Black Jade

Chapter 26

We rode straight from the desert into the shelter of giant trees rising almost two hundred feet above the forest floor. The air grew instantly cooler, and although the light dimmed, everything seemed strangely more clear. We all breathed more easily; the parched linings of our mouths and throats fairly drank in the moisture from the breeze wafting through the great oaks and maples. The sweet scent of flowers — anemone, tril-lium, honeysuckle and many others — nearly intoxicated us. Birds sang from all around us; I noticed Sunji's eyes grow wide with astonishment at the blue jays, yellow-breasted warblers and scarlet tangagers whose like he had never seen before, or even imagined. The four Avari, I thought, rode as if in a dream. Their terror at the mighty trees gradually bled away, to be replaced by awe and wonder.

'All glory in the One!' Maidro repeated like a mantra. 'And I have never seen such glory!'

'Out on the sand, I think we must have died,' Nuradayn said. 'And here, we've been reborn on earth a million years hence, after the desert has been restored.'

'Either that,' Arthayn said, 'or we all still remain out in the desert, hallucinating our final vision before death.'

Maidro shook his head at this as he unwrapped the shawl from his face. He breathed in deeply and said, 'No, this is real. In all my life, I have never felt anything as real, except perhaps the light of the stars. Behold those flowers, the white ones with the nine points! It's as if they hold starlight itself. Everything here — the grasses, the leaves, the bark on the trees — it all shines as from a light within!'

I smiled because I had rarely heard the taciturn Avari wax so poetic, or indeed speak so many words in one breath. Then Sunji, too, uncovered his face and smiled as he said simply: 'If this is death, give me more of it. I have never felt so alive.'

We dismounted and walked beside our horses over the soft, green grass. The power of the earth here was as palpable as the beating of my heart. Its fires did not burn, but seemed to stream into me like an elixir through my legs, mouth, eyes and the very pores of my skin. A new strength, vast and deep, touched my blood. I noticed Daj and Estrella stepping with a happier gait, while Liljana and Master Juwain got the best of their exhaustion and managed to drive the pains from their old bones. Atara, tapping her unstrung bow ahead of her to feel her way through the woods, trembled with a new hope. Even Kane seemed more alive here, if that were possible. He shook out the dust from his white hair and wiped the sweat from his savage eyes — and for a moment he stood revealed as an angel of bright and indestructible purpose.

It was Maram, however, who gave me the greatest joy. I nearly wept to see him open his eyes and croak out: 'Vraddi! Vraddi!'

I could not tell if he realized that we had once again entered one of Ea's magic woods. It didn't seem to matter. He was still alive, and even the bluebirds on the branches of the trees seemed to sing of this miracle.

After about a mile or so we came to a place where many crystals, like flowers in a garden, sprang up from the grass: rubies, amethyst, tourmaline and even diamonds. Master Juwain knelt down to examine a particularly lovely green crystal, and determined that it was an emerald. Then he turned to another nearby which looked just like it and added, 'And this is a varistei.'

Maidro shook his head in disbelief at this new wonder. I knew it must seem impossible to him that precious gems, much less magical gelstei, could simply grow out of the ground.

'But how can you tell it is a varistei?' I asked Master Juwain.

In answer, he drew out his green crystal — the one that had so nearly killed Maram.

'I can feel the life of this gelstei,' he said, holding his crystal down toward the rock garden, 'seeking out the life of that gelstei.'

Liljana, too, brought forth her crystal, and held the little whale figurine up to the side of her head. She told us, 'I can't hear Morjin breathing his filthy lies in my ears. I don't think he has power over our gelstei here.'

Her words prompted Atara to cup her scryer's sphere in her hand. She stood holding it in front of her blindfold. Then she announced, 'He can't see us here! It's as if a dark eave has hidden us from him!'

She put away her kristei, and tucked her bow into the holster strapped to her horse. Then she walked straight over to where a starflower grew beneath a huge, old elm tree. She bent down to touch her finger precisely upon one of the filamentous stamens flowing out from the center of the starflower's white petals. She gathered up a bit of pollen on her fingertip and fairly ran back over to me, crying out, 'Oh, Val — you were right! I can see again!'

Her laughter filled the forest with a music sweeter than even the trilling of the birds.

