Chapter 6 – Visiting for Real

  Djanara

  The gnome’s mom was good people. Made sense.

  Her people were not. And that sat anchored in Djanara’s stomach while they drank and chatted the afternoon.

  That did not make sense.

  The wolf-folk clans of the Beast Islands had their differences, but all of them were fiercely unified in spirit. All packs together.

  She’d seen scrappy youngsters step out of line and start fights, but it would routinely result in deepened bonds after the fray. Never anything like what she’d just seen.

  That was the hatred you had for your battlefield nemesis; the son-of-a-bitch on the other side who got lucky against your best friend.

  If those elves were supposed to be their pack’s elders, that was how much they hated the smiling, cheerful-faced gnome who now spun them a yarn about her adventuring work in Highwinter.

  She really did look like a younger version of her mom. Saw where the decency came from as well.

  Djanara felt a call, somewhere in her ocean. Memories. Heroism. Her.

  “Hey,” Djanara said, after Jezza concluded her story. The gnomes looked her way. She’d been quiet for a while.

  “Do your people do anything for Yule?” Djanara asked. “It’s Yule’s Eve tomorrow.”

  Sonnja’s house had few decorations, none for the season. The main room, while comfortable and organized, seemed lonely. Only a single portrait hung on the wall. Djanara had tried not to look at it too much. It was Sonnja and Jezza, both younger. Jezza with shorter hair and paler skin. The artist had drawn them smiling, happy. But where was dad? Anyone else?

  On the boat, Jezza had told her he simply wasn’t around. She’d assumed dead. That was the only reason she’d been able to conceive of for a dad to leave their child behind. Her own father had taught her everything, led her pack into the battlefield when she came of age. Yule was as important to him as it was for mom. He’d been the one to say the war can take a break for Yule. Walked out there to the enemy commander and negotiated three days of ceasefire.

  If dad was dead, he’d be around, on the walls, in their hearts. He wasn’t. Jezza talked so openly about herself and everything she’d gotten up to since training at the university, never anything before that. Especially not dad.

  Djanara started to understand why. It made her ache.

  “There’s an old-growth evergreen in the community square,” Sonnja said. “Everyone gathers to decorate it tomorrow.”

  “How about you guys?” Djanara asked. They glanced at each other.

  “We used to put a tree up,” Jezza said, glancing at an empty corner. “When we could talk a tallfolk into helping us. That was always the harder part.”

  “Aren’t you the village healer?” Djanara felt a swell inside. “Why would you have to talk them into helping?”

  Why did she have to talk you into helping, hero? Quiet, Leila.

  “Well, healing kind of just what’s expected,” Sonnja said. “And a lot of them develop nasty feelings toward me, because I’m the one who teaches folks to read the holy texts around here.”

  “Teaching someone that doesn’t want to learn is painful,” Jezza added. “Mom just becomes someone making them do something hard they don’t wanna do.”

  “But, don’t they want-” Djanara saw the way Jezza shook her head, and the way Sonnja looked sadly away.

  All right. Enough.

  “Do you have an ax?” Djanara asked.

  * * *

  No ax, just a hatchet. Probably should’ve seen that coming. Not much of an issue.

  Out in the cold air, the sun worked its way down behind the knobs. They were in the forested patch behind Sonnja’s home, and it took little time to find a suitably young evergreen. Good size, needles looked healthy. It would work, but the gnomes had the final say.

  “This one?” Djanara asked.

  “It’s curious,” Sonnja said, moving a little closer.

  “Curious?” Djanara blinked, not expecting that response.

  “The tree is curious about us,” Jezza stood next to her mother. “Animals talk, so do the trees. Mom is better at hearing them.”

  “What’s it, uh,” Djanara hesitated, “say?”

  The fae-touched gnomes of the forests, scattered long ago, speak to trees and beasts; for tall men listen not for small things like they. That was in one of the stories. Sonnja, with reverence, approached the trunk and placed her early-wrinkled palm on it for a moment.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  She smiled, looked Djanara’s way.

  “It knows you don’t like talking,” Sonnja said. “You can just listen. Come closer.”

  “Listen for what?” Djanara stepped forward, unsure.

  “Just look,” Sonnja said. “And listen.”

  Djanara cast her gaze on the tree. Stared at its blue-green needles and spry trunk. Young roots. Melted snow, beads of water. They slid themselves ever downward to soil through softened bark.

  Silence.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Djanara blurted.

  “Try closing your eyes,” Sonnja said.

  Djanara’s lids closed, yet she saw the tree. There, on the backs of her eyes. More blue than green like this. More water too. The tree rained a torrent, formed a swelling river, flooded her world with a deep dark.

  Where do all the rivers flow?

  How do they find the sea?

  Why do they want to get there so damn badly?

  What waits beneath the waves?

  Djanara heard something without hearing it. Like whale call. She opened her eyes, the scene unchanged.

  “I-uh, something happened,” Djanara didn’t know what to make of it.

  “It loves your ocean,” Sonnja’s voice was gentle. “It would like to spend Yule with us.”

  “So can I?” Djanara gestured awkwardly with the hatchet. Sonnja nodded and stepped away.

  What was ax work for most could be hatchet work for Djanara. The two mighty swings it took to cut the tree free felt good. More polite than kicking it over, too. She caught the evergreen as it fell, paying no mind to the needles coming loose in her fur, and hoisted it upon her shoulder. Carrying it back was no issue, but the gnomes were clamoring about it like it was something impressive.

  Back inside, Sonnja and Jezza worked together to fashion a base. Sonnja located several pieces of scrap wood, and Jezza worked the weave to separate and reshape them into a makeshift tree stand. Djanara held their tree in place while the gnomes drove the base’s spokes in.

  “Alrighty,” Jezza chimed, “should be good to let go!”

