Oriana's Eyes Page 13

  “Piper …” I call, still staring at the figures.

  She looks at me and follows my gaze. In an instant she is on her feet, pressing her fingers to her lips and giving an ear-piercing whistle. I watch as the children stop their game immediately. Piper’s whistle is taken up by the others around her, and youths from all across the field run for cover.

  Finley appears beside me, takes me roughly by the arm, and forces me into the forest foliage and to a kneeling position behind the line of bushes. Once the last part-blood escapes the field, the group is completely silent. Piper and Lily have taken shelter beside me, and we all try to slow our heavy breathing. After what seems like an hour, an unusual birdcall is heard from the forest at the opposite end of the field. Piper imitates the call, slowly rising from the ground and heading toward the field.

  Once her call is answered, Piper turns. “Okay I think it’s safe, but no more games, everyone should be working and watching the skies. There’s no telling if they’ll return.”

  A few of the younger children groan or kick the dirt but comply as they walk back into the field. Others inch out slowly, glancing upward every few seconds.

  I stand addressing Finley and Lily in confusion. “What exactly did I see up there?”

  “They’re members of Odon’s army,” Lily states as if the answer is obvious and without need of explanation.

  “Army? I didn’t know—” I begin.

  Finley speaks gravely. “The real question is why they were passing over now. They’ve changed their flight pattern, which is not a good sign.”

  “It could mean anything.” Tor appears standing behind Finley. He winks at me from over his shoulder.

  Finley shakes his head. “You know as well as I do that Odon rules in orders, and the only way those brainwashed followers will stay loyal is if he’s consistent. He doesn’t take risks easily.”

  “Warning taken.” Tor puts his hand up in defense. “But I doubt that Odon will be taking much of anything after long.”

  At this Finley rolls his eyes and strides heavily away. I can’t help but worry that Finley’s words might have some truth to them.

  Tor watches him leave and runs his hand through the curls of his hair. Finally he turns to me. “Oriana, I came for you. My mother is ready to meet with you now.”

  I nod expectantly. I’m hoping many of my questions are about to be answered.

  I follow Tor back to the Great Oak, where the long ladder is waiting for us. Each climb becomes less terrifying. In fact, as I step higher up, I venture a glance below me and gasp at the height. I can see the tops of many of the other trees which have sprouted in the shadow of the Great Oak. It truly is an ancient and magnificent tree.

  Once we’ve cleared the first platform, Tor brings me up successive ladders to the uppermost level. There are small cabins here as well, home to the Oak’s many residents. I follow him to the very end of the platform where a cottage sits slightly set back from the others. Its windows have been propped open to let in the sun. Tor reaches the entrance and knocks upon the shelter’s front wall. A soft voice from within calls, “Come in.”

  Tor looks over his shoulder at me. “You may enter; don’t be shy. She’s the only other pureblood you’ll meet in the Great Oak.”

  My eyes widen, and I find my feet propelling me forward. “But you said I was the only pureblood,” I whisper as if I ought to hide the conversation from the woman inside.

  “I said Winglet …” Tor gives a wink and then heads away, leaving me to face the doorway alone and wonder what the difference is.

  I take a deep breath and duck inside. The room is dark but cool, smelling sweetly of fresh flowers that I notice are set in vases upon every surface. There are different projects set in every corner. A partially complete, intricately woven basket lies upon a set of shelves. Another area holds cloth supplies and the workings of various dresses, one dyed the color of lavender. Next to it is a beautiful wreath made of dried flowers and leaves. Amid it all sits Falda.

  Her impressively long hair is a bright white and has been crafted into braids of all sizes; one wraps around her head like a crown. Her eyes, which must once have been a sparkling blue, have been drained of some of their color, but still retain a youthful shine. As she smiles, her age is further shown by the fan of creases streaking from the corners of her eyes. The two dimples that form at her cheeks are an immediate giveaway that she is Tor’s mother.

  It causes me to smile in return and I give a respectful bow with my head.

  “What a charming young girl,” Falda exclaims. She rocks back in her chair which is constructed of smooth wood and a basket weave seat and back. The legs of it are unusually long and curved which allow Falda to glide forward and backward in place. “And that color suits you nicely,” she winks, reminding me again of Tor.

  “Thank you,” I reply, fumbling with the skirts absentmindedly.

  “Please take a seat. I’m sure you have many questions, and my story is a long one. In my old age I’m afraid I might not have the energy to tell it all at once.” She smiles regretfully.

  I find a nearby wooden chair. It doesn’t move like Falda’s, yet is still comfortable. “I’m grateful for whatever time you may give me.”

  At this, Falda laughs. “I can tell you are hungry for answers. You will not settle for less than everything I can tell you.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and I look away having been read very accurately. It’s true. My expectations are already set at having all my questions answered.

  “Don’t worry, curiosity is nothing to be ashamed of. I will tell you all I can, if you have the patience to wait for an old woman.”

  “That I can promise you. I’ve learned patience well.”

