Oriana's Eyes Page 11

  “Oriana, come sit.” Tor smiles and gestures toward my seat. It is a larger space with Dorian missing.

  I almost feel like wiping the kindness off his face. Doesn’t he notice I’m disappointed? “Oh, actually I was just looking for …”

  “Dorian couldn’t make it,” Azura supplies. I can see she’s enjoying it. “He was too preoccupied to eat.” She looks down to scoop up an assortment of berries from her plate, ignoring my look of irritation.

  “You’ll see him tonight, I’m sure,” Tor adds gently.

  I try a smile, but it feels awkward. Instead I give a nod, eager to head away from Azura’s judgment. “I promised Piper and Lily I’d sit with them …” I don’t wait for a response before heading back toward the others. I can’t help wondering what Dorian is so preoccupied about. Why couldn’t I just ask? Demand some answers? No, I’m a guest here, a pureblood at that, and how can I possibly accuse them of hiding things from me? They’ve welcomed me, fed me, given me shelter. How can I be so ungrateful by doubting their intentions? If I could just see Dorian, then he would explain everything to me. Tonight he will tell me why their meetings are discussed in private and why even Finley and the others are kept in the dark about the details.

  I lose track of my food as well as the others talking around me. Jagger is teasing Lily about something, but I don’t bother to figure out what. The others laugh, and I look up from my plate. I haven’t really eaten anything.

  “Oriana are you all right?” Dugan asks as he leans back against the wall and folds his arms.

  I look from him to Finley, who has also looked up from his plate. I notice the others are watching me as well. “I … I think I need to get some fresh air.” I get up quickly, leaving them in silence, and head for the door. Bursting through the entryway, I run face first into a tall warm figure.

  Tor turns to face me. “Oriana, are you feeling better?”

  I give him a questioning look.

  “Anyone could tell you were extremely uncomfortable in there. What’s bothering you?”

  I go to speak, but he stops me. “Actually, I think I know what it is.” He begins to walk away, taking a route along the outside of the dining hall. He turns when he realizes I am still standing in silence. “Follow me.”

  Curiosity compels me toward him. I follow him around the platform and up a series of ladders. We pass my cottage and Dorian’s as well. I look for a light within Dorian’s but see only darkness. A voice in the back of my head whispers, Is he avoiding me? I shake the thought away.

  Tor stops in front of a building larger than the other cottages. Moving forward, he unties some straps securing the flap with one hand and guides it open to let both of us through. Once inside, I wait by the doorway as Tor works his way around the side of the room, opening the side hatches to let in light and moving air.

  In front of me sits a heavy wooden table, its surface clear of any objects. The building curves slightly like the dining hall as it hugs the tree. On this wall are a series of bookshelves, which to my surprise are filled with many volumes, all of which are different and do not repeat.

  Tor moves toward a set of shelves. “Please take a seat.” I find a spot on the table’s bench, one closest to the light of a window. In front of me, Tor is rustling through a bundle of rolled parchments stacked on one of the upper shelves. He extends his long arms to reach them.

  He pulls one from the bundle and turns to me. “Oriana, have you ever seen Odon’s Lands? Beyond them?”

  I look at him in wonder. Is it possible to actually see it all? Is there really anything beyond them? “No …” I say hesitantly, unsure what he is hinting at.

  He places the scroll upon the table and unrolls it, stretching it far across the table. I hold an edge down to keep it from curling up again.

  “This is a map, the area of Odon’s current lands, as well as the outer region,” Tor explains, although I have assumed as much.

  “I never imagined one existed. How—?”

  “It was made before Odon had finalized his enforcement. You will not find the University, but it would exist somewhere in this region.” Tor circles an area with his finger that has been drawn in as a tall forest hill. The map contains mostly forest terrain with blank canvas beyond a black line surrounding it. This is labeled simply: “Outer Regions.” Yet what is most apparent is the large sketch of the Great Oak, labeled and detailed. Showing a complete outline of its platforms and structures, our current location being one of the higher ones.

  Tor points out the thick line running around both the outside of the University’s hill as well as the Great Oak. “This is Odon’s territory. The border was drawn in later on.”

  My eyes widen, shocked to see a limit to Odon’s power. Yet I cannot wrap my mind around the full meaning of this. “Then what actually is outside of all of this? Are there others …?”

  Tor nods and my excitement grows. “But”—I hold my breath for him to continue—“this only means that they are under the control of another ruler. Outside of Odon’s lands is a world very similar to our own. So you’ll understand why we still remain within his borders.”

  The situation is not as I imagined. Tor goes on, “Yes, if you were to escape Odon, it would mean falling under the restrictions of another tyrant. One that we are not familiar with.”

  I sigh, feeling even more trapped than before. When Odon was the only danger, it was easier to imagine a way of escaping. Now it seems hopeless. “And on this side?” I point to the opposite border.

  Tor replies grimly, “The same matter, the map does not show all lands, but we can assume that others are existing in similar circumstances.”

  “But how did this happen?” I ask, frustration rising in my voice. “If there was a time when Odon did not rule, then how did he and these other rulers take over?”

