CHAPTER 12: MEETING

“Should we knock or what?” Aldous consulted his friends as he got closer to the door, dubiously inspecting it.

Gorken touched the giant tree’s trunk, feeling the moss beneath his fingers, “I don’t think anyone has lived here in a long time.”

“We shouldn’t force our way in…” Hedera grabbed the hems of her tunic tensely.

Bayard crouched next to the little demon, “Are you scared?”

“Of course not!” She quickly denied, “My instincts are telling me to get away from this place. That’s all.”

Malia stood in front of the door and knocked. She couldn’t have felt more out of place while doing it. The chirping birds, the enveloping breeze, the dignified tree… they all sang of an unmovable sanctuary, of a haven where even time wasn’t welcome. She was nothing but a disturbance, disrupting the balance with her brutish motions, even though she had been as delicate as someone knocking on a door could be. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

Gorken tried next. His resolute pounding made Malia wonder whether he didn’t share her apprehension or he was overcompensating for it. Regardless, the outcome was the same: a silence so deep it threatened to devour them.

“I’d say no one’s home.” Aldous felt the need to mutilate the quiet pressure.

“We could…” Malia didn’t understand why she hesitated. They were there. Even if the tree was empty, the majestic structure was a finding valuable enough to be considered a treasure. And that was without even taking into account what they might discover inside it. The answers they sought could very well be within their literal grasp. So why was she so averse to going in? Why had she stopped her sentence part way through? She wouldn’t allow fear to sabotage her, “Let’s go inside.”

She pushed the door and, to everyone’s surprise, it simply opened with a low creaking sound.

The first to go in was Malia, and her human companions followed closely behind her. They left the gate open as a light source to subdue the thick darkness within. The first thing they encountered upon entering was a large wooden table; its surface hosted a mass of diverse objects bound by a stiff layer of dust. From books and scrolls to spoons and knives, everything shared a space in the chaotic huddle. The inner walls of the tree were loaded with shelves and ledges, and just like the table, they held numerous, varied items from times that eluded them.

As their trespassing deepened, they were forced to cover their noses and their mouths, to protect them from the dirt permeating the air. The young group was prudent enough not to touch anything; Hedera and Licorice watched restlessly from the outside, leaning on the door frame of the entrance.

They pressed on until they reached a passage in the farthest point from the entryway. Even though it couldn't have been too long, given the total perimeter of the tree’s trunk, the heavy blackness that coated the corridor hid its bottom. The almost deliberate creaking of the wood made it even less inviting. Malia turned around to stare at her companions, and only the twins disagreed with their silent consensus to proceed.

After long moments of standing still, the first step was a joint exertion, one of those things you only do because you know others are doing it with you. And before they could take a second one, an incredible force pushed them all backwards. It was as if someone or something was physically shoving them back, but they couldn’t see anything in front of them.

Malia stepped forward once more, alone this time. Her failure at holding her ground against the unknown force irritated her irrationally, and thus she disregarded her team and the time it might take to agree on a course of action. Her selfish anger faded when, in response to her defiance, a second wave much stronger than the first one pushed them all back, almost throwing them outside.

“Ugh!” Aldous groaned, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor.

“We warned you!” Hedera yelled from outside the tree, “Just get out of there!” Even she and Licorice had been launched back, and they were now away from the entrance.

“What in the world was that?” Gorken questioned as he rose.

A guttural, penetrating voice provided a single word as an answer, “Out.”

“Who’s…!” Before Malia could formulate her question, a third wave of unstoppable energy drove them out of the tree. Their tumbling expulsion left them disoriented, but they grasped their position in time to watch a figure emerge from the dark passageway; it slowly crept across the wooden room and when it reached the doorway, it repeated: “Out.”

“We are already outside!” Aldous screamed at it without thinking, only to immediately regret making himself the target of the glaring silver eyes inside the tree.

Malia wanted to focus on her determination to challenge the presence, hoping it would suppress the fear that coiled around her spine. But something louder than that claimed her attention: the same way she had been able to tell she was an unwanted disturbance, now the air itself seemed to speak to her of the nature of the being repelling them.

