Chapter 21: Climbing the Bone

After the planting of the Shadow Tree, the tension in the slave quarters grew steadily. You could see it on the faces of the slaves, as they wondered what would happen to them. Wild rumors circulated that the slaves would be fed one by one to the Tree. Even the guards appeared uneasy. Hill and Resuza had additional worries as well – namely, Bilblox and Naomi. Bilblox had looked pale and close to death as he sat in the back of the sled. What had happened to him and why was he sitting in Kiril’s sled? His mysterious arrival now presented yet another complication. If they were able to escape, wouldn’t they need to rescue Bilblox too?

And what about Naomi?

After her encounter with the old woman, who had called Naomi “her pet,” Resuza constantly searched the slave quarters for her. But the old woman seemed to have disappeared. The slave quarters were enormous, holding thousands upon thousands of slaves, but they weren’t impossibly large. It didn’t seem possible that this old woman could just melt away. And yet she had.

For both Resuza and Hill, their lives in the slave quarters now seemed to drag on with excruciating slowness, as they waited for something to happen.

And then it did.

One evening, after a long day of toil, Resuza had muttered goodnight to Hill and fallen into bed. A sudden crinkling noise interrupted her quick descent into sleep. She slammed open her eyes, but saw no one. Eventually, she reached underneath her pillow and pulled out a note. There was a very faint light emanating from dying fires of a distant coal oven and, in this murky glow, Resuza read the note:

Tomorrow night, at midnight, the main door will be unlocked. I’ve bribed the guard. Climb the yellow pillar to the north of the slave quarters. I’ll meet you at the top. Bring everything and do not linger. They’re coming for you. – Fonzia

“Fonzia” was the nickname that Resuza had once called her little sister, Naomi. The two girls used it only when they were playing in the woods. It was a secret name. No one else could possibly know about it. This note had many implications, but the most profound of them appeared to be confirmation that Naomi was alive.

As she sat on her bed with the note lying limply in her hand, Resuza could still recall their parting with startling clarity. It happened early one summer morning in the small town of Tulov where she, her sister, and her parents lived. The entire family was still asleep when the slavers rode into town on their horses. The horsemen had torches and they set fire to all of the homes. Her parents ran out of the house to fight the flame and, when they did, the horseman had killed them. Cut them down with swords. Resuza and Naomi hid in the house for as long as they could, coughing on the smoke, until they were finally forced out into the street. In the chaos, no one saw them emerge.

“Come on,” Resuza had yelled, “We’ve got to run for the river!” Naomi, however, stood in place, frozen like a statue, staring at the bodies of their dead parents. “Come on!” begged Resuza, tearfully, “We must go before they see us!” Naomi wouldn’t budge. Resuza tried to drag her, but Naomi pushed her away. Just then, a horseman spotted them. They were out of time. Resuza turned and ran as fast as she could, darting in and out of the smoke, zigzagging her way down to the river, where she hid among the reeds. She had simply followed her instincts and ran for her life. There was nothing else she could have done; at least that’s what she told herself again, and again, and again, to assuage her own guilt. The guilt had festered over the years like a wound, especially because she had, eventually, concluded that her sister must be dead.

Incredible as it seemed, however, the reality was that Naomi was alive and had actually been watching over her. It could, of course, be a trick. This could be Kiril or Nartam toying with her. But why would they bother? After all, Resuza and Hill were slaves – captives – there was no need to trick or trap them; they were already trapped. In any case, heeding the advice on the note – and escaping – seemed like the only sensible thing to do.

The following evening, at exactly midnight, Hill and Resuza made a run for it. Instead of relying on the uncertainty of a bribed guard, they used their escape tunnel and emerged into the snow directly above the slave quarters on a fiercely cold polar night. For the better part of a half-hour, they crept across the snow, heading north, until they found the one pillar that appeared to have a slight – very slight – yellow tint to it. Then they started climbing, which was relatively easy to do, because the pillar had many holes and crevices to grab hold of. It became increasingly obvious to them that they were climbing a vertical column of human and animal bones – jaws, clavicles, femurs, arms, rib cages, skulls – which had all been fused together into one single column.

As they went higher and higher, just one thought kept fluttering its way across the synapses of Resuza’s brain: Don’t look down! As she climbed upward, she struggled to stay focused, concentrating on each and every crevice that she used to hoist herself upwards; and yet, despite herself, she involuntarily stole a quick glance downward. What she saw was dizzying enough to make her want to vomit. She and Hill were far above the ground, perched precariously on a narrow stone ledge. They were so high up that only a hundred feet above them was the first layer of impenetrable clouds.

From this perch, they could see all of Dargora, including the hideous Shadow Tree, which was growing at an astounding pace. Within a few days time it had grown to a height of over two hundred feet and, despite the fact that a small army of Dragoonya soldiers was working around the clock burning the tree’s limbs and collecting its ash, the tree was still growing steadily in size. The other thing that was apparent from this height was that every tree, shrub, plant, and patch of moss within eyesight was now dead. Dargora had never been an especially green place, but there was a modest collection of vegetation here and there – especially in the north of the city where there were a few hot springs – and now all of this was brown, wilted, finished. The roots of the Shadow Tree had spread a ripple of death in every direction.

