faint – but there – calling of her name was still in the air. She tore off running, finding her way back onto the bramble path, her bare feet slapping against the hard earth. She ran as hard and fast she could, kicking up a festival of dead leaves behind her.

She was running so hard she slammed straight into Saelam’s back around a sharp corner. She slid into the mud, wheezing, tears in her eyes. They all shouted, running around her.

“Where have you been!? What happened?!” They all questioned frantically, helping her up. She trembled, telling them of the evil tree, and how she had escaped. Once she was done, she gasped for breath, looking at all of their hard faces, which all simply read ‘So many close encounters with death.’