Where the Path Leads – Chapter 28

What She Feared Most         

The cypress tree clung to the very edge of the fault line, a yawning gulf that was called the abyss. The tree seemed to defy nature by mushrooming out of sheer stone, throwing out contorted roots like desperate, grasping tentacles, its dark branches rearing into the air as if trying to grab the sky. Emily and her companions stood at a distance surveying the tree as if it were a beast to be reckoned with.                                              

             Arthur spoke first.  “The branches are high.” 

            Emily didn’t like his tone of dismay, but she reluctantly agreed. “Yes.  It’s going to be hard to climb.”

            From deep within the earth came another low rumbling, like a huge pile of rocks falling off a distant table.

            “Climbing isn’t all you’ll need be concerned with,” Annamunde said, her mouth set in a hard line, creases appearing between her dark brows. But her stern expression belied the concern clouding her dark brown eyes. “I fear something down there,” she said, raising her chin towards the abyss.

            Irritation pricked Emily but she shook it off. “We’ve come this far,” she said.  “I’ve got to try,” but she kept asking herself how this would help Sophia. “Arthur, can I borrow your knife?” she asked, thinking she could use it to hack off one of the thick branches. When he handed it to her, she moved toward the tree, but Annamunde stopped her with a light touch on the arm.

            “Wait. Let me look down the chasm first.”

            Always wanting to be in charge, Emily thought, ignoring her, as well as her itching ear. She moved towards the tree, reminding herself to stay focused.  

            The ledge was deathly quiet.  Here, there were no crickets chirping, no birds singing, no wind whispering. Nearing the tree, its size overwhelmed her, the gargantuan trunk squatting like a dinosaur at the edge of the precipice, the tentacle-like roots threatening the surrounding emptiness. How had it even grown on the sheer rock of the ledge without any apparent soil? As it had grown, the main trunk had split into two massive arms championing its own strength, and from those arms spread branches covered in waxy green foliage, halfway between leaves and needles. But the strangest feature of all was the pattern of labyrinthian design in the bark of the trunk’s base, its ridges so convoluted with lines and circles that it almost looked like the disgruntled face of an aged person.

            Hesitating momentarily, she glanced back. Arthur smiled encouragement.  Annamunde still scowled.

            Emily moved closer, feeling her dread increase with every step. Finally she stood on the slope next to the bent, ancient tree. How old was it, she wondered, looking up, but as she did her feet slid in the scree near the base.

             She threw her arms out, grabbing the lichen encrusted, deeply etched bark of the trunk which grazed her hands raw. How was she going to climb it? Although it was rough, there were no easy handholds. As she considered this, more smoke and ash belched forth from the abyss. That motivated her, and she latched on to one of the protruding roots, quickly shimmying up. Don’t look down! She told herself. Don’t look down! And tried not to think of the empty air beneath her and the precarious slanting angle of the tree. Slowly she worked her way up the root towards the nearest branch. No sense going any higher than necessary. She hadn’t yet begun to consider the climb back down. 

            When she reached the trunk, she clung to the rough bark as if it were a lifeline, despite the fact that it cut into her hands and feet and face, one cheek pressed against its deep grooves while she desperately sought any small protrusions or knots in the wood to grab hold of. It was surprising how steep the trunk of the tree was, and several times she almost slid down it into the scree at the base. 

            Finally, she stopped to catch her breath, watching her trembling, abraded hands as if they belonged to someone else. Her breath came in ragged gasps and sweat beaded on her forehead, despite the cold. Now the bottom branches were within reach and with painstaking care she sought the knife which she had stuffed under her green silk sash, the one Sophia had made for her back on May Day. That thought steadied her hand and she reached up and began hacking at a branch the width of her wrist.

            After no more than two deep cuts, the earth trembled again and she felt herself slipping. Grabbing on to the tree trunk, she was paralyzed with horror when the air around her shook with an earsplitting screech. The next moment she was engulfed in wind and shadow. From the shuddering ash of the abyss came what she feared most, what she had tried to convince herself didn’t exist. The stuff of nightmares, it rose on bat-like wings that inflamed the air like two hurricanes.  Emily was close enough to its angry yellow eyes, the size of a person, to see glinting green flecks in the black of its pupils and grey scales around its upper and lower lids. 

