Chapter Eighteen

As the three wander amidst the trees calling Edna’s name, the air becomes increasingly heavy, like a blanket that is weighted by sand, and pulling down on their shoulders, heads, and thoughts. And they find themselves walking back to the village as though they have been rounded up and ushered by a large hand.

As they walk back from the tree line they feel dejected and empty-handed, and they try to remember what is so urgent.

They are asked by someone in the crowd, though who they cannot be sure.

“Where’s Edna?”

“We can’t find her.”

“She’s not there.”

“We looked, but there’s no sign of her.”

“She hasn’t come back here.”

Kadiatu’s is the first voice, and the last. The words of the others are slow to make their way to her, as though they have first had to bubble through water that divides her from her friends. She clumsily grabs the hand of the Huldu standing beside her and yanks it forward. “Edna is gone? We need to find her.”

“Yes, we do,” someone answers.

The blood in Kadiatu’s limbs pulses lazily, and the voices of others continue to swim in the air while she tries to hear. Tears begin to flow down her cheeks—which feel like warm cotton balls—and her head swims in the air with the words she is trying to capture.

Edna wakes in a different place from where she had fallen asleep. The trees are no longer above her but behind her. She instinctively pats the ground to retrieve her cane, then upon grabbing it, she remembers she does not have it anymore, so she releases it and pulls her hand back. She lays there for a moment, cursing the dragons for burning it. Then her eyes widen.

“What in the world?” she says, looking towards her side. Her cane is there, but it is not wooden; it is her aluminum cane from home. She sits up, careful not to pull on her left arm. When she looks at her arm to check on the wound, the sleeve of her blouse covers it, the same sleeve that Gargana had cut away—she is wearing her blouse again, not Gargan’s spare undershirt. And her blouse is whole, along with her arm. She looks around her and tries to make sense of things. The grass below her is earth-like, the trees behind her are earth-like, too, and the sky above her is blue and full of pillowy clouds like any she would see on earth. Has it all been a dream? Is Pam playing a joke on me? Are there no such things as fairies after all? Edna’s head is heavy, and her forehead throbs.

“Pam,” she calls out, hoping that Pixie or Twynne will come instead. Silence. “Pam, please don’t ignore me.” Silence. “Pixie…Twynne…Kadiatu?” The silence is like a vacuum, stealing the names from Edna’s mouth as soon she calls them. She slowly stands and looks about her, not sure where to go. She soon hears soft whistling in the distance, and it slowly gets louder. She holds her breath while waiting to see if the whistler is human or not.

Around the line of trees, a lean whimsical body appears. Edna’s heart leaps. She thinks it is Pixie at first, for this creature, too, is covered in various shades of green and brown. But it is soon clear that the colors are brighter and more stable than Pixie’s are; they do not seem to mirror the hues of the surrounding scenery.

“Oh, hello there, ma’am,” the creature says, upon spotting Edna.

“Who are you? Where’s Kadiatu? Where are my friends?”

“Kadiatu? Not sure who that is.”

“She’s a little girl.”

“I’m Erl, a djinn. Why are you by yourself? Did your friends leave you out here alone?”

“I don’t know,” Edna says, almost yells. “I fell asleep in the Huldu village, and now I don’t know where I am.”

“The Huldu village is on the other side of this tree line; I don’t think you could’ve fallen asleep there. No one crosses the trees to that side. It’s dangerous over there.”

“Oh, you must mean the dragons! No, we defeated them. They’re not a threat any longer.”

“The dragons?” Erl laughs. “No. They were a harmless bunch. I’m not talking about them; they died off a long time ago, killed by the Huldu. It’s a sad tale. They say the dragons were killed by sharp spears, right through their eyes and mouths.”

Edna’s mouth opens, but no words come out.

“The Huldu keep to themselves, though, as long as you don’t trespass. So just make sure you keep to this side of the trees, and you’ll be fine.”

