Hesitantly, I reached for his hand. When our fingers touched, my memories suddenly rushed back to me. Asten. Together we searched for Ahmose and found him nearby. When Asten grabbed his shoulder, Ahmose looked our way. His body lit up like Asten’s, with one distinction: Asten’s body was a white so bright it was almost blue, and Ahmose’s was a softer, paler white. Both of them were different from Amon, whose skin had gleamed an almost buttery gold. I wondered if the variance had something to do with their powers or the celestial bodies they represented.
Then I remembered the token Horus had given me. He’d said the stone would not only heal me but would also help me right myself. Upon cupping the stone in my hand, everything shifted. My body moved in the water as if an unseen force were pulling me. The three of us began moving, but not under our own power; it was the water. Just as the three of us united, it rushed around us so forcefully I had to close my eyes.
I could barely see Asten or Ahmose through the cloud of my hair, but their gleaming auras still lit the surrounding water, so I knew they were close. Daylight beckoned us upward, and just when I could no longer hold my breath, we broke the surface.
Tia? I tried to reach out to her, but she’d been silent since our fight. I mentally searched for her but couldn’t sense her presence. I realized then that it had become increasingly difficult to find her when she didn’t want to be found.
My worries over Tia had to take second place, though. The first thing we needed to do was get the salve from the tree to save Asten. We just had to figure out which tree in the forest was the mother tree. Scrambling to shore, I stood up, vigorously shaking my body to get the excess water off and wringing out my hair, feeling disgusted that I’d kept it so long. I knew should shave it off or, at the very least, cut it. It was a mess, and the long strands were getting in the way.
Tossing it over my shoulder, I immediately checked all the weapons, dumping at least a gallon of water from the quiver of arrows. Crouching down to Asten, I pressed a hand against his brow. His skin was cold; I wasn’t sure if that was natural for him in the netherworld or if he was truly close to death. “We’ll find the cure,” I whispered. “And this misery you feel will float away like the passing water of a deep river.” I frowned. When did I become so poetic? I was rewarded for my eloquence, however, as Asten took my hand, gifting me with a soft smile that deepened the cleft in his chin. I returned his smile but then shook my head slightly and withdrew my hand. “Ahmose, we’ve got to find the mother tree.”
“I’ll go,” he volunteered. “You should stay with Asten.”
“No. You’d better let me. This forest is the same one I traveled to in my dreams”—I glanced down at Asten, whose eyes were openly watching me, studying me—“with Amon,” I finished. And something about saying his name out loud made me feel guilty.
Asten turned his head. “Let her go,” he said quietly to Ahmose. “But if you’re not back in a few hours, we’re coming to find you.”
I nodded in agreement, though I knew Asten wouldn’t be moving from his current position anytime soon. He was no longer looking in my direction regardless. “A few hours, then.” Rising, I headed off into the forest, memorizing the scents that would guide me back to the place I’d left them.
Skirting the wide pool, I scanned the surrounding trees, wondering what a mother tree looked like. I imagined it to be the oldest tree in the forest, and the trees near our camp were at most ten years old, at least by my way of reckoning the flora at home. Also, the leaves on the younger trees were a brighter blue.
Knowing I needed to find an older section, I headed west, looking for the darkest patches. My footfalls were soft, nearly silent, as I moved across the springy moss that grew in blue-green tufts. Muskier scents of age and death alerted me that I was going in the right direction.
The forest was eerily quiet. The normal buzz of insects or the chirping song of birds was missing. Larger animals hid in the bushes. I could hear them shifting uncomfortably at my presence, but the stench of ammonia clung to them, making them entirely inedible.
Twice I caught the scent of something that made my mouth water, and when I paused for just a moment or two, I got lucky enough to snare one of them. Quickly, I tossed its body into my sack. What I’d caught wouldn’t provide much in the way of dinner.
The forest was cold. The coldest place I’d been in the netherworld, in fact. I longed to have the sun heating my back. How lovely it would be to stretch out on the heated grass and bask in the sunshine.