'I am still afraid to try to heal Maram again,' Master Juwain said, gripping his gelstei in his hand. 'It may be that the Lord of Dragon Fire has only turned his sight away from us for a time.'

He said that it might be enough for us to find a pool or pond, and cover Maram's outraged skin with mud. Then, if we could use the brandy to moisten his mouth and throat enough for him to drink, we might slowly bring him back to life.

'That is good, good!' a high, piping voice called out to us as if from nowhere. I fairly jumped back five feet as a small, nut-brown man stepped out from behind an old oak tree. He wore a skirt of some silk-like fiber, and nothing else. It seemed that he had been eavesdropping on us. 'But it would be better, better for Anneli to tend to him.'

He presented himself as Kalevi, and said that he had been sent to take us to a place of healing deeper in the woods. There gathered many of his people, whom he called the Loikalii. He spoke with a strange accent so thick and lilting that I could barely make sense of his words. He gave us to understand that the Loikalii had been anticipating our arrival for many days.

'Those who come out of the desert,' he told us, 'are always burnt like unwatered plants, and always need healing.'

'Then have others come here before us?' Master Juwain asked him.

'Other giants, do you mean?' Kalevi said, looking up at Master Juwain, who was not a large man. 'No, no — they do not come. Never, never. But sometimes, we Loikalii go out into the desert. And sometimes, we even return. Now, come, yourselves, before it is too late for that one.'

So saying, he pointed at Maram, who lay on his litter savoring the dram of brandy that Liljana had slowly dripped into his mouth.

There was nothing to do then except to follow Kalevi through the forest The four Avari all seemed amazed that our story of little people and giant trees had proved true. We walked in a line strung out beneath the leafy boughs above us. By the time we had gone another mile, the trees seemed to grow even higher. More flowers adorned the grass, and the lights of the Timpum appeared and twinkled brighter and brighter. These strange beings, with their swirls of ruby radiance, silver and many other colors, were everywhere. Sprays of gleaming amethyst filled the buttercups and tulips; splendid teardrops, like sapphire necklaces glittering in the sun, encircled the trunk of a maple sapling and a much larger birch. Some of the Timpum were as tiny as particles of diamond dust, while others encompassed whole trees like a raiment woven of pure light. No two of the Timpum seemed exactly the same, any more than the face of one man exactly resembled that of another, even though they be twin brothers. All of the Timpum, however, blazed with a deep and beautiful life. They spun and danced all around us, in all their fiery millions, in sheer delight.

Master Juwain, never one to offer up simple explanations where an arcane verse would serve as well, looked from the mystified Sunji to Maidro and then at Nuradayn as he recited an old, old rhyme that my companions and had heard more than once:

There is a place 'tween earth and time.

In some forsaken desert clime

Of woods and brooks and vernal glades,

Whose healing magic never fades.

An island in a sandy sea,

Abode of secret greenery

Where giant trees and emeralds grow,

Where leaves and grass and flowers glow.

And there no bitter bloom of spite

To blight the forest's living light,

No sword, no spear, no axe, no knife

To tear the sweetest sprigs of life.

The deeper life for which we yearn,

Immortal flame that doesn't burn,

The sacred sparks, ablaze, unseen -

The children of the Galadin.

Beneath the trees they gloze and gleam,

And whirl and play and dance and dream

Of wider woods beyond the sea

Where they shall dwell eternally.

'I have changed a few of the words,' Master Juwain told Maidro and Sunji, 'to suit the circumstances of this Vild. As for the Timpum, they are all around you, though you cannot see them. But they are of the same substance, I believe, as Flick.'

At this, Flick suddenly flared into sight. The Avari gazed at him once more in wonder. So did Kalevi — but for different reasons. He cried out, 'One of the Bright Ones walks with you! How is it that you can see him?'

I told him of how Master Juwain, Maram, Atara and I had found one of the Lokilani's Vilds in faroff Alonia and had eaten the sacred timana, which had gifted us with vision of the Timpum.

'Good, good!' Kalevi said. Then he swept his hand toward Sunji and the other Avari and added, 'But these men did not eat the timana, yes? And they behold the Bright One, even so. Why? Why? It must be because he is so bright — the brightest I have ever seen!'

As he spoke, the bits of light making up Flick's form blazed like tiny suns. Glorre radiated out from his center and filled the woods.