“Do you think we’re climbing the correct pillar?” asked Resuza finally.

Hill shrugged wearily.

“Where do you suppose it leads?”

“No idea,” replied Hill. “I’m too exhausted to think properly.”

Hill and Resuza surveyed the landscape below. Resuza looked again at the Tree.

“What do you suppose my sister meant when she wrote, They’re coming for you?” asked Resuza finally.

“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” replied Hill. He ran his fingers through his long beard and picked out a few pieces of ice that had formed. “It’s curious because we have no value to them. We don’t know where Alfonso is, I couldn’t find my way back to Somnos if I had to, and I am too weary to do much work. They must want something else.”

“The Pen?”

Hill nodded.

“Do you have it with you?” asked Resuza.

Hill stared at her blankly, and then rubbed his hands together, but said nothing; apparently, he did not intend to answer her question.

“Do you?” she pressed.

“No,” said Hill finally.

“The note said to bring everything with us,” said Resuza.

“I know,” said Hill cryptically. “That’s why I chose not to bring it with us.”

Resuza rolled her eyes. Without saying any more, she stood up and began to climb. Hill watched as she climbed easily. He sighed and started up after her.

Soon they arrived at the layer of clouds and began to climb through it. It was eerie to be stuck in a thick, white-gray mist, but they welcomed the respite from the constant wind. They climbed without speaking and lost track of time. Hill’s mind shut off and he became a machine, taking one careful step after another. Then Resuza uttered a low cry that woke him up.

Hill looked up towards Resuza. It was hard to see her even though she was only several feet away, but her body appeared to be glowing white.

“What is it?” he shouted. “Are you OK?”

She didn’t reply and Hill furiously continued climbing until he was directly beneath her. He looked up and saw what had caused her to yell out.

They had emerged above the cloud layer, and the moon bathed them in a milky glow. Directly above them, stuck like a marshmallow on a stick, sat an old wooden ship. As they looked around, they could see other ships suspended on the many pillars that jutted up towards the night sky. They were all different, but most were quite large and big enough to cross the ocean with hundreds of passengers.

It looked as if the Dragoonya had taken several dozen antique warships – the sorts that pirates and old sea captains like Horatio Nelson once sailed – and hoisted them up onto the tops of these massive pillars made of bone. The ships were now homes, the strange equivalent of tree houses, in which the Dragoonya lived. The clouds hovered just beneath many of these ships, which gave the illusion that there was an entire armada of ghost ships floating gently on the clouds. Many of the ships had windows, which were brightly lit, and others even had decorative flags and sails fluttering in the wind. Most ships were connected by a series of swinging rope bridges. All in all, the ships comprised a strangely beautiful city that appeared to rest on the clouds. Hill and Resuza stared at the sight, gaping in awe.

For several minutes they remained motionless, spell-bound. But then the wind picked up again, and they looked up to measure their progress. Their destination, a large warship connected by rope bridges to several other ships, looked to be a short climb away.

“Do you think your sister will be waiting for us?” Hill asked.

“I hope so,” Resuza replied. As she said this, she couldn’t help feeling nervous about the upcoming encounter. It had been so many years. Resuza had tried to protect her during that time. After the Dragoonya had captured Naomi, Resuza followed them all the way to the gates of Dargora, pushing herself to the brink of death before finally turning back. Later on, when she was working for Kiril, Resuza had made Kiril promise to take care of Naomi. Resuza had been Kiril’s loyal servant until, during the battle of Somnos, she defected and switched sides in order to help Alfonso. She simply couldn’t stand the thought of betraying Alfonso who had been such a loyal friend to her. It was only later, in the hours after the battle, that she began to wonder about her sister. What had become of Naomi? What would Kiril do with her? Would he kill her?

Once again she had abandoned her sister. Resuza had always intended to return to Dargora and set her sister free, but it hadn’t worked out that way; in fact, now it was Naomi who was helping Resuza make a break for freedom.

“Come on,” said Hill. “We’re almost there.”

Resuza nodded and began to climb. She went faster now, and Hill did the same. In no time at all, they were at the intersection of the pillar and the ship’s hull. Outlined in the hull they saw a rectangular door. It had no knobs or levers and no obvious way to enter.

Resuza looked at Hill. “What should I do?” she asked.

Hill shrugged his shoulders. “Push?”

Resuza tentatively pushed on the door. Although the wood had warped and made the door tight, it soon opened. Resuza listened, hoping to hear her sister’s voice, but she heard only the wind.

“Naomi?” she whispered loudly.

There was no answer.

“It could be a trap,” she said.

“I know,” replied Hill. They both stared into the dark opening, trying to find any reassuring sign at all.

Resuza sighed.

“Well, we can’t wait here forever,” she announced. “Let’s go.” With that, Resuza and then Hill climbed into the pitch-black hull of the ship.