Immortal (2 page)

The Grandfather Tree

The morning was bright and colorful. Fields of greenery flooded the hills and valleys. The sun was large and round; a pumpkin shade of orange. Pink clouds were floating throughout the sky. Tiny chirping sounds came from the trees as mother birds flew in and out of their nests. Staysia could smell the flowers and see the beauty of the forest, but something was missing in her heart. That something was her mother and her father.

Staysia could hear her mother’s voice in her head; she could see her mother’s face. A blue blanket spread across the green grass. Staysia could see herself as a child. Her mother lay beside her. They looked into the sky and watched the clouds take shape of the creatures around them and that of creatures unknown; the ones that they had imagined together. She could hear her mother’s laughter. In her mind, she could see them laughing together. She remembered running into her father’s arms when he would return home from town. She recalled the way he smelled and the warmth of his embrace.

She recalled the memories they had together as she grew older. Her mother spoke to her about love and womanhood. Her father on the other hand, was very protective of her. Watching her grow into such a beautiful woman made him a bit nervous. Of course, no man is ever good enough for a girl’s father.

Her parents were the type who would take her out on fishing trips in the middle of the night. Not just when she was a girl, it didn’t matter how old she was; she would never be too old for a fishing trip or a picnic in the forest with her parents and neither were they. They were young and strong at heart.

Their voices, their laughter; everything came to her mind. She remembered her father’s large, warm hands. She remembered her mother’s long red hair. If only she could have them back, if only they wouldn’t have been killed for no good reason at all.

The night of the attack had been dark and stormy. Rain poured down hard on the town of Caydence. The bolts of lightning added to the horrific sight of the people who fought for their lives that night. Staysia remembered the four flashes that haunted her memory.

The lightening had struck when a man held her mother’s throat. Another flash when her father dashed toward the man to save his wife. As Staysia prepared her sword and rushed through the dark to besiege the attacker the lightning flashed through the sky, letting her know it was too late. When the lightning flashed the fourth time, Staysia was looking down at her mother and father as they lay lifeless on the ground.
 

The men; not fit to be called warriors, had entrenched their way into Caydence, beleaguering the innocent people and victimizing them on the basis of a false accusation of petty thievery. More than fifty people were slain that night.

Staysia had found the man’s tooth lying beside her mother. Her father must have struck him in the darkness and Staysia knew it had to be a sign for her to avenge the killer.

 
Her parents were the only two people she had left in her life, now she had no one; no one except for her unicorn named Isis. She spoke to the unicorn often and always knew she was listening, though she couldn’t talk back to Staysia. She was a great listener and her best friend.

The people of Caydence had turned on their very neighbors since the attack. They were trying to get some kind of revenge themselves. They blamed one another for stealing from the people of Gnome Hills instead of getting vengeance for the murders that took place that night. Maybe they were afraid, maybe they had all gone mad.

Maybe Staysia had gone mad too, she wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t a warrior or a swordsperson. She was a girl who had lost everything she had.

Staysia cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind. She didn’t want to think of her parents’ voices, their warmth, their life or their death.

She filled her lungs with fresh air and ran her fingers through Isis’s mane. Isis neighed and stood on her hind legs, kicking her hooves in the air. “Easy now, Isis! What is it girl?” Staysia asked her. Isis turned and swung her head around in the direction of the Troll Bridge. “Oh no ya don’t! We are going this way.” Staysia gently turned Isis’s head in the opposite direction.

Isis put her head down and walked slowly in the direction she was told. Staysia looked over her shoulder at the bridge one last time and then faced forward.

A Day owl’s eyes beamed from the interior of a Snow tree. Snow trees blossomed with fluffy white flowers that stayed abloom all year long. The tree bark looked like icicles that glistened in the sunlight.

Day owls were white and were prone to camouflaging themselves inside the trees of white. Staysia just loved owls. They were certainly different than other birds; certainly a special kind of bird. At least they were to Staysia, who loved most animals, some more than others. “Who, who,” said the owl. “Hello Owl,” said Staysia.

There were numerous Golden trees ahead of Staysia on the road. Golden trees had dark brown trunks and leaves of gold. They weren’t any taller or wider than most trees, but the golden leaves certainly made them stand out from most trees, and most of all, they were the trees that led to the Grandfather Tree.

The Grandfather Tree was where the fairies lived. She was excited to visit the fairies. She had never been to their home before.