“Foolishness!” Edna says. “The Huldu are lovely, and the dragons were the ones who were dangerous. They enslaved the Huldu! Who are you; what’s your game?”

The djinn looks shocked. “My dear woman, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps, you’ve been having bad dreams, or ate the wrong berries, or maybe, well, hopefully you’re not under some spell. I’ve heard the Huldu are also into witchcraft; potions and such. Maybe you were over there, after all.” He says, and shivers.

Edna shakes her head in frustration. “No, you’re lying!”

“You poor woman, you must be under some sort of spell.”

“No!” Edna yells, as though raising her voice will protect her from his words. “No, No, No! You’re lying! Get away from me!”

“Yes, I believe it,” the djinn calmly carries on. “Why don’t you come with me? I have a good friend who’s a medicine man. He’ll help you recover.” He reaches out his hand towards her left arm, and she quickly pulls it away, fearful of his touch. From her sudden movement she feels a faint pain, which brings her relief, proof.

“This is all an illusion! I felt pain in my arm, I felt pain! You can’t trick me! I felt the pain.” Truly, pain has never felt so sweet to Edna before.

“Well, have it your way,” the djinn says. He waves his hand and Edna is back in Gargan’s undershirt, cane-less and wounded. The wound in her arm had been aggravated by her movements when she thought it was gone and has opened up again. And blood is seeping through the clean bandage.

She cries out as a sudden surge of pain shoots through her arm.

“So, this is what you enjoy? You’re an odd one.”

“I take joy in truth that comes with pain if the truth replaces a lie.”

“You want truth? Alright, I’ll give you the truth. I’m trying to help you; I can take away your pain, give you a chance to start over, to have a little fun in Storia without the responsibility of fulfilling some arduous prophecy. You should’ve been given an enchanted fairy tale experience, like all the children who come here. Instead, you’ve had a cross to bear. Storia is a big, exciting place, and you’ve barely seen any of it. Tell me, at any point during this trip have you been able to do what you wanted to do?”

“Yes!” Edna says, “and I was miserable!”

“Why were you miserable?”

“Because I was being foolish, and stubborn. Like I always am. I don’t need to do what I want to do if what I want to do is stupid. And I’m always wanting what is stupid; to protect myself rather than care for others. I’m happy for the responsibility I was given. It’s taught me that helping others is the way to protect myself from my own darned self! And I’ve learned that I don’t need to fear anything; whatever may harm my body cannot harm my soul because God is my parent. Who’s yours?”

The djinn starts laughing, a bit too maniacally for Edna’s liking. “God is your parent? Does he speak to you? Has he ever given you anything? Or does he only make demands? I can hear my god all the time because he speaks to me; and you know what he’s given me? The freedom to do what I want; have what I want, be my own master.” Erl’s voices suddenly calms, “he can be your god, too. The only reason you’re miserable when you do what you want is because you feel guilty about it. That’s what your God gives you; guilt. He shames you and he punishes you. You’re not really free to do what you want if you’re made to feel bad when you do. My god’ll give you that freedom; no judgement, no shame, complete control over yourself and your feelings. And he won’t ever punish you because,” Erl grins, as if he’s about to let Edna in on the best part, “he likes when you do whatever you want. He rewards you for being your own master.”

“That’s stupid,” Edna says. Her abrupt words seem to have smacked the grin off Erl’s face. “You sound like a spoiled child.” Edna is emboldened by the wisdom of her years. Whatever this creature’s aim is, he has obviously never dealt with an elderly woman. If there is one thing that is common knowledge among the elderly, it is that spoiled children grow up to be miserable adults.

When it fully hits Edna that this creature actually thinks he is offering her some great enticement, she begins to laugh, and she can’t stop herself. Those who are her age generally already do whatever they want without feeling unnecessary guilt about it. That is one of the gifts of old age—outgrowing the inhibitions of youth. But she knows that some guilt and regret are necessary; they are signs of one’s humanity. This djinn thinks he can entice her into giving away her humanity, and he is talking to her like she is a child who does not like that she cannot have ice-cream for dinner every night. Not to mention that she can have ice cream for dinner every night if she wants to. Which she often does, at Sunflower. All she has to do is refuse to eat her dinner, and then start asking for ice cream, and she gets what she wants.

