I shook my head, again. “I only saw his face, and his palm.”
“His palm?”
I nodded. “When I spoke the spell, it hit him in the head. But he brought up his hand to ward it off.” I got to my knees, and stood up then, and they stood up with him.
Elias touched my arm. He looked worried. “Was there a design on his palm?”
I nodded. “A pentagram. Why?”
Elias shrugged. “A recurring dream I have. Of a hand, with a pentagram on it, raised, and I scream, and then I wake up.”
Woltan put his hand on Elias’s shoulder, and we stood there for a moment, watching the campfire that was now only a campfire once again.
Then he was waking everyone up, and Elias was throwing dirt on the fire; we broke camp in all of ten minutes.
IV
It started to rain just as we hit the road, and the rain followed us all morning. The clouds above us were so dark and full of wrath that Woltan did not discount Elias’s suggestion that perhaps the dark lord had cursed us. Soon everything we had that was not protected in a bag was soaked through and through. The rain became torrential by mid-morning, and when the road became more of a small stream, Woltan suggested we seek shelter. But we found nothing but trees …
Now I stood huddled with the others under a huge pine tree, just twenty paces from the road. The smell of sap and needles mingled with the rain, and although we were soaked, I felt a little better huddled next to the others. The pine tree was big enough for us to all stand huddled around it, and the pouring rain slowed around us. I wished I could cast a spell, to dry myself and the others off, but if the dark lord knew more or less our position, any spellwork would only make it clear to him exactly where we were.
Elias spoke then. “This tree is very very old. I can hear its thoughts.”
Kara nodded, wiping water off her face. “It’s a good tree.”
Woltan spoke then. “Let’s rest here a bit, and eat and drink a little, and then seek more permanent shelter for the night. If I remember right, we’re coming to mountains. There, even if the dark lord sends all the bad weather at his disposal at us, we shall find shelter among the rocks. If luck is with us, perhaps we will build a small fire.”
Karsten brought out the rest of the rolls. My hands were numb as I leaned back against the tree and fumbled with the roll — it was soggy, but once I got it in my mouth, chewed it up and swallowed, it brought warmth to my stomach, a warmth that spread out slowly but wonderfully to the rest of my body, until I could almost feel my hands and my toes.
I stood up then, and looked around. Through the rain I could see Karsten, Woltan and Cullen, chewing and staring out into the rain. Elias and Kara were invisible, their backs against the far side of the tree.
I heard something then — it sounded like singing, or laughter, or singing laughter. It came from all around us, and it came from above us, in the tree. I shook my head. My mind must be playing tricks on me – I was losing my marbles in the endless rain. But when I turned to the others, I saw Kara with her head cocked to the side, and then Woltan too, looking around, searching.
Elias spoke again then: “The tree is not the only thing old here; can you hear the laughing voices?”
I could hear them, through the noise of the rain; somehow they cut through the weather as though they were not part of it, or were unaffected by it. I shivered. If only I could feel as happy and carefree as the voices sounded.
There was a tap on my shoulder.
Would you join us, then?
We all looked up. Green semi-transparent people stood among the branches of the tree, beckoning to us.
The answer came from Elias of course, and it was loud and strong. If you are friendly.
The green people laughed, and arms reached down to grab and pull me up. They were hard to see, like glimmers in the air, movement in the mist. The storm clouds thundered above and lightning hit not far away. Someone must have sensed my worry, because I heard:
The storms will not hit here, no matter who controls them.
Soon we were all up on the first branch, and I tried to concentrate instead on the green people around me.
If you looked at them directly, they disappeared. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I could see them laughing and pointing and singing. I closed my two eyes and opened the third.
The world burst into color.
The people I could barely see with my normal eyes glowed like green torches when I looked with my third eye, and their laughter and speech were like fireworks, exploding from their mouths. The tree was like a small city, and we were only at the entrance. There was a gate in front of us, open, and then a spiral stairway up the enormous trunk, between the branches. Already, a few branches up, I could see a kind of room, and above it, there were more.
We had stopped for shelter underneath an enormous tree, an ancient living thing whose thoughts rumbled slowly along for those who would listen, and that held in its branches a small city full of voices raised in magical song. Looking at the trunk, not only could I hear the voices of the tree people — I could see as well how their voices sang to the tree, their voices bands of color that reached out into the trunk, mixing there with the multicolored thoughts of the tree.