  Djanara released her grip, backed up next to them. Jezza and Sonnja stood quietly with a warm glow, simply watching the tree stand tall in its corner.

  There you go, hero. That’s right.

  “We should decorate it,” Sonnja finally said.

  * * *

  Night outside. Light inside. Crackling fireplace.

  The tree felt good.

  Vibrant glass beads. Reed-hewn figurines. Hearts of green and red. Holly boughs, preserved in bees’ wax. Unspooled cotton, fluffed to resemble snow, draped lovingly through needle and branch. Upon the top, a wooden star, eight points, each with a different color paint, fading and chipping away at different speeds. The Dragonstar, the universal symbol of Dranglethi faith; all colors seen here. As was tradition, the blue-painted spoke of Tydra faced down, while they’d chosen Lanya’s green to point up. She knew the positions meant something fancy, but the Ocean Dragon was always the south spoke no matter what.

  Simple to enjoy.

  They’d let Djanara place the topper. Then they’d had dinner. Saltfish and radishes, with local herbs. She’d had better – wished she still sailed around lemon-having shores.

  Now, they sat, simply feeling the tree.

  “I should set up a light show in it,” Jezza said softly. “With music.”

  “You sound too tired for that,” Sonnja replied. “Give us the show tomorrow, alright?”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Jezza leaned back in her chair. She seemed truly relaxed for the first time since walking into that bar. Truly herself now. Showing the worlds she hid behind her eyes of clear skies.

  “Bedtime,” Jezza announced. She stood, shot a furtive glance in Djanara’s direction, then to Sonnja. “Hey mom, about that place?”

  “I found it,” Sonnja said. Jezza beamed.

  “And was she there?” Jezza asked. Sonnja grinned and nodded. That made Jezza hop in a joy that spread to Djanara’s core.

  “Okay!” Jezza said, after calming. “Definitely going to visit Lucette tomorrow.” She retreated to the far wall, where a smallfolk-size door led deeper into the house. There was a sign above it with fingerpainted words.

  “Goodnight mom, Dee-jay,” Jezza gave them one last smile before closing the door.

  Dee-jay, huh?

  That’s nicer than sailors. The Bobtail Pirate. Cratesbane. Saltiest Bitch on Deck.

  Sonnja looked her way. Kind old gnome. Let things be quiet, same as her daughter. Felt like she should say something.

  “What’s that sign say?” Djanara asked, pointing.

  “Gnomes only,” Sonnja chuckled. “It was the first thing she made after I taught her letters.”

  “Cute,” Djanara said, without really meaning to. “Really took to all that, huh?”

  “Ever since I read her stories before bed each night,” Sonnja nodded. “She always loved wizard stories the most. When she shipped off to the university, the only thing she took with her was her saga of Ringbinder tales. I think Incantus inspired her.”

  “Was he a famous wizard?” Djanara asked.

  “The Scholar in Gray?” Sonnja said. “Oh, if he’s real, he’s from a world far beyond the Fae Wilds. Stories of those places are all that find their way here.”

  “Stories, huh,” Djanara remarked.

  Tell her. She’s safe.

  “I had someone read to me too,” Djanara said.

  “Oh?” Sonnja raised her brows. Inviting.

  “Yeah, name was Leila,” Djanara continued. “I was her superior, but she was the reader. Would read to me and the boys. Inspiring stuff. Hero stuff. Get us worked up.”

  Hard times. Good times.

  “It sounds like your Leila walked Lanya’s path too,” Sonnja said. “Spread stories of healing, hope and courage.”

  Lanya. The Green Dragon.

  “She was still tough as shit,” Djanara grunted. “Didn’t get as on board with the whole peace side of it.”

  “One can walk a path, in part or full, without knowing,” Sonnja said.

  “Yeah,” Djanara trailed off. “I guess so.”

  There was a dangling thread.

  “That lady also preached the green,” Djanara said. “Doesn’t seem like she inspires.”

  “This chapter of Lanya’s Path is,” Sonnja sighed, “very particular about how things should be. In the name of peace, and all that.”

  “Why’d you stay here, if they were so,” Djanara gestured, “like that?”

  “I just wanted somewhere safe to raise Jezza,” Sonnja bit her lip. “They seemed friendly and welcoming at first. Committed to nonviolence. The problem started when I taught Jezza letters and let her start reading the holy texts directly. She didn’t stop! And I encouraged it, because of how much curiousity she displayed. Learning about the world made her seem happy. She worked through my entire collection of books, too. It led to her getting into arguments with the chapter.”

  “Not smart,” Djanara said. Smart and not smart at the same time, same as your dumb ass. Ha.

  “No, they made life very uncomfortable for her,” Sonnja said. “I was overjoyed to learn that the universities in Cintra had all dropped their fees and removed any noble lineage requirements. Woodpine’s was only twenty gold!”

  “That’d still be a lot in places,” Djanara pointed out.

  “Well, yes,” Sonnja admitted, “but not entirely unreasonable. I had enough saved still from before her dad that I was able to make it work. It got her out.”

  “And you?” Djanara asked.

  Sonnja did not respond, instead casting her gaze back on the tree.

  “Nevermind,” Djanara said, doing the same.

  It really was a nice tree.

  Djanara heaved a sigh.

  “This all makes me feel like I’m a youngster again, somehow,” Djanara said.

  “Well,” Sonnja replied, rising from her chair. “Yule is special in that way. Thank you for sharing it with us, Djanara.”

  “Yeah,” Djanara nodded. “Better than the boat, I guess.”

  “I’m getting tired. The tallfolks’ bed has fresh blankets underneath,” Sonnja said, retiring toward the gnomes-only door.

  “I’ll get the fire, ma’am,” Djanara waved. Then, alone.

  Might wind up being a nice Yule for once.