She recalled a nursery rhyme her mother would tell her at bedtime. This is what her mother had said: “Through the Forest, just passed the Troll Bridge is where the tiny fairies live. Tis true they say ya get what ya give. Give to the Mother of the Fairies a fresh red rose. Hold it there just under her nose. The Mother of the Fairies will give you a sprinkle of red fairy dust, and when she does, put it in a tiny vial and wear it ‘round your neck. For the purity of the rose will guide you for always. So when you see the trees of gold, do go beyond them to the Grandfather Tree of old. Hold a tiny Fairy Princess in your hand—the sweetest and truest of all the land.”

Staysia turned as something sparkled behind her just beneath the Snow tree where the owl was perched. A rose of red grew from the ground. Fairy dust swirled around it as it sprouted.

The leaves folded over and as they did she heard tiny bells. The same sound that the wind chimes that belonged to her mother played. But it couldn’t be—the wind chimes were still there on her porch back home. Staysia slid down Isis and dropped onto the ground.

She walked towards the rose, watching it grow and bloom, petal by petal. When it stood to be a beautiful ripe rose, she knelt on the ground and plucked the flower. When she did, it turned black and shriveled up in her hand. A thorn from the stem pricked her finger before dropping to the ground and decaying right before her.

The owl spread its magnificently large wings and flew high into the sky. The sky blackened. The trees of gold lost all of their color turning black as the night. The leaves fell to the ground.

Staysia walked backwards and stood beside Isis. She turned in a circle, looking all around her and up at the sky. She noticed the stars twinkling boldly in the sky. A single star shot across the sky and onto the ground, then another and another.

Her face filled with terror. She realized all of the stars were falling onto the cold ground. A star landed in front of her and left a large imprint in the dirt then sizzled and evaporated. Staysia found herself dodging the fiery embers that fell from the sky.

When they stopped falling, an ashen face appeared in the darkness becoming the only thing Staysia could see.

Morbid and hollow-eyed, mouth tight lipped and round, allowing a serpents tongue to thrust in and out of its black lips. It had beastly, flaring nostrils and horns that jutted out each side of its god-awful pale gray, wrinkled and hairy head.

Isis kicked her hooves in the air and neighed loudly. The sound echoed throughout the now
black
forest. Staysia waited for her to finish and wrapped her arms around the unicorn’s neck. She gently kissed her nose and moved her attention to the hellish animal-like face.

“What is it that you want?” she asked in terror.

“Mortal girl!” the male voice of the morbid head that floated in nothingness replied. “Will you ever be anything but a poor mortal soul? Lost and confused, desperate and alone, as you wander the hills and roads, mountains and caves. As you search for a man who will put you in your grave alongside your father and mother. I have been watching you. You left a young man back at Troll Bridge. Ha! Ha! Good choice my dear, he was a murderer. That is why he was hurled off the bridge. The fools who threw him should have made sure he was dead before throwing him off for you to rescue. A swift hit on the head doesn’t always do the trick. Oh, I have seen it done and done right.”

“Again, what is it that you want?” she asked.

“I need something from you, something that was left behind by your father,”

“What could you possibly want of my father’s?”

“It is a map leading to the Sea Child.”

“What is the Sea Child?”

“A child who holds the key to immortality. Find the map and bring it to me. If you do, I will grant you immortality. If you do not, you will be buried beneath the earth next to your parents,” he warned.

“Is that so? You already have immortality. I am sure that for whatever reason it is you want this map it is not for good. I will not get it for you!”

“As you wish, you may be forgetting something, Staysia.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“You cannot seek your vengeance from the grave! Ha! Ha! Ha!” His evil cackle echoed and soon faded away along with his face.

The sun appeared and the colors returned to the scenery. The Golden trees were in full color. The brightness of the morning had returned.

Staysia ran her hand over Isis and looked left and right. She pushed down gently on Isis’s head and mounted her once again.

She thought about what had happened in her head; but didn’t show her concern. Not even in front of her unicorn. Staysia was a very strong-minded woman, strong-willed and determined. Whatever was to come would be played out as it was brought on.

She believed in living for the day. Living one day at a time was something her parents had instilled in her. So as for
today
, she would go beneath the trees on to the Grandfather Tree.

Her brows furrowed as she slowly looked over her shoulder, remembering the rose. There it was—there under the tree. Even the owl was in his place like before. She pressed her lips together and turned Isis around to head for the rose once again.
  

When she was closer, she slid off of Isis and plucked the rose. No darkness; no evil. She placed the rose in Isis’s mane and mounted her again, heading under the tree canopy.

The golden leaves fluttered as she rode beneath them. She rode up and down the hillocks until the road stopped and became a large field of colorful flowers. The Grandfather Tree stood in the center of the field. Staysia leaned in close to Isis’s ear. “There it is, Isis. The Grandfather Tree! Isn’t it lovely?” She clicked her tongue and Isis galloped to the humongous tree.