'This color!' Kalevi cried out. 'We have seen it before, but never here — never, never! The Loikalii must look upon this one! Come, come!'

He urged us onward, beneath the giant trees. With every furlong that we walked deeper into the woods, they seemed to grow even higher. We came upon the first astors, much smaller, but more beautiful than even the white birches, for their leaves shone golden and their bark gleamed with the soft shimmer of silver. Some bore clusters of timanas: small, round, golden fruits, sweet to the tongue and even sweeter to the spirit. Their flesh could open doors to another world, but could also kill.

At last we entered a glade ringed with silver maples and filled with lovely astor trees. The Loikalii had all gathered there — all who lived in this Vild, or so Kalevi said. Three hundred men, women and children dressed much as Kalevi spread out in a great circle to welcome us. In our entrance to the Alonian Vild, their kinsmen had aimed arrows at us; these people, instead, held out to us their small, brown hands cupping gourds filled with water. 'We have been waiting for you,' a regal-looking woman called out to us. She stood in front of the ring of her people. She seemed of an age with Liljana, with graying hair and wrinkles creasing her wise face, but her eyes were as green and as full of life as spring leaves. She- presented herself as Maira, and told us: 'Our water is yours.'

These words made a good impression on the Avari, who bowed their heads to honor Maira and her people. The Loikalii closed in upon us then, and we spent some time accepting the gourds from them and drinking water as sweet and cool as the sap running through a tree. Then Maira presented to us a beautiful young woman named Anneli, who was taller than most of the other Loikalii. Her hair flowed in black waves over her shoulders and back, and she wore a great green stone around her neck. I sensed that this crystal must be a varistei; so did Master Juwain. When Maira announced that Anneli was a great healer, Master Juwain inclined his head toward her in respect.

'Anneli,' Maira said to us, pointing at Maram, 'will take the burnt one inside her house to be made whole again — if it is not too late.'

'Vraddi,' Maram croaked out from his litter as he looked up at Maira. Then his gaze fell upon the lovely Anneli, and his voice grow louder: 'Vraddi!'

Anneli misunderstood what Maram was asking for. She came over to him and held out her slender hand to keep back one of the Loikalii women trying to get Maram to drink from her gourd. Then Anneli tenderly brushed back the filthy hair plastered to Maram's forehead. In a voice like a song, she piped out: 'This flower needs much water, but too much too soon will drown him.'

Maira nodded her head at Anneli, and then looked at my companions and me. She told us, 'Houses have been made ready for the rest of you. You must sleep now, and eat and drink, and then sleep some more. And then we will speak: of the Burning Lands and the Bright One you call Flick — and of the Dark One we call Asangal and others name as Ang Ar Mai Nyu. And of his disciple, the Morajin. Until then — and after, after! — the Forest shall be your home.'

While the Loikalii men and women melted off into the woods to gather nuts and fruits, which was most of their work, Kalevi escorted us to a little lake, where we stripped ourselves naked and used fragrant leaves to wash the grime from our bodies. He gave us garments — tunics woven of silk — to wear. Then he led us a short distance to our 'houses'. These proved to be nothing more, and nothing less, than the hollowed-out trunks of huge living trees called olindas. As Kalevi told us, his people had little need of shelter, for the Forest never grew very hot or very cold. Even when it rained, the canopies of the oaks and other great trees protected them. A few of the Loikalii therefore lived their entire lives outside of their houses, but most of them liked to sleep inside the wooden walls of the olinda tree.

'The trees give us their strength,' Kalevi said to us as he stopped near one of the towering oilndas. 'As they will to you.'

A sort of doorway almost wide enough to ride a horse through opened through the trunk of one of the olindas, which must have been a hundred feet around. Its dark interior seemed to have been scooped out, though Kalevi gave me to understand that these trees grew this way mostly of their own accord, with very little help from the Loikalii.

'We do not shape these trees,' he told us, 'but deeper in the wood, you might see the bonsails, which are almost as beautiful as the astors. Now, come, come! — rest, as Maira has said!'

He left us to make ourselves comfortable inside our three houses. After seeing to the horses, the Avari went inside a great olinda. Atara, Liljana and Estrella shared the shelter of a second tree, while Kane, Daj, Master Juwain and I set up inside the third. There was little work for us to do. We had no need even to roll out our dusty, stinking sleeping furs, for the interior of the olinda had been lined with a thick carpet of leaves, and mats of woven silk laid out on top of them. Someone had stocked our new home with gourds of water and others full of fresh fruits and nuts. We had to share our simple living quarters with the spiders and insects who also dwelled there, but we were all so tired that we didn't mind this web-spinning and buzzing company.

