The Ankulen Page 4

  “That would be nice,” said Tisha, giving me a questioning glance, apparently expecting me to give the final word.

  “Sure,” said I, giving it.

  “Then, if you would, please follow me.” He turned and started down the hall, apparently expecting us to follow. I shrugged and did so, Tisha falling into step behind me. After a short ways, we entered a room with a long table and three stone bowls of a greenish mush placed before three of the chairs. We sat down and Tisha and Chris immediately began eating.

  I picked up the crystal spoon that lay beside my bowl and poked it around in the mush. I wasn't really hungry, and I felt awkward eating without praying first. Besides, I didn't recognize the substance in the bowl.

  “What is this?” I asked, lifting a spoonful up.

  “Mashed greenroot,” Chris replied without a second's hesitation.

  “Greenroot?” I became even more wary.

  Chris nodded. “It's the only thing that grows this far down. It's really good.”

  “Huh.” I placed the spoon tentatively in my mouth. The flavor of the “mashed greenroot” was just on the sweet side of bland. It wasn't nasty … but it wasn't amazingly good either. After a few more spoonfuls, I decided to examine my spoon instead. Eating something that I didn't care for when I wasn't hungry was a rather silly thing.

  The spoon was rather pretty.

  Soon Tisha and Chris were done with their food, and we were ready to start our journey. Chris led us back through some more corridors. When we passed through the magenta room, the Old Woman was still there. We nodded our greetings to each other, but we didn't say anything. Then we had another long trek through the low-ceilinged tunnel and at last emerged into the grayness outside.

  I shuddered as I surveyed the damaged scenery. “Any chance we could go back in?” I asked.

  “Only if that is where the Ankulen takes us,” said Chris, looking at me expectantly.

  “Oh.” I remembered the Old Woman's instructions and held up the wrist with the Ankulen and closed my eyes. I tapped the gems. “Show me where my memories got stashed,” I ordered, awkwardly. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes and made an oral observation of that fact.

  “Well,” said Chris, “maybe the Ankulen doesn't know where your memories are 'stashed.' The Old Woman did tell you to say 'show me how to find my memories.'”

  I thanked him for his advice by way of a glare, then closed my eyes again and tapped the gems. “Show me how to find my memories.”

  At first it seemed that, again, nothing had happened. However, when I was about to open my eyes and make observation of that fact, the Ankulen began to grow warm against my skin, and gently tug on my arm.

  Without thinking, I began slowly walking in the direction I was being pulled. I heard Tisha and Chris fall into step behind me, but I kept my eyes shut. We walked like this for some time, but then I ran into a tree.

  Yes, you read that right. I ran into a tree.

  Well, actually, I walked into that tree, but, still. The tree and my face had a collision.

  Instantly, my eyes flew open and I jumped backwards. As I pulled off my glasses to make sure they were still intact, I heard giggling behind me, so I threw a glare over my shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Were – were you walking with your eyes closed?” questioned Tisha, who was, to her credit, trying not to laugh.

  “What does it matter if I was?” I answered, turning my attention back to my glasses. Well, at least they didn't seem to be harmed. With grudging satisfaction, I slid them back onto my nose and turned to face the pair.

  “The Ankulen always guides you in a straight line,” explained Tisha, looking down. “You have to open your eyes after you finish asking it where to take you, so you don't run into anything.”

  “Oh.” I decided that before I offered those two any more amusement, I should continue the journey.

  So I did. They followed.

  We walked in silence. Since I was now leading, I could pretty much ignore them. Ever so often, one or the other would ask me to slow down, and I would grudgingly do so, but that was as far as it went as far as conversation.

  The scenery didn't change much. Dead grass under our feet, rocks and dead trees breaking up the horizon. Eventually, a murky brook took up residence beside our path, but that was the only change.

  “Can we rest for the night?” Chris's voice interrupted the silence.

  I stopped short and spun around to look at them. For a moment, I just stood there, eyes flicking back and forth between them. “Fine.” I finally said. I wasn't tired, but they appeared to be, and it wouldn't do for me to exhaust them to death, tempting though it was.