Around and around the forest I wandered, but the trees I saw were young, their turquoise leaves sparkling and dancing in the cold breeze. “Hello?” I called out to any creature listening. “I’m searching for the mother tree.”
There was no answer, and an hour later, I finally found myself in an older part of the forest. This section was dark, especially in the never-ending twilight of the netherworld. Again I called out, but this time more quietly, “Hello?”
Nothing. But I could sense something watching me. I felt the telltale warmth tickling my spine.
I paused at the base of a large tree that looked very much like the one that had given Amon water in my dream. A tiny fluttering of wings caught my eye, but when I turned to look they’d disappeared.
I might have imagined it, but for a moment, I thought the overhead branches had shifted, arching over me. “Such a lovely forest,” I said with a yawn, hoping to use compliments to coax out the one watching me. “This is by far the most beautiful and safest spot in all the netherworld. A girl could almost forget all her troubles by staying here. It’s a paradise in an otherwise hellish place.”
“I don’ care!” I heard a tiny voice whisper.
I blinked and held my breath, trying to catch the words again. I would have missed it completely if it wasn’t for my super-sphinx hearing.
“So what if you like ’er? I’m not going down there.” A pause. “If we’re quiet, she’ll go away.”
Taking a chance, I said, “Is that you, little fairy?” The rustling branches were my only answer. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I added. “Won’t you please come out and talk to me?”
After a few quiet seconds a limb snapped above and a glowing object shot out from the tree. She floated down in front of me, crossing her arms as she said, “I am not little. And you don’t belong here. I suggest you move along.”
I smiled. “You look pretty little to me.”
“Oh, I’m pretty,” the fairy said while stroking her gleaming red hair and fluttering her nearly translucent wings, “but I’m not little. I’m as big as you are.” She pointed her chin in the air proudly and then gave me the once-over. “Or I was once. Well, perhaps not quite as big as you are. Your hands are ginormous!” She gaped openly at my hands.
“What?” I lifted them up to study them and frowned at my fingers. Are my hands too big? Have the claws done something to them? Do I have gorilla knuckles now? I’d never felt self-conscious about any part of my body before and I didn’t like what I was feeling. I frowned at her. “My hands are perfectly proportionate to the rest of my form.”
“I disagree,” she said, flying around me in circles. She sniffed delicately. “And what’s more, ya smell a bit manky ta me, too.”
“Look,” I said. “I’ve been through a lot. I didn’t come here to fight with you either. I need a favor.”
“Ha! Told you she was after somethin’.” She shook her finger at the tree in an I-predicted-it manner. “What do ya want?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips. “Not that we’ll give it to you. I’m only askin’ so we can speed this thing up and get rid of you.”
I narrowed my eyes at the fairy. “You’re a pesky little thing. To think I almost felt sorry for you, seeing as how you helped Amon when he was dying of thirst.”
The sprite gawked at me in shock.
“It’s a trick. Don’t ya see?” the fairy said to the tree. “Her pretty words are just that. If we heed what she says, it will lead ta harm. I’m sure o’ i
t.” She cocked her head to listen, but I couldn’t hear anything. “Don’t eat the head off of me! You’re far too trustin’!” she shouted at the tree. “You’re cracked in the trunk, you are. Maybe the Devourer sent her. Did ya ever think o’ that?” The fairy spun in a circle and threw up her hands. “Fine! I’ll ask. Will that make you baggin’ happy?”
“I don’t mean either of you harm,” I said, “and the Devourer didn’t send me. I’m here to destroy her, actually. She has my…my Amon prisoner and is siphoning the energy from his heart as we speak.”
The fairy blinked. “Is Amon your fella, then?”
I nodded.
“And you said the Devourer’s got ’im?” she asked, immediately ceasing her rant.
“The two of us, we’re…connected. That’s how I knew you were here.”
The little winged girl drifted closer and looked me in the eye. “What is it you need from us?” she asked.
“My…friend, Amon’s brother, was stung by a reaper. They told us the salve from the mother tree in the Turquoise Forest would save him. I’m assuming this is the mother tree,” I said, gesturing to the leafy canopy overhead.
