Chapter Twenty-Seven

Way to Worship

Sometimes we underestimate the impact we have on other people’s lives. Everybody living, no matter how miserable his or her life may be or how glorious each day is, makes an impact on others.

Sometimes the impact is obvious.

Perhaps you’re a plastic surgeon and you give someone a really big nose. That stands out; it is pretty clear what impact you had on that person’s life. But sometimes the impact is less obvious—like when someone suggests a certain breakfast cereal and it lowers your cholesterol ten points. I mean, who’s going to know unless you tell them? And sometimes you meet people so briefly, but in that brief moment they say or do something that sticks with you, and although you may never meet them again, your life is changed permanently because of it.

The journey to the oldest tree is not an easy one. In fact, it’s quite challenging and draining on a person, because you never really know how much unfinished business might be lurking in the form of people you’ve somehow influenced. In the history of Foo, only a handful have ever walked through the ruins of what Foo once was and faced the things they had never finished. It’s almost impossible to know who you might meet along the way or what bit of your past might be waiting up ahead to jump or drain you.

And that’s before you ever even see the tree.

There were no pictures of the oldest tree, not even drawings, because so few had ever seen it—and those who had weren’t exactly the type of people who were going to make postcards and sell them.

Of course, in the beginning, there were many who witnessed the tree. It was the center of Foo and of all activity. Great buildings and cities were built up around it. Many of the dreams that came in back then swirled through its branches and received inspiration from it. But as Foo changed, and as even the slightest imbalance occurred, fewer and fewer saw or experienced the tree. Towns and cities went to ruin as Alder eventually broke off and became an island in the center of the Lime Sea, a place only the Waves had access to. A place most of Foo could conveniently forget about.

Leven steadied himself—it felt as if the entire island of Alder was sliding around in the Lime Sea.

“What’s going on?” Leven asked.

“I thought you were just walking funny,” Clover replied.

“No more dreams?” Leven said. “And the ground’s moving? And look at the color of the sky.”

“Black’s technically not a color,” Clover said.

The bushes and trees were so thick that Leven had to stop every few feet and look for a clear place to step. He could still see bits of the glass trail under all the growth, but it was almost impossible to walk a straight line.

“Isn’t it noon?” Leven asked.

Clover stared at him.

“Lunchtime?” Leven clarified.

“Feels like it,” Clover complained.

“What’s the deal with the sky being so dark?”

“It’ll lighten up,” Clover said. “It just looks like the suns are a bit confused. See, here comes one.”

In the far sky the small sun rose up, as if peeking to see how bad things were. The light spread out across Alder and touched the path they were standing on.

“There,” Leven pointed. “Look at that!”

In front of them a good way off stood a large chapel made completely out of wood. Its towers and roofs were ornate and massive. It was boxed in by trees, and there were bushes and branches shooting out of the windows and roof. Leven walked as quickly as he could, jumping over fallen trees and thick bushes. By the time he reached the chapel, he was short of breath. He looked up at it and walked around slowly.

“Wow,” Leven said quietly. “I would have loved to see this thing years ago before it was so weathered.” He made a complete circuit around the building and then climbed the seven steps up to the closed front doors.

“Are we going inside?” Clover asked.

“I am.”

“What do you think is inside?”

“From the look of the windows, probably just bushes and trees.”

Clover disappeared, and Leven reached out and tried the knob. The door was locked. Leven pulled out his kilve and slammed it down on the doorknob. The door made a snapping sound and then swung open, squealing as it moved.

Leven stuck his head inside.

The large chapel was completely overgrown. It looked like a bird sanctuary that someone had forgotten about and now it was nothing but growth and decay. There were a couple of very large trees that had actually grown so tall they were bursting through the ceiling, and all the windows had bushes around them that were thirsty for light.

Across the chapel, Leven could see what used to be a podium, and an organ with large wooden pipes sat silent.

Leven stepped in and walked carefully across the chapel and through the rows of decaying benches. It was deathly quiet. Even the air seemed to be holding its breath.

“Woooooaaammmmnnnnaaaa.”

The organ played and Leven jumped half his height.

“Who’s there?” Leven hollered.

“It’s just me,” Clover hollered back. “I wanted to see if this worked. Listen.” Clover jumped all over the organ keyboard, making sounds no respectable organist would have approved of. He leapt onto the top keyboard and then bounced his behind down on the keys. It sounded like a circus who couldn’t afford a real organist. The noise bounced off the walls and floors and made it difficult to think straight.

“That’s enough,” Leven called, holding up his hand.

Clover pressed one last note. “Sorry.”

“What do you think this place was?” Leven asked.

“It was a church,” a male voice answered him from behind.

Leven spun around, pulling out his kilve and slicing it through the air.

“No need for that,” the voice said.

Whoever was speaking was sitting in one of the decaying pews and staring straight at Leven. Leven had walked right past him on his way across the chapel.

“Do you remember me?” the voice asked.

“I’m not sure that I do,” Leven said, still pointing his kilve toward him. A tiny ray of light shifted to expose the right side of the dark visitor. Unlike the last time Leven had seen him, he was whole. “Jamoon.”

Jamoon sighed. “There’s no need to fear me. My body hardens even as we speak. My feet are stone and I can feel the rock creeping up my legs. This will be the last place I sit.”

“I don’t understand,” Leven said, walking closer. “What unfinished business do we have? You were dead.”

“You’re right,” Jamoon said. “Dreams have stopped. I suppose us rants are now whole. But what good is it? We will all harden, Foo is crumbling, and I helped make it happen.”

“You had some pretty dark help,” Leven pointed out. “Sabine—and Sabine and you were messed up by the Dearth.”

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Jamoon pleaded. “I know what I did. I suppose that’s why I’m here, to make something right.”

“How did you get here?” Leven asked.

“I was working my way toward death when I was pulled here,” Jamoon said. “When I fell at Morfit, I lay beneath the stones dying for days. As my life finally slipped away, I was stopped— by what, I don’t know—but my fate was on hold until I came here.”

Leven looked down at Jamoon and could see the stone creeping up his neck and beneath his chin.

“I’m sorry I chose the wrong side,” Jamoon said.

“I’ve never needed your apology,” Leven said sincerely. “In all honesty, you always sort of amazed me.”

Jamoon smiled. “You are as remarkable as you were prophesied to be.”

“I only wanted . . .”

The rock crept up Jamoon’s face. His mouth and nose were now stone. He looked at Leven with his wide eyes and then shut them as the stone finished him off. Jamoon now sat there as a statue with closed eyes.

“Do you think that even looks like him?” Clover asked.

“It was him,” Leven said quietly. “You saw.”

“I know, but the stone makes him look like a woman.”

Leven laughed softly.

“I’m just saying that someday someone might stumble upon it and think it’s a statue of a woman and put it out in their garden.”

“And you were complaining about me talking too much?” Leven asked.

Clover disappeared and they left the chapel.

“I feel different,” Leven admitted. “It’s like everyone we run into takes part of me.”

“People can be so selfish.”

“Seriously,” Leven said. “Although maybe what they’re taking are bits I shouldn’t be holding onto anyhow.”

Clover materialized and looked Leven up and down. “You look okay to me.”

Leven walked faster, being careful not to trip over his own feet.