  They gave me grateful smiles. Tisha sank down on a nearby rock, and Chris took off the pack he was wearing and began setting up camp. I picked up a rock and threw it into the brook.

  “Don't do that!” Tisha exclaimed with sudden energy.

  I froze, then turned to her. “Why?”

  Tisha's eyes flew back to her feet. “You'll disturb the Water Babies.”

  My eyebrows went up and my mouth fell open. Before I could say anything, however, Chris threw a rock into the brook. “Not in Babble Brook,” he said, not hiding the bitterness in his voice. “Not anymore. When the Polystoikhedron disturbed it further downstream … they don't trust it anymore.”

  “Where do they live now?” I asked, truly curious at this second mention of the Water Babies.

  “In Rushing River, mostly,” replied Chris. “They think it's big enough to protect them. Queen Tailya has tried to tell them that they would find safety in the ocean, but they don't trust the ocean either, though no one can understand their reasoning why.”

  “Knowing them, their reason is that the ocean is too big,” said Tisha, sighing deeply.

  “It could be,” agreed Chris, picking up some dead sticks off of the ground and arranging them in a pile.

  “What are Water Babies?” I asked, sitting down on a rock to watch him.

  That caused both Chris and Tisha to turn to me with blank looks. Silence reigned for a moment, then Chris cocked his head to the side. “They're like babies,” he said, slowly, “but they live in the water. They like moving water best.”

  “Which is probably another reason they don't want to live in the ocean,” whispered Tisha.

  “Uh huh,” said I, frowning.

  Chris pulled some sort of bottle out of his pack, and, after uncorking it, poured the liquid inside over the pile of sticks. They burst into flame instantly. He then pulled some sort of pot out of his pack and, after filling it with water from the brook, positioned it over the fire.

  I wondered how such a large pot could fit into such a small bag, but didn't say anything.

  “They're dears,” said Tisha, standing up and walking over to the pot, while Chris abandoned it to wade into the water. “But they aren't very smart.” She sighed and began tossing things into the pot. I couldn't tell where she was getting them, or what they were … but I didn't ask. I didn't want to look too stupid in my own imagination.

  “Are you sure that water's safe to drink?” I asked instead.

  “It's safe to cook with,” said Chris. “But without the Water Babies to clean it, it's too dirty to drink.” He had been sitting completely still, but, in conclusion to this speech, he sprung forward, creating a nice splash. “Got 'em!”

  He stood up, and triumphantly held up a frog. “The Water Babies may be gone,” he explained, as he tossed the creature to me, “but the frogs aren't!”

  I drew back and let it fall at my feet. “What do you expect me to do with it?” I asked, eying it warily.

  “Take its legs off and put them into the soup,” explained Chris, resuming his place in the water, “so we can have frog leg soup.”

  “Frog leg soup?” I nearly gagged at the thought. “Even if I had the audacity to touch that frog – which I don't – how am I supposed to take its legs off? I don't have a knife.” I hoped that he wouldn't offer me one.

  �
��You don't need a knife,” said Chris. “You just pull its legs off.”

  “Gross.”

  Tisha sighed, stood up, and walked over to me. She picked the frog up, then returned to the pot. “Jen has developed an aversion to frogs,” she explained. Then, with a quick, sharp yank, she pulled off first one, then the other of the frog's legs, then dropped those legs into the pot.

  I gasped as the skin instantly grew over where the legs had been attached. “It's still gross,” said I, while Tisha returned the frog to the brook. “And inhumane. How is it going to survive without its legs?”

  “They'll grow back in a day or two,” said Chris, depositing another frog at Tisha's feet. “How can it be inhumane to let the frog serve its purpose? You made them up so we could use their legs in frog leg soup.”

  Since I wasn't winning this argument, I decided to change the subject. “Why is everything gray here?” I asked. “Is it supposed to be this way?” I didn't get an answer, so I continued the questions. “Things weren't gray in the caves, though, and you two aren't completely gray …” They still had bits of the blue-green and magenta sheen they had acquired in the caves.