  Falda chuckles and nods. “I am sure you have. Now—” She pulls at a large blanket that has been draped over the back of the chair and over her shoulders, adjusting it so that it better covers her. “I believe the best place to start is at the beginning, or at least the beginning as far as I’m concerned. I’d like to explain to you who we really are. The Winglets, the Finlets, and eventually everyone in between, but in the beginning, only the former two existed.” Falda is about to continue but stops herself. “First things first …” She grasps at the sides of the blanket hiding her small form and begins to slowly pull them aside. The blanket falls to the floor behind her, revealing two arcs of feathery white wings.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Falda watches my expression solemnly. She slowly extends her wings to their full span, which reaches far past her shoulders, the curved tips nearly touching the floor. I marvel at their beauty, covered in smooth white feathers that reflect the light of the sun shining in through an open window.

  She folds them delicately back behind her, resting them against the chair and holds up her palm to me. “Now before you say anything, let me explain.” It’s easy to do since I’m utterly speechless. “When I was your age, the passage into adulthood and the arrival of one’s wings were common knowledge. Like my parents and theirs before them, every Winglet reaches the stage in their life when they transform into a full-grown Winglarion, which as you can judge means that you gain the ability to fly.”

  “You mean … you can actually … and one day I will …?” The stream of possibilities floods my mind, and I can’t form any meaningful sentences.

  “I have grown old, and flying requires energy that I am unable to bring forth easily. However, for most Winglarions their feet hardly ever touched the ground.” Falda smiles in what appears to be reminiscence. “Now as a Winglet yourself, Oriana, my answer is yes. You will one day change and evolve into a Winglarion.”

  She seems to be waiting for me to fully understand, but I’ve already figured it out. “Is that the Rebirth? The one from the University?”

  “You are correct, but that is a silly name created by Odon to keep his people from knowing too much.” Falda casts aside the title with a wave of her hand, “I’d rather discuss a time when Odon had nothing to
do with our people.” She relaxes in her chair and sets her fingers together upon her lap.

  “Now, as I have already said, in the beginning there were the Winglets and Finlets. Together they lived upon our planet, which we once called Valkyrie, although the name has slowly become obsolete. For many years the two races were unaware of each other. The Finlets tended to inhabit Valkyrie’s shores and beaches, while Winglets remained within the forest. Of course in a limited amount of space and the growing populations, the two were bound to meet up eventually. When this happened, they embraced each other, learning of their different customs as well as each other’s special abilities, which they received upon reaching adulthood. It was at this stage that the two races were forced to separate. Winglets, now Winglarions, became keepers of the sky while the ocean became the domain of the Finlarions. This separation was inevitable and while they returned to land for the sake of their young ones, their fates lay in opposite realms.”

  Falda’s description of the interaction between Winglets and Finlets comes as a shock. The thought of living harmoniously with one another seems like an impossible dream.

  “But then problems arose between the two groups.”

  I sink in my chair, knowing that this story does not have a happy ending.

  “The Winglets and Finlets began to do something unspeakable. Something that caused major turmoil between the elders.” She pauses, waiting to see if I am able to supply an answer.

  I have already thought of one, yet hesitate at stating it.

  “You know what I’m about to say, don’t you?” she chides.

  “They fell in love?”

  Falda sighs with satisfaction. “Yes, although it was never thought to be possible. Winglets and Finlets, as youths often do, began to relate to one another. It wasn’t long before the first half-blooded child was born, an outcast to the society of both the Winglarion and Finlarion elders. They heard about the child and very nearly sent it away from the community. However, other children were born, and you can presume what this led to.”

  “Part-bloods.”

  “Eventually, yes and those terms thus became a vile part of everyone’s vocabulary.”

  “May I ask a question?”

  “Of course,” Falda replies.

  “I now know what happens at the Rebirth, I mean, transformation, for the Winglets and Finlets. But what happens to the others?”

  Falda’s wings tremble. “Yes I knew you would ask this.” She takes a breath. “Returning to the first half-blood child, which was a girl, many wondered the same thing. What would happen to her when she reached that stage in her life? Her parents were forced to leave her, separating from each other as well after their transformations, one to the air and the other to the sea, and she was left to discover for herself. On that day, when the purebloods grew their wings and the Finlets their fins, the only half-blood gained neither.

  “Instead, something extraordinary happened. She was given so much more, abilities beyond what anyone could have imagined. So much power was very dangerous for such a young girl, but she had been well loved, and she had no desire to use this power against her people. Her promises were not enough for the others. The elders foresaw great destruction and devastation. Despite her reassurances, the purebloods would not believe a word of it. The girl escaped death by the pleas of her loving parents, but she could not escape exile. Along with her went the other half-bloods. The part-bloods, who did not receive any abilities following their adulthood, were sent away as well. The purebloods refused to take any chances. However, their decision became a grave error. The half-bloods left in sorrow and hatred toward their families. They became outcasts and many longed for revenge. As they separated, many conquered lands individually.