“Of course it’s the mother tree,” the fairy said huffily, and puffed out a breath. “It doesn’t matter, though. She won’t give you any o’ her sap.”
“What? Why not?” I asked. “Don’t you want us to save Amon?”
“I do. That is to say, I’m not happy he ended up in the Devourer’s clutches but it’s his own fault, really. If he had just stayed here, hidden, like I told him to—”
“Well, now his brother is dying. Is that what you want? Don’t you have any empathy for others?”
The fairy sucked in a breath as if she’d been slapped. Tears filled her glittering green eyes, though she refused to let them spill over, and her rosy cheeks turned even ruddier.
She took a few deep breaths, then said in a muffled voice, “I…I don’t wish Amon or his brother harm. And don’t think that I’m an ungrateful sort of person. I’m not. I’ve just learned ta be careful. You have to understand that giving up her sap weakens the tree. Her strength keeps the evil out there from enterin’ our forest. If she gives up her energy ta save him, she won’t have enough left ta protect all of us or herself. She could die.”
Letting out a small sigh, I said, “I’m sorry. But you need to understand that I’ll do anything to save Asten. I’m asking because it’s the proper way to do things, but I…I need him. He’s got to live. Anything else is unacceptable.”
“Am I ta understand that you’re threatening us now? We don’t take kindly ta threats. Especially bandied about from fresh-from-the-country girls such as yerself.”
I had no idea if she’d just insulted me or complimented me. “It’s not a threat,” I said. “It’s just the way it is.”
The sprite eyed me suspiciously.
“Look,” I said. “Just give us enough to save him. That’s all I ask. We can even stay here and camp, guarding the tree while he heals, but as soon as he does, we’ll have to move along.”
“I don’t like ya vera much,” the frowning fairy said, “and furthermore—” She stopped and jerked her head upward. “No!” she shouted. “I won’t do it, ya daft bush.” She zoomed up five feet and stared at the trunk with an expression of incredulity. The leaves of the tree quivered. “Ya can’t! Don’t do this!” she screamed, shaking her fist.
The fairy flew around the trunk, shouting and pulling on her red hair. I stood up and tried to follow her erratic flight, but then a moving branch caught my attention. It passed over my head and the thin tip of it touched the trunk. Slowly, it trailed a path downward, and as it did so, light burst forth from the trunk, splitting it open as if the branch had been pulling down a zipper.
I squinted from the brightness while inside the trunk something beat. Sucking in a breath, I realized I was seeing the heart of the tree. The gleaming orb thumped in a slow, steady rhythm. It was beautiful. The tree had gotten her heart back. She’d fought off her demons just like Asten had. I smiled, but then the thin limb pierced the tree’s heart.
“No!” I called out, just as the fairy rushed down to see what was going on.
She burst into torrential sobs and grabbed hold of the trunk. “Quickly, catch the fluid that seeps from the heart,” said the fairy. “Don’t let any of it go to waste!”
I ran up to the tree and cupped my hands next to the heart. The warm and sticky white sap flowed onto my fingers. The fairy came back just as the sap threatened to spill over and brought a huge leaf that was obviously much too heavy for her, but she somehow managed to position it under my hands. Bringing my knee up to support it, I carefully let all the sap trickle into it. The fairy held up a side to prevent it from seeping over the edge.
“Now stop!” the fairy commanded. The light inside the tree had diminished significantly. After daintily dipping her hands into the sap, the fairy pressed her glowing palms against the wound in the trunk, rubbing sap over the edges, and the deep cut sealed itself shut.
“You stupid, selfless, overly generous, chancer tree,” the fairy lamented. “Wasn’t dying once enough for you? You had ta fight so hard ta get your heart back, and now you give it away ta the first person who asks for help.”
The fairy turned to me with a glare that spoke volumes. “I hope you’re happy. Now get out of here and save Amon’s brother. If you manage to accomplish half of the things you’ve promised ta do, then I’ll be impressed. More likely, though, this precious gift will be squandered. I’d suggest using yer giant hands ta make sure not a drop is spilled. And here.” The fairy snapped her fingers and a bag materialized, its weight centered on my hip.