  Chris finally spoke. “It ate the Rainbow after the Valley of song.”

  “The Rainbow?”

  Chris nodded as he deposited yet another frog at Tisha's feet. “You made it so that color comes from light here,” he explained. “The caves have color because they have colored light.”

  “Oh. So … since there's not enough light, there's no color either?”

  Chris shook his head. “Even if the Polystoikhedron hadn't taken bites out of the sun and eaten all but two of the Cloud Shepherds … without the Rainbow, light can't turn into color.”

  “Oh. What are Cloud Shepherds?”

  “They're the men who take care of the clouds,” explained Tisha.

  “And the two that remain … they're not enough to take care of all of the clouds,” added Chris. “So the clouds have kinda … gotten out of control.” He pointed to the clouds over our heads.

  “I think the soup is ready,” Tisha announced.

  Chris left the brook to peer into the pot. “I think it is, too,” he agreed. They then produced from the bag wooden bowls and spoons and ladled the soup into the bowls. I was handed one bowl, and they began to eat.

  I, on the other hand, just stared at my bowl. Frog leg soup. It sounded … strange. Besides, I still wasn't really hungry.

  Oh, well. I had to admit, it did smell good. Drawing in a deep breath, I spooned some into my mouth. It tasted pretty good, too.

  Before I knew it, my bowl was empty.

  Chapter 5

  In Which I Help a Little Boy

  Ihad another long night while Tisha and Chris slept. However, unlike the night before, my being awake actually served a purpose – I could keep watch and make sure that no dragons, ogres or, worst of all, Polystoikhedra attacked.

  Not that there were multiple Polystoikhedra in my imagination, Chris had been quick to explain. At least, he was pretty sure there was only one. Polystoikhedra, it seemed, was the plural form of Polystoikhedron.

  If any ogres or dragons attacked, I was to awaken Chris so that he could fight them. If the Polystoikhedron did … well, we would have to do some quick thinking – and running.

  Truthfully, I almost wished that a dragon or ogre would show up. The night was long and dark, and the only thing I had to amuse myself with were my thoughts, and they weren't being very amusing.

  I did some exploring, but made sure that I didn't get too far from where Tisha and Chris were sleeping. There wasn't much to see, so I soon returned to camp to find Chris awake and poking at the fire.

  “Good morning, Jen,” he observed, but said nothing about my disappearance.

  “It doesn't seem very good to me,” I commented, glancing up at the ominous sky.

  “Oh, it's a very good day,” Chris assured me. “You're here, and Tisha too. We're on an adventure, and it's almost like old times … except …” His smile faded.

  “Except my memories are missing,” I finished, leaning against a dead tree. “And the landscape looks horrid.”

  “We'll find your memories soon, Jen.” Chris sounded like he was trying to assure himself more than me, though. “And then you'll be able to fix the place so that it won't look horrid.”

  I shrugged, then looked down at the Ankulen. “I hope it's soon.” I wrinkled my nose at the sight of my gray skin. “I think the Rainbow will be the first thing I restore.”

  “That is your decision,” said Chris, giving the sky a longing glance.

  “I'd like to know why I'm the grayest thing here,” I mentioned. “You two still had color when you got here, and for quite some time after that – but for me, it was insta-gray!”

  Chris shook his head. “I've been wondering that myself.”

  “I've never turned gray before?” I peered over my glasses at him.

  “No, you haven't,” Chris affirmed. “Perhaps … perhaps you're reflecting the land itself – you're gray because it's gray.”

  “Then why wasn't I gray when I was out?”

  “I don't know. Perhaps you'll know why once you regain your memories.”

  “I hope so.” I glanced over to Tisha's sleeping form. “Mind if I wake her up?”

  “You may if you wish.”

  Once I had poked Tisha awake, we had a quick breakfast of more frog leg soup, and then we resumed our journey.

  The Ankulen led us alongside the brook for some time, then had us cross it. After crossing, we soon left Babble Brook far behind us. The rocks that dotted the horizon grew further and further apart, while the trees became thicker. Soon enough, the trees were thick enough to be considered a forest, and there was less grass and more leaf litter under our feet.