  He sighs. “It is a story others can tell better than I.” I am sure he has seen the look of disappointment on my face because he quickly adds, “But I do know the one person who can share it with you.”

  My gaze alights with intrigue, “Who might that be?”

  “Falda,” Tor replies with confidence.

  My eyebrows rise. “Who?”

  “Falda,” he repeats. “My mother.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Your mother? She lives here?” I ask incredulously. Am I hearing correctly? A woman from an earlier generation, one who might have lived before Odon’s rule and can explain to me how things got to this point?

  “Yes, I’ll arrange for you to meet with her tomorrow,” Tor affirms. “I think it is important that you speak with her.”

  I nod emphatically. I have many questions to ask.

  “Now I would like to discuss the matter that I am able to explain quite well.” Tor settles himself upon the bench opposite me and rests his elbows over the map and tabletop. I lean forward, prepared to absorb every word he says. “I have noticed your frustration, and I can understand it. Especially since I have explained nothing of the conversation you overheard at last night’s dinner.”

  I watch him, feeling slightly guilty at making him divulge the community’s secret, while only living within it for little over a day. Yet my curiosity prevents me from protesting, and I keep silent, eager to learn more.

  “I guess the best place to start would be at the basis of the problem. This is no secret. Odon has taken over our homes and families. Every day we cower in his powerful grip. The Great Oak and its people represent a final hope. We are the last chance for Odon to be defeated and our freedom regained.” Tor’s eyes brighten with anticipation.

  The idea is heartening, yet I remain doubtful. It’s difficult to imagine someone as powerful as Odon being taken down by a group of young rebels.

  Tor must recognize the look of skepticism in my eyes because he continues with added vigor and assurance, “Odon is powerful, yes, but we have a secret weapon as well. Someone he will not be expecting.”

  A cloudy realization slowly creeps into my mind.
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  “The only one of us who will have the power to defeat him.” Tor’s voice is strong and determined, as if nothing could convince him otherwise. He waits for my response, knowing I have figured it out on my own.

  “Dorian,” I whisper, not actually understanding why he is the one.

  “Yes,” Tor replies with a sigh. “I’m afraid you, Oriana, will play a much greater role in all this than you know.”

  This catches me even more off guard, and I glare at him, demanding to know more.

  “Yet you cannot fully understand much of it until tomorrow.” Tor starts to get to his feet while rolling the large map. “You must first learn the time before. Then you can begin to make sense of everything.”

  “But what effect could I possibly have on … all this?” I stand, hoping to get his attention as he turns to set the map back in place. “I’ve been here for such a short time.”

  Tor glances back. “You will come to understand.” He begins to leave. “Tomorrow I will find you when it is time for your visit with Falda.” He has reached the doorway.

  “Wait.” I have one more question for the moment. He pauses to hear me. “What does the Rebirth have to do with this?”

  Tor grasps the top of the doorway. Facing me, he leans in to reply. “The Rebirth is Odon’s weakest point and the only time that Dorian will be strong enough to defeat him. If the moment passes, then it is likely we will never have another chance.”

  I nod gravely, almost wishing I had not asked the question at all after receiving such a daunting response. Tor leaves, and I sit back down, trying to figure things out. I have more information, but I feel worse. I almost wish I were still ignorant of the situation. Tor is probably not prepared to explain the details to everyone. The burden of carrying the knowledge alone must be tiring, to say nothing of having to carry out the plan.

  I recall Lily’s remark, which makes sense to me now. I should be worried about Dorian. If he does not succeed in destroying Odon, then Odon will destroy him. It’s odd trying to imagine Odon as just a man.

  Yet a burning question that I now fear to ask is why Dorian? What makes him so different? A possible reason comes to mind. He is a half-blood. Just as the other from before had said when I made it to the first platform of the Great Oak. The day he saved Azura and me. She said that him being a half-blood was the cause of his success. But what does that mean? What does his being a half-blood have to do with it?

  I get up from my seat and find myself perusing the shelves of books. An old tattered volume catches my eye, its binding worn and cracked, evidence it has been opened many times. Lifting it up, I realize it is not a book but a journal. I open the cover, hearing the crunch as the binding breaks further. Signed on the inside page is the name Narena. I can tell from the messy handwriting within that the words were written quickly. Still they are legible, and I slip it protectively into the soft pocket at the front of my robes.

  Leaving the structure, I decide to head for Dorian’s quarters. I hope that finding him there will give me some relief. I discover that a soft drizzle has begun, and the heavy clouds I glimpse through the Oak’s foliage tell of impending rain. As I take my time down the slippery platforms and ladders, my mind mulls over my secret find and what I might discover within its pages. As the rain begins, I have reached the cottages, and I slip inside Dorian’s without thinking to knock. Wringing any loose water out of my dress, I look around, allowing my eyes to adjust. To my dismay, it is empty of any life. That familiar worry creeps over me. Dorian’s room is in an upheaval, and not the result of negligence, but the ransacked havoc of someone in frustration. Baskets filled with personal items have been turned over, and his bedding is splayed in all directions. A canteen of water is dropped on the floor, its contents creeping across the ground. Even the lantern set atop a wooden dresser is on its side, staring at me in dismay. The room is unsettling to look at, much less live in, and I decide to devote the following time to tidying it properly. If this is the only way I can help Dorian, then I’ll do my best. Once finished, I leave the room, satisfied and assured that he will be pleased.