And so we all lay down to take our rest — all of us except Master Juwain. He bore a heavy burden of guilt at having so nearly killed Maram with his crystal, and he would not suffer Anneli to try to heal Maram alone with her varistei. Anneli, a woman of generous heart, gladly invited Master Juwain into her house. While we slept, the two of them spent many long hours tending to Maram.

For the next three days we did little more than eat, sleep and walk through the Loikajii's woods. Liljana could not even manage to wash our sweat-stained clothing, for the Loikalii insisted on soaking our woolens in water full of the same leaves with which we had washed ourselves. They brought us water to drink and a never-ending supply of delicious things to eat. After they over came their fear of our horses, they even took on the task of watering them with their own hands.

We saw Master Juwain only twice during this time, and Maram not at all. One evening, Daj stole close to Anneli's house, but was not allowed inside. He later told us of flashes of emerald lighting up the tree's interior, and of Maram calling out softly for water. On the fourth day after our entrance into the Vildi Anneli and Master Juwain emerged to tell us that Maram would be all right. On the fifth day, Maram himself walked out of Anneli's house under the power of his own two legs. He was nearly naked; like the Loikalii, he wore only a narrow band of a skirt that barely covered his loins. His flesh, no less his eyes, gleamed. I could hardly believe the wonders that Anneli and Master Juwain had worked upon him.

He stood boldly without shame so that we could regard him. Although he was much thinner than when we had set out from Mesh, he was still Maram: thick of bone and thew, and radiating a raw, rude vitality. All the sores were gone from his flesh — all save one. Neither Anneli nor Master Juwain had been able to heal the terrible burn that Master Juwain's gelstei had seared into his chest. A large leaf covered this wound. But the rest of Maram's skin, even his hands, had taken on their usual ruddy color and showed little of the more angry red of a sunscalding or other burn.

Maram gazed at Anneli as if utterly enchanted by this lovely woman who had healed him. His desires had obviously moved on from brandy to more fiery things.

Maira ordered a feast to celebrate Maram's recovery and to honor us. That evening, we gathered beneath the astor trees, whose leaves gave off a soft, golden light. The whole tribe of Loikalii sat themselves down around many large mats placed throughout the grove. As at our other feasts in the other Vilds, these mats would serve as tables on which the Loikalii set bowls full of their simple yet sustaining food.

'In many ways,' Master Juwain remarked as we and the Avari joined Maira, Anneli, Kalevi and several other Loikalii around a particularly large mat, 'these people are quite similar to their kinsmen. But in other ways. .'

His voice trailed off as Maira shot him a sharp, penetrating look. She seemed much more knowledgeable about us, and the world outside, than the other Lokilani whom we had met. Although she exuded congeniality and sweetness, I sensed that she could also be as forceful and determined as any of Ea's queens. When we had finished filling ourselves with nutbread and honey and other delicious things, she passed me a gourd full of elderberry wine with a graceful motion of her hand and the most radiant of smiles. She would not abide Master Juwain's protestations that Maram should be denied strong drink; she passed Maram wine too: more than one gourd's worth, and then more than three. She seemed not to mind the way that Maram gazed at Anneli, though a couple of the other Loikalii present could not countenance his obvious infatuation. She smiled at him in amusement and then directed our conversation toward matters that we had put off discussing for five days.

'Tell us, Val'Alahad,' she said to me, 'of yourselves and your journey.'

And so I did. While the Loikalii at our table and the others nearby turned toward me, I told of our quest, as much as I thought wise. The hours flowed into evening, and evening turned toward night. The radiance of the astor leaves lit the grove, and it fell cool. No mosquitoes, however, came out to Be the Loikalii's nearly naked bodies. It seemed that they allowed into their woods only those living things that pleased them. Other things, however, darker things, they could not keep out.