  However, since the trees were all dead, it was a very spooky-looking forest. Instinctively, my step began to slow, and my eyes darted nervously to and fro among the trees.

  “Where are we?” I ventured to ask.

  “The Orchard,” answered Chris. “All the best fruit and nut trees grow here.”

  “They don't look like they're growing anymore,” I observed.

  “No,” agreed Chris. “There's not enough light for them anymore. Not only that, but a storm killed most of the Home Trees. There's only a few Wood Children left, and they can't take care of all of the trees all by themselves.”

  “The poor dears,” muttered Tisha.

  I was about to ask about the Wood Children when I saw a young boy sitting in a tree. He was almost naked, wearing only a dirty piece of cloth around his waist. The rest of him was covered in dirt and grime, even his messy hair, and he stared at me with the largest, most forlorn eyes I had ever seen. I was sure that he couldn't be any older than five.

  Ignoring the Ankulen's pull, I took a step in his direction. “Hello,” I said, in a soothing voice. “Are you lost?”

  The boy gave a small nod, then, almost before I could blink, was down from the tree and staring up at me. I had to blink several times after that to regain my composure. He could certainly move quickly.

  “Lost again, Walnut?” Chris chuckled. “Well, we'll help you find your Home Tree, won't we?”

  A smile broke across the boy's face. “You will? Oh, thank-you, Sir Christofer!”

  I noticed that Chris was giving me another one of those expectant looks, so I raised my eyebrows and asked, “What do you expect me to do? I don't even know what a 'home tree' looks like, let alone where one is!”

  “You can ask the Ankulen?” Chris pointed out.

  I held up my wrist and glanced down at the Ankulen. “Wouldn't that mess up its current search?”

  “Oh, but you can tell it to get back to the search for your memories just as soon as you find Walnut's Home Tree,” Chris pointed out.

  “Fine.” I closed my eyes and tapped the gems. “Show me Walnut's Home Tree.” It started to pull in a slightly different direction, so I followed. Tisha, Chris, and Walnut eagerly f
ollowed me.

  “So Walnut is one of the ones who survived?” questioned Tisha.

  “Yes,” said Chris. “But with the Orchard dead and dying, his propensity for getting lost has only gotten worse.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Walnut. “I just never can find my Home Tree.”

  We traveled in silence for some ways, then the tug on my wrist stopped abruptly. I immediately stopped walking and looked down at the Ankulen. “It stopped pulling,” I observed.

  “Then that must be Walnut's Home Tree,” declared Chris, pointing to a large tree that stood a few feet in front of me. Unlike most of the other trees I had seen so far, this one was covered in sickly leaves. Well, at least it was alive.

  “Is that your home tree?” Tisha asked, looking down at the boy, who had made claim of her hand during our walk.

  Walnut didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let go of Tisha's hand and approached the tree tentatively. He slowly circled it, then put a timid hand against the peeling bark. At his touch, the tree seemed to perk up somewhat, though I wasn't sure if that wasn't just wishful thinking on my part.

  “Yes,” he said at last. “Yes, this is my tree. Oh! I had forgotten that it was so sick!” Then, just as quickly as he had climbed down from the tree I had first seen him in, he was among the branches, laying a cheek against the trunk. A tear slipped out of his eye and formed a trail on his dirty cheek.

  “We've brought Lady Jenifer back, Walnut,” said Chris, in a soothing voice. “She's missing her memories right now, but as soon as she finds them, she'll come right back here and cure your tree.”

  A grin broke across the boy's face. “You have? Where is she?” Before any of us could answer, however, Walnut was once more on the ground, staring up at me with a hopeful expression. “Are you Jenny?”

  “Apparently,” I said, smiling down at him. “And I promise you, as soon as I get my memories back, I'll be sure to come right back here and fix your tree.”

  He smiled back at me. “And Pecan's”

  “Of course.”

  “And Apple's”

  “I will.”

  “Will you bring back the others?”