            At the same moment, the branch she had been cutting, which she still clung to, broke. She lost her grip and scrabbled wildly down the rough bark trying to break her fall, only to land on the rocks at the base of the tree. She ducked underneath the tangle of twisted, protruding roots, covering her ears to yet another deafening shriek and crawled as far back under the contorted trunk as she could.  Huddled there, she felt the dragon’s wrath as it flapped its membranous wings.  Once, she caught sight of scaled claws flashing past, talons the length of her legs.  Another time, a snake-like, barbed tail slashed the air as the creature screamed its displeasure.

            Outside the protection of the roots, lying on the ground, lay the branch she had dropped on the way down. She could see it but didn’t dare retrieve it. Another shriek and the dragon landed with a resounding crash close to the cypress, making the ground tremble. From her hiding place, Emily saw grey-scaled feet, heard the talons scratching rock. She tried to think. Should she make a dash? Try to outrun it? How fast were dragons, given their huge bulk? Were they slow and lumbering, like a cow or a bear? But then she recalled that both cows and bears could run quickly when they wanted to. How long must she stay here before the dragon went away? And why had it emerged when it did? Had something brought it out? Did it protect the tree, for some reason?

            All frantic thoughts stopped, however, when Arthur suddenly emerged from behind a huge stone, coming out onto the ledge, sword in hand, towards the dragon. She gasped. What was he doing? Did he really think he was a match for something the size of a building? 

            The dragon turned only its scaled, tapering head, like a snake inscrutably keeping its prey in sight.

            “Dragon, show your mettle,” he cried. “I challenge you in the name of all that’s good!”

            As if annoyed, its barbed tail swept the ground sending shards of rocks skittering over the ledge and down into the abyss. Emily didn’t hear them hit bottom.

            “Come, dragon! Engage me in battle. I intend to slay you,” Arthur continued, circling. He was trying to distract it, giving her time to escape. Ominously, the dragon lifted its massive bulk onto four rather short but stout legs, flicked its tail again sending more stones crashing and, without blinking those piercing yellow eyes, reared up on the back two legs screeching and violently pumping its wings, which caught the air like sails on a mast.

            The noise was almost unbearable. 

            Arthur was knocked backward by the sheer force of air from those webbed wings, but he hastily stood back up as the dragon took a few lumbering steps towards him.

            She couldn’t let Arthur sacrifice himself. Scrambling out from her hiding place she grabbed the cypress branch lying on the ground and ran towards him.

            “No, Emilia! Get away,” he cried.

            The dragon lowered its head like a tiger before pouncing, and Arthur ran forward to meet the challenge, sword outstretched.

            From out of nowhere Annamunde appeared screaming “NOOOOOO!”  She knocked the sword from Arthur’s hand just as the dragon flicked its long neck, hitting them both with its wedge-shaped head and sending them sprawling across the ledge where they stopped only inches from the precipice. Arthur lay unmoving, but Annamunde was instantly back on her feet as the dragon turned its mammoth bulk around to finish what it had begun.

             In a movement amazingly fast for such a massive creature, the dragon flapped its long, membranous wings again and took off. Emily watched horror-striken as the dragon seized Annamunde like a trophy with its black and yellow marbled talons and flew into the air.

            She ran after them to the edge, coming up short as she looked down for the first time into the yawning gash in the earth. Catching her breath, she froze, terrified by the jagged, sheer drop and the faint orange glow far, far below.

            The dragon circled above the chasm and she heard Annamunde’s cries, already sounding distant. She had to do something, and quickly. But what could she do against such an immense adversary? The dragon had appeared when she began hacking off the branch. Perhaps the tree meant something to it. Perhaps it was guarding the tree for some reason. Maybe the wood did confer special powers. If she gave back the branch, would it leave them alone? Desperately, she waved the branch in the air.

            “Here! Take it,” she cried. “Just let her go!”

            The dragon’s yellow eyes were trained on where she stood on the ledge, probably appearing like an ant. It continued circling. Annamunde no longer yelled and struggled but hung limp in its talons. Emily couldn’t think what more to do. She didn’t know if faerie folk could die, but she doubted seriously if anything or anyone would survive a fall into the abyss. 

            She fell onto her knees on the rock ledge. “Please,” she implored, “let her go! I’m the one who took the branch. Take me instead.” She laid the branch on the ground in front of her. The dragon gave another deafening screech and released Annamunde in midair. 