“What’s this?” I asked.
The fairy shrugged. “It’s not my idea. The tree thinks you’ll need it. If it were up ta me, I would have given you nothin’. And I’ll warn ya right now. If I find out you’re a forger o’ lies, I’ll hunt ya down and make ya suffer until all the shamrocks in Ireland couldn’t save ya.”
I nodded soberly. As diminutive as she was, I took her at her word. “Thank you,” I said to the tree, then turned to the fairy. “Now, how do I make the salve?” I asked, irritated with her, yet somehow respectful and grateful at the same time.
The fairy shook her head as if my question had been ridiculous. “The sap is the salve. It’s the heart blood of the tree. Now go. Crack on. And I hope ta never lay eyes upon you again.”
I nodded and rose carefully, making sure the sap was stable in the leaf. When I’d walked a few steps away, I turned. “Thank you. Both of you. I promise this gift will be remembered and will be used well. If there’s any way to return the favor, I will.”
It took me two hours to return to our camp, and when I entered the clearing, I smelled two things. The first was fire, and I was grateful to Ahmose for getting one made. If he hadn’t hunted yet, I figured we could eat what I’d brought, and then we could hunt again in the morning. Honestly, sleep was now more important to me than food. The second thing I smelled was decay. Rot. And I stopped in my tracks, a feeling of horror spreading through me.
“Ahmose, is he…?”
“Dead?” He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Then we’ll have to hurry. I hope we can save the limb,” I said. “This salve should heal him. I just hope it’s enough.” I brought the sap-filled leaf next to his leg and overturned it onto the wound. Gleaming liquid pooled slowly beneath the leaf and trickled sluggishly down his thigh. I rubbed the leaf in tiny circles, making sure to get the bulk of the sap into the wound. Asten moaned and thrashed. “Hold him down!” I shouted.
I didn’t know what I would do if I lost him.
“I’m going to wash my hands. Can you make new bandages?” Ahmose nodded and I headed to the pool and thrust my hands under the water, scrubbing hard.
The gleaming liquid fizzed and bubbled, creating a cloud of light beneath that slowly dissipated. Where the sparkling water lapped the shore, tiny green things began to glow, and as they
did, they grew. Little plants stretched out their vibrant leaves and the moss thickened and spread. I watched in fascination and then raced back to Asten.
Ahmose was wrapping his leg. “His fever has broken already,” he said. “Your salve appears to be working.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not too late.”
Finishing up, Ahmose stood and stretched. “What’s that?” he asked.
“What?”
“What’s in the bag? You didn’t have it when you left.”
“Oh. It’s something the fairy gave me. That and some kind of forest creature I caught.”
“Fairy?”
“Yeah. It’s a long story.” I pulled the tie, freeing the bag, and opened it. “Food!” I said. Inside was an assortment of nuts and dried fruit. “The tree made sure I took it, along with the sap.”
“We’ll have to thank her,” he said as he reached into the bag for a handful. He handed me a skin of water as well, and I could tell from the thick fabric folds of cloth that he had made it and likely filled it from the pool of water. Several others sat at the base of a fallen log, plump and bursting with precious liquid.
Ahmose suggested we take turns keeping watch, and offered to keep an eye on Asten while I slept. I was so very grateful, and had just allowed sleep to creep up when a thought occurred to me. I remembered that there was no way I could sleep until Asten was able to watch over my dreams. The likelihood of the Devourer finding us by following my sleep self was too great to risk.
Ahmose had already wandered off, circling our little camp. Not wanting to disturb Asten or interrupt his healing process, I peeked at his wound, noting that a medicinal smell had replaced the scent of decay. It seemed to be healing at a very fast rate. He stirred.
Scooting over next to him, I pressed my fingertips over his brow to check for a fever. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
Asten cracked open his eyes. “Not as good as you’re looking.” He gave me a weak version of his cheeky smile. But it was as welcome as a monsoon after a drought. I didn’t realize how much I’d ached at the thought that I’d never see it again. “Hello there, little lioness,” he said quietly. “Glad to see you made it back. If I’d had to go after you, I’d have made you regret it.”