  I dash from Dorian’s to my cottage eager to get out of the rain, and light the lantern for warmth. I fall into my bed, feeling the exhaustion of my efforts. My mind is active, however, and I look at the ceiling, trying to focus my thoughts on something definite. Then I remember the journal I found. I feel for it inside my pocket and slide it out holding it above me to run my fingers along its rough surface. I sit up in my bed, reaching for the lantern to allow for better lighting. Flipping open the cover I finger through the pages, realizing that many have been torn out. The first pages have been removed but I find one that is readable.

  They’ve separated us from our families and put us into classes based on our ages. I just can’t understand how our own people could do this to us. Pearl says that it’s not their fault and that he’s controlling their minds, but I can’t believe that. I’d never do what they’ve done. I’d never let Odon take over me. Our only hope is in defying him any way we can.

  I skip through to the last passage. I notice that it has been frantically scribbled.

  I thought that all hope was lost, but maybe he can save us. We’re leaving the Great Oak now, it’s safer that way. If Odon ever found out he would surely die. I cannot believe that this was all for nothing, that his fate is no better than my own. I think this will be the last time I write. It is too dangerous to bring this book back with me, and I do not think it is wise to write down my thoughts anymore. I am hoping he will find this and maybe see who I was and became. I am sorry we must leave, but please understand there is no other way …

  A small section of the bottom page has been peeled away, and I can’t read the end of the sentence. With a sigh I close the cover and shut my eyes. I feel the sadness in their words, and it pains me to think that in some unknown way this person has sacrificed themselves. Although the story is not clear, I can’t help the tear that escapes down my check. I can taste that same entrapment of some uncontrollable destiny.

  My stomach grumbles, signaling it’s time for another meal. The sky is darkening quickly, meaning dinner can’t be far off. A knock at the entrance to my room startles me, and I set the journal aside to approach the entrance. I lift the flap back and discover Dorian standing drenched in my doorway. I guide him inside to dry and warm up. There is a grim look on his face that frightens me. How could he have changed so quickly since the last time I saw him?

  “Is there something you—”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Dorian snaps. His words leave my heart pounding.

  I hesitate, “What … what do you mean?”

  “I can tell you were in my room. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t want you to.” He avoids my gaze, and I notice the corners of his mouth twitching.

  “I’m sorry, I only meant to …”

  “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.” He looks at me for the first time, and his face relaxes. “Have you been all right?”

  I smile, feeling that the Dorian I know is returning. “Yes, I was only worried about you. I wanted to tell you that …”

  His eyes have wandered around the room and settle on the journal that I had left on my bed. “Where did you find this?” Dorian asks. His tone causes me to struggle to answer.

  “I … I … Tor showed me the hall on the platform above. There was a bookcase, and …”

  “Tor gave this to you?” There is bitterness in his words. He seems hurt.

  “No, I … I found it, and I wanted to—”

  “You have no right to look through other people’s things.” He shakes the book in my face. “This is not yours to take, Oriana …” His jaw tightens, and he looks down at me. “Just stay out of this!” Still clutching the book, Dorian rushes out into the storm, heading toward his own room.

  I realize my body has stiffened, and I relax my muscles, which only results in an irrepressible tremble. I didn’t mean to cause him so much grief. Several retorts come to mi
nd, but I sigh, recognizing that they mean nothing now that Dorian has left. I try to sympathize with his situation and the stress he must be under but my boiling anger remains. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday, and his only reason for approaching me was to tell me off? I clench my fists in frustration. Any drop of sympathy for him is wiped away, and I head out into the rain, dashing in the opposite direction toward the dining hall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  My feet slip as I hurry down the last ladder, and my knee scrapes against the wooden rung. I jump down the last distance, my hair plastered against my head and my dress heavy with water. When I round the bend of the platform, I see that I’m not the only one prepared for dinner. Piper and Lily along with Finley and the others are seated beneath the awning of the dining hall’s entrance. Finn leans against one of the stoop’s supports watching as I run toward them. My sandaled feet splash on the wooden surface with each bound. The glow escaping through the doorway proves that it is late evening, and I feel its warmth as I step up onto the porch and out of the rain.

  “Oriana, you’re soaked!” Lily says in dismay. She sits upon a wooden bench situated on one side of the door.

  “Well it’s raining,” Piper smirks. She stands upon the edge of the porch and stares into the downpour.

  Lily gives her a look and shakes her head in exasperation. “I’ll get you a towel.” She disappears behind the door flap.

  “Here.” Finn drapes a heavy brown cape over my shoulders.

  “You should really get some better clothes than that University silk,” Piper adds. “Me and Lily will find you something better.”

  Dugan and Jagger make room on another short wooden bench pressed against the face of the building, and I take a seat, pulling the cape beneath my chin and allowing a wave of shivers to pass over me.