            Emily screamed as her friend plummeted through the air, a green blur. But Annamunde seemed to come back to life, grabbing an exposed tree root as she fell and dangling precariously for a few moments, before dropping onto a narrow stone ledge below.   

            So concerned was she with Annamund’s fate that, too late, she saw the dragon had circled around behind her, now flying straight towards her. Before she could even think of running, it seized her in an instant, dropping her over the edge as well.

            In that moment she was living her recurrent nightmare, the one where she was falling and there was nothing to grab hold of, no hope of breaking her fall. Wind roared in her ears as her splayed arms snatched at emptiness in a futile attempt to stop herself. Her mind began to shut down at the approach of certain death when, out of nowhere, a white speck hurtled towards her. 

            A comet?  A light at the end of the tunnel?  No. 

            Streaking near her, she saw what it was and reached out towards it, grabbing with one hand. A tail. Whipped along behind it, she struggled for more purchase, hauling herself onto its back. The white unicorn. Now she had a death grip on its mane and was swept along through currents of heat and ash. Oderic had sent it, she knew. It was Alpha Centauri. 

            It flew towards the ledge on the other side, high above the abyss. She saw where Arthur still lay, then looked down towards Annamund huddled on the ledge. The dragon, its huge, yellow, inscrutable eyes scanning the abyss, had perched close to the cypress tree, to the branch which she had surrendered. All she wanted was to put distance between herself and this terrifying place, her labored breathing coming in ragged gasps, but she couldn’t leave yet. Without hesitating, she cried “Down!” and tugged on the unicorn’s mane to turn it back around.  As Alpha Centauri swooped past, Emily reached out and grabbed the waiting Annamund who held out her arms and swung a leg over the unicorn’s back like an expert horse woman. When she did, Emily felt herself slip momentarily, unbalanced by the movement, but Annamund wrapped her arms securely around Emily’s waist and Alpha Centauri compensated, banking to the other side, then circling higher, to the precipice where Arthur lay.

            As they approached, a bird flew towards them. The dragon saw it too and lumbered towards it, extending its wings as a warning, screeching unmercifully. 

            “Athena!” Annamund cried, though Emily didn’t know whether the lady called out in amazement or to summon the owl back, away from danger. Athena swooped down out of the sky and grabbed the cypress branch from the stone ledge, right from under the dragon’s nose, and quickly mounted back into the air. In a fury, the dragon raised its snake-like head, screaming and belching forth a stream of fire and smoke.

            “Athena!” Annamund cried again. But when the smoke cleared, the owl was heading toward them, singed and blackened, but still flying, still holding the branch in her talons, which she dropped deftly in mid-flight to be caught by the waiting Annamund.

            The dragon trampled the stones across the ledge, beating its wings in a frenzy.

            Perhaps stirred by the commotion, Arthur finally sat up groggily.   

            It was a daring move, but despite her fear of the dragon’s belching flames, Emily urged Alpha Centauri down to the ledge. He responded willingly to her cues and flew down close to where the dragon thundered, close to where their companion was finally standing, shaky and stumbling, holding his head. Arthur saw them approaching but so did the dragon.

              Emily’s heart was in her throat as the dragon twisted its snake-like body towards them, but the unicorn sank close to where Arthur stood. The creature lumbered towards them, its tail thrashing the ground angrily like hundreds of falling trees.

            Emily would wonder long after that whether it was the dragon’s tail crashing against the earth which triggered the volcano, or if the earlier Earth tremors had opened floodgates somewhere deep in the Earth’s core, from where molten lava now spurted. Whichever it was, the air was suddenly possessed with a sickening, choking metallic smell. Emily couldn’t see it clearly because of the smoke stinging her eyes, but a blinding light was coming from deep within the abyss as wave upon wave of suffocating heat washed over them. Jets of searing orange lava spewed with horrible magnificence high into the air.

            Reaching toward them, Arthur cried out, but the noise of the volcano drowned out even the dragon’s roar. Alpha Centuari swooped down, Annamund grabbed his arms, and instantly they were aloft, Arthur hanging onto Annamund as the unicorn took them up and away.

            Emily knew better than to look back. And she knew Arthur couldn’t hold on forever. Her only object was for all of them to get away alive. Having the cypress branch? Well, who would have believed that?