'We have seen the Morajin,' she told us. 'The Earthkiller, our cousins call him. The Burning One that you call the Red Dragon: he burns, inside, as if his blood is on fire. It is worse than the scorching of the sun, for that can destroy only flesh. But the Morajin's soul! It is all black and twisted, like a worm dropped onto hot coals. We have seen this! He would kill all that displeases him, even the best of himself. He sends his armies throughout all lands, killing and killing until the earth cannot bear it. Soon, soon, we fear, all of the earth's trees will be cut down and her soil burnt barren. It will be as it is in the Burning Lands outside of the Forest.'

She seemed to blame the desolation of the desert on Morjin, and on his master, whom she called Ang Ar Mai Nyu. How she knew of either of them — or of anything outside of her woods — was not clear. I could not imagine any of her delicate, gentle people crossing the desert to lands so faraway and forbidding as Sakai in the heart of the White Mountains.

Her words disturbed all of us, and Master Juwain especially. He rubbed at his smooth scalp as he looked at Maira and said, 'Surely the desert has causes other than the hand of the Red Dragon. Why, the Crescent Mountains, to the west, which block the moisture from the ocean. The pattern of the winds, which blow — '

'The winds blow enough moisture our way,' Maira said, cutting him off. She smiled at him nicely, but I could tell that she had little patience for his perpetual questioning and turning things over and over in his mind. 'Grass could grow where now there is only the sand. And more moisture could be summoned — enough to make the Forest grow across the whole of the Burning Lands.'

Here she glanced to her right at an old woman named Oni. Oni had white hair and withered breasts, but her eyes still held much life. She cupped between her hands a small, bluish bowl that looked something like frozen water. I wondered immediately if it were made of some kind of gelstei that I had never seen before.

'If you can truly summon the clouds,' Master Juwain said, addressing both Maira and Oni, 'as it seems you can, then why hasn't the desert been made green again?'

'The Loikalii,' Maira said to us, 'long, long ago were sent to this place to re-enchant the earth. A great evil occurred here, long past long ago. It opened up the earth to the deep fires, the black fires which scorched the soil, out and out across the Burning Lands.'

Master Juwain nodded his head in deep contemplation; I could almost hear him wondering what kind of evil event or sorcery could have channelled the telluric currents so as to create a wasteland hundreds of miles wide.

'But you have succeeded here,' he said, looking at the astor trees above us. 'I have never known a more enchanting place.'

'We have not succeeded here,' Maira said. 'We have sent our people out on the sands to plant seeds so that the Forest might widen. All have failed. Even in this place, if we did not fight to make the Forest grow, the trees would wither and die and be lost into the sand.'

She went on to tell of an ancient dark thing, perhaps a crystal, buried beneath the soil somewhere on earth. She said that it had the power to draw life from the earth and allow its inner fires to burn unchecked and wreak destruction upon all things. Kane scowled at this, and his eyes found mine; it was obvious that Maira must be speaking of the Black Jade. I recounted then of our crossing of the Skadarak and what we knew of this powerful gelstei.

'The Black Jade,' Maira said as she looked from Oni to Anneli and then back at me. 'You have named it well. We have felt how the Morajin seeks his way deeper and deeper into its heart. We know that Ang Ar Mai Nyu aids him. Why, why, we have asked ourselves? Soon, we fear, the Morajin will loose the earth's fires and burn open the very sky. Then the evil that created the Burning Lands will blight the stars. Their earths — so many, many! — will be burnt too. The Forest that covers them will die. It will be as you said it was at the heart of the Skadarak: everything blackened and covered with bones. And then it will be as it is here, beyond our trees: nothing but burning sands, Everywhere and forever.' I gazed at her in wonder of how her dread of the future so nearly matched my own. Then she took a sip of her wine and shook her head furiously. 'But we must not let this be! If the Morajin gains power, utterly, over the Black Jade, he will invade the Forest. First with his eyes and with dark dreams. And soon after, with steel and fire.'

Here she glanced at the hilt of Kane's sword and shook her head in loathing. A similar look on Oni's face told me that, in some ways at least, the Loikalii did not welcome our presence in their woods.

I took a sip of wine, too, and then said to Maira, 'You know a great deal about matters of which we have learned only with difficulty. And that few others even suspect. How, then? Are there scryers among you?'

Maira looked quickly at Oni, who spoke in a cranky, quavering voice saying, 'Do you see, Maira? I told you they would want to know.'