  Thus began the tyranny of the half-blood’s, though not all were corrupt. Some half-bloods even attempted to stop the others of their kind, but there were too many of them. Their hunger for more power led to quarrels, and they were determined to conquer more land and more of their people, no matter what blood ran through their veins. Any fellow half-bloods they came upon were killed, and they separated all Winglets and Finlets, a strategy to prevent further competition for control of our world. Which leads us to today and Odon’s lands. As we speak he is forming an army of purebloods, determined to defeat his fellow tyrants and take over the planet.”

  “Which is where Dorian comes in!” I exclaim. I have never imagined that Odon would be a half-blood. After all, our teachings tell us that purebloods were best. But it all makes sense now: Odon would want us believing our race was most important because he would need the Finlets and Winglets as followers to attack his enemies. The part-bloods are of no great use to him other than to reiterate his teachings, as they do not transform. Odon tells the purebloods that we are the supreme race and therefore earns our further devotion.

  “Yes, Dorian is the last one, a half-blood who has escaped death and is loyal to our cause.” Falda nods but then looks down. “That is … as far as we know.”

  I study her with worry, sensing the grave doubt in her voice. “What do you mean? Dorian is loyal; I know he is.”

  “Do you? Are you so certain that when he gains that power he won’t do exactly what those before him have done?” She stares out the window. “Dorian may care for others now, but he has a lot of hate, especially after what happened to his parents. That hate is a dangerous weakness.” Falda turns to me. Her face is serious and her eyes bore deep into my own. “Oriana, you may be the only one able to hold back that hate inside him. If he cannot do this, than we are all doomed.”

  Suddenly everything has taken a different turn. I swallow, feeling lost. I was so close to thinking I could understand everything. That I could actually feel steady on my feet. Yet the ground seems to drop away from beneath me. “How could Dorian ever turn against us? It can’t be possible.” I shake my head, wanting to believe that nothing can change him.

  “Unfortunately it has happened before—another half-blood, a failed attempt.” Her words stop my breath. “But child, it grows late, and I am weary. You shall return another time, and we will discuss more. You must not speak of this to anyone, especially Dorian.”

  “I … you must tell me more …”

  “You have enough to think about. Go, join your friends for your midday meal, and leave your worries here. I will send Tor for you soon enough.”

  My eyes plead with her, but I already can tell she will speak no more. I leave with a sigh, my hands trembling. At first I was in awe of her wings and delighted at the thought of gaining my own. I have always dreamed of flying away, feeling that freedom. But knowing now what lies ahead dampens my expectations for the future. I feel an ache inside, and I keep replaying my confrontation with Dorian just the other day. He was so different, in a way I had never expected. Could he really turn on us? Become another Odon?

  I head down the ladders of platforms thinking of how badly I want to tell Dorian of everything Falda has warned me of. Yet she specifically told me not too. I can’t break her trust. I believe that she is telling the truth. It would only cause him more grief anyway. If Dorian must not know, then it is up to me to take responsibility. Maybe I do have a role in all of this, even though I can’t imagine what good I could do. Many others here at the Great Oak have known Dorian for a much longer time than I have. Wouldn’t they have a greater influence on him than I?

  My body is sore as I reach the landing where my quarters are located. I decide to rest for a moment inside my room before I continue on. So many thoughts are running through my head that I don’t notice Dorian waiting for me on my bed until he speaks.

  “Oriana, are you all right?” He gets to his feet, and I turn to him, an uncontrollable terror rising to my face. Am I actually afraid of him now? He doesn’t yet have his power, and yet I instinctively take a step backward. He looks hurt but continues as if he hasn’t noticed, “You look pale; did something happen?”

  I take a deep breath, seeing in his eyes the person I have grown to
love. It is a relief, and a genuine smile eases his stance. “I’m fine, I only felt tired and needed a rest.” To prove my point I take a seat on my bed, smoothing my dress over my thighs.

  Dorian sits beside me. “You should take it easy, you’ve grown so … thin.” He takes my hand, and I feel like nothing has changed between us, like I never saw that other person inside him. I wish I could tell him all that I have learned, but I hold back.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure him once again.

  Dorian gives an unconvinced nod and glances toward the floor, releasing my hand. “I wanted to explain the way I acted before.”

  I turn to face him, pulling my legs sideways onto the bed to look directly at him.

  “Tor told me you met with Falda.” This surprises me, but I keep silent. I thought our meeting was a private one, but I’m sure he doesn’t know all that was discussed. “I haven’t been completely honest with you, but I think she was probably the best person to explain everything.”

  “Yes, she told me quite a bit,” I reply shakily.

  “So then, you understand my situation and what I must do.” Dorian has been looking away, but now we make eye contact, and I see a young boy looking back at me. I can see a fear in his eyes, yet also a determination to carry through.

  I take his hand in both of mine. “I’ll be there with you …”

  “No.” Dorian gets up, pulling his hand away, and strides across the room. “That can’t happen. This is my fight. Just me and Odon. There is no reason for you to be there.”

  My mouth drops open. “How can you say that? You’re not alone in this; we all are affected by him. I have every right to come.”

  “Only I can defeat him. Don’t you understand? I’m the one who will kill him.”

  His words frighten me. “Kill him? Is that all you can think of? This is a revolution, not revenge. Your thoughts should not be of anger, but of hope.”