The immaterial gale was not adept at conversation, however, so it was all Malia could do to clasp her senses around the vague fragmented notions she could recognize; around the ones familiar enough to have already inhabited her psyche. Despite only discerning a long mess of tangled hair the color of silver, Malia knew it was a woman. A woman so powerful she could swiftly kill them all if she so pleased. A woman so scared of heartache she had given up entirely. A woman lonely as only an abandoned child could be.

“You’re Kadem, aren’t you?” Malia asked in a clear tone.

“Go away.”

“We just want to talk.” she insisted.

“Leave.”

“Please,” Malia couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. “Listen to what we have to say.”

“I’m done trying to help any of you. Get out of my sight.” The woman slurred her words indignantly, and when she was done a hostile gust of wind emerged from her. In response Malia concentrated magical energy on her legs, withstanding the thrust.

She knew she had no right to demand anything of the woman. She knew that if they were still alive it was because the silvery witch had shown restraint. But Malia couldn’t ignore the silent screaming of the wind, the lone one she was able to decipher… the one that asserted the impressive sorceress was a coward, a tired soul too fearful of rousing.

It was that hushed, narrow truth that aggravated the princess beyond reason. Malia’s pain, and shame, and solitude, and failings subsisted because she was weak. She had convinced herself of that. She had wormed her jagged path to strength one arduous day at a time; and even so, she was weak still. The silver woman was so strong that merely being in her presence was enough to plant unease in anyone’s gut. So why? What right did someone like that have to give up? It’s not fair. If I had that kind of power…

“What are you so afraid of?!” Malia accused her with her question.

The woman winced as if stricken, but she said nothing. The she raised a bony hand with premeditated pause. Malia didn’t have time to realize she had been sent flying backwards at an absurd speed; the abrupt motion woke her from the stupor of a scene where only she and the silver witch existed. Gorken crashed into their private little world by placing himself behind Malia as fast as he could, catching her before both of them hit one of many trees that made up the Gray Forest. Gorken bore most of the impact, and even so Malia felt as if her back was about to break.

“Gorken!” Malia wailed as she turned around, desperately aware of the damage he had taken.

“I’m fine.” He did his best to sound alright, but his voice still came out as a drowned whisper.

“Why did you catch me?” was all she could say. If she was as useless as to need protection, then why was she there? Gorken’s pained expression ravaged her heart, her courage and her pride. Aldous and Bayard were running in their direction, Hedera and Licorice behind them.

“Never mind that. We should retreat.” Gorken attempted and failed to sit up straight, “We don’t stand a chance as we are now. Let’s come up with a plan, we can’t force her to listen to us.”

Malia’s body went cold. What was I doing? Her stubborn envy had put all of them at risk. Instead of sharing with her friends the story the wind had relayed, she had made it all about herself. Again.  “…You’re right. We need to tend to your wounds.”

Aldous and Bayard placed themselves at Gorken’s sides, allowing him to lean on them. Malia picked up both her luggage and theirs, and they retreated from the clearing. Even then, the silver woman was just standing inside the tree, observing them.

In the mixture of guilt and disgrace that was her chest, Malia could feel a pressure that didn’t belong to her alone. The desolate woman was much more than the tiny shards Malia had collected, much more than those shards she could fit into her own puzzle. And yet, if instead of pricking the witch with them, she had tried to bridge the gap… When I was lost, my master told me what I needed to hear. If knowing that, she allowed herself to flee, she would never overcome it. But she wouldn’t endanger her companions for the sake of an intimate hunch.

Malia made sure they had left the clearing and the reach of the woman’s attacks before doing what she was certain was her duty. She stayed behind, turned towards the giant tree one last time, and cried out: “The world is a scary place, senseless and unfair and full of suffering. And we’re free to look the other way! But maybe… Maybe the suffering of doing nothing, of being but a passive bystander… The regret of not moving, not speaking, not doing something when we had a chance to… Maybe that’s the sole pain we’ll always have the power to avoid!”

Malia wished she had picked better words; she bemoaned that they didn’t ring as true as the feelings she harbored. After standing there, facing the ancient lair in uncertain silence, she shifted and caught up with her companions. Then, quietly, they kept walking together.

Until they heard the guttural voice once more: “Wait.”