Oni's angry, relentless stare seemed to disconcert Maira, who glanced at Atara and said, 'No, none of us can see the future, not as you can. But sometimes, we can see things far, far away.'

'How, then?' I asked again.

Now Oni stared at me as she shook her head. She said to Maira, 'No, no — they mustn't see!'

Her hands gripped her crystal bowl, and I suddenly knew that it had been Oni who had sent the sandstorm that had so nearly killed us. There was something wild about this old woman, I thought like the wind. I sensed that she acted by the force of her own will and no one else's, not even Maira's.

'I believe that they must see,' Maira said to her. 'How else are they to find the Shining One they seek? And how else to keep the Morajin from using the gelstei they call the Lightstone?'

'No,' Oni said, as stubborn as a stone. 'The giants are clumsy and stupid, and bring an evil of their own into the Forest.'

She stared at the hilt of my sword; after a while, she raised up her angry old eyes and stared at me.

'They are not stupid,' Maira said to her. 'And whose heart is wholly pure?'

'No, no — they must not see!'

'I have seen this,' Maira said to her. 'And you have, too; that the time is coming when either the Forest will grow across the Burning Lands, or the Burning Lands will devour the Forest — and soon, soon. Which will it be?'

While the evening deepened, they argued back and forth, but no word or reason from Maira could prevail against Oni's obduracy. And then there occurred a miracle beyond reason or resistance: Flick fell out of the night like a comet. He hovered in the air radiating an intense glorre. This light seemed to draw many other Timpum from out of the trees around us. It touched them so that they glowed with glorre, too. Then these thousands of splendid beings passed the fire back to Flick so that he blazed ever brighter. Back and forth it passed, many, many times. Flick feeding the Timpum and they feeding him until the whole host of little lights shimmered with great brilliance.

'Do you see?' Kalevi cried out, pointing at Flick. 'The angel fire — I did not imagine it! The giants call it glorre!'

'Glorre! Glorre! Glorre!' the many Loikalii at their tables chanted.

'It is a sign!' Kalevi cried out again, turning to Oni. 'You must take them to the Water!'

'Take them! Take them! Take them!' his tribesmates chanted.

I drew my sword and held it up toward Flick. Its mirrored surface seemed perfectly to reflect his fiery form. Whether it picked up the glorre pouring out of him or shone from within with this singular color was hard to tell.

'All right,' Oni said at last as she gazed at my sword. I saw for the first time how lovely her eyes really were. The ice inside her seemed utterly to have melted. 'In the morning, I will take them to the Water. But now, we should eat the flesh of the angels — and dance and sing!'

She smiled, and years fell away from her. Then bowls full of golden, ripe timanas were brought forth so that we might eat the sacred fruit and deepen our visions of the Timpum, and all living things. Daj and Estrella, to their disappointment, were not allowed to touch the timanas, for the Loikalii counted them as children even though they stood as high as many of the Loikalii women and men. Sunji, Maidro, Arthayn and Nuradayn, however, each picked up a fat, gleaming timana. Maira warned them that the very taste of it sometimes killed. Sunji, speaking for all the Avari, said that they would risk it. As he put it: 'We have borne heat, wind, sand and sun to come this far. It is said that if a man dies in the desert seeking visions, he doesn't really die when he dies. And so we will gladly eat these fruits that you have given us.'

And so he did, along with the other Avari. That night, none of them died, nor did anyone else in the grove partaking in this part of the feast. The Avari finally beheld what we had looked upon for several days but could never take for granted: the millions of Timpum in their glory, gleaming as brightly as the stars and whirling ecstatically in and out of the astor trees. Old Maidro, upon standing up to dance with us and the hundreds of Loikalii forming up into circles, laughed like a young man and called out: 'I'm still alive, but I'm finally ready to die!'

Later that night, after it came time for rest, we returned to our olinda trees. Maram, though, did not come with us. He claimed that Anneli had yet to heal him wholly, and so he would sleep inside her house so that she might bestow upon him her gifts.

Just before going off with her, he took me aside and draped his arm across my shoulders. His breath, heavy with the vapors of elderberry wine, blasted into my face as he said, 'Ah, Val, there is healing and then there is healing, do you understand? Maidro might be ready to die, but I'm not. No, no — it's time I truly lived again.'

And with that, this irrepressible man who had come so close to breathing his last breath, walked off into the woods happily singing his favorite song.