Edna continues to laugh. She does not even care at the moment that she is obviously in the hands of someone with ill intent. The stupidity of the djinn’s effort to tempt her only strengthens her confidence that she does not need to be afraid. Edna cannot look at the djinn because she is laughing so hard, so she does not see when Erl’s anger turns to rage, and when the rage leads to the wad of spit that suddenly splatters against her face. Her laughter stops abruptly, and she wipes the saliva away.

“I’d never want to be someone who could spit in someone else’s face and not feel shame about it,” she says and turns to walk towards the tree line. Edna’s cane has disappeared, however, as it was part of the illusion, and the trees are black and ashen. The djinn grabs her left arm, causing another surge of pain.

“You think I’m gonna let you just walk away?” he says, pulling her with him, back to where he had come from. Edna would have put up a fight, but all her efforts go into not falling. He pulls on her carelessly, though he does raise his grip above her wound, to avoid the seeping blood.

They arrived at a camp full of Storia creatures, and Edna is not surprised at the many sounds of grumbling, scornful laughter, and sneering faces. The camp itself, though, does surprise her; it is clean and organized. But Edna feels an invisible filth dirtying the atmosphere. The creatures smirk at Edna as she stumbles by, and then turn their attentions to Erl.

“So, you brought her here then, did ya, Erl?” Says a little abdominous creature who grunts his words. “Couldn’t get her to believe you?” hacking cough. “Ah ha, I thought you were smooth!” When the creature finishes taunting the djinn, he laughs loudly as he walks away to drown out Erl’s retort.

Edna looks at the djinn, searching his reflection-less eyes. It occurs to her that her presence in the odd camp represents a failure for this djinn named Erl. Erl tightens his grip on Edna’s arm, which causes her to cry out in pain—the only satisfaction to be gained from his interaction with this woman. He continues to drag her along through a crowd of snickering bystanders. The sea of eyes that watch Edna struggle part in front of her as she is led to a familiar cage. Cellu, you scoundrel, she thinks, after all Gargana did for you. Erl shoves Edna into the cage, hard enough that she has to grab one of the wooden bars with her right hand to keep from falling.

He locks the cage behind her and says, “just let me know if you change your mind, have a little excitement before going back to your pathetic life.” Spit sprays at the word pathetic, and again Edna wipes his saliva away; and though his words come like a backhanded slap, she pays no more attention to the djinn. She moves to the center of the cage so nothing can reach her through the bars.

The cage is empty; no chair to sit on, no objects to use to lower to the ground, only the wooden bars that are crowded with the horrid creatures. And Edna’s arm throbs and flows with blood. She can do nothing but stand on her tired swollen legs and cry. Her shoulders, already sore and stiff, stiffen more as her chest begins to thud with her sudden sobbing. She tries to stop the tears that pour down her face, mingling with snot and saliva, but she can’t. She fears that crying will bring taunts and snickering from outside her cage, but that thought only makes her cry more. Instead of mockery, however, through her swelling watery eyes, Edna sees the blurry outlines of creatures that quickly walk away, as though sadness is contagious. Remarkably, at Edna’s weakest and most vulnerable, the wretched creatures leave her alone. She begins to feel surrounded by peace and comfort, and the feeling is so thick it seems to hold her upright. She closes her eyes and there are words spread out in the black, as though the inside of her eyelids have been written on. The following is what she sees:

The lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Edna lets her tears flow.

The comforting solitude is soon interrupted, however, for Cellu is outside her cage.

“What do you want, you traitor!” she says.

“I’ve come to check on you and see if I can get you out of this thing,” he answers.

“You should be in this cage. You should be locked up. You’re the criminal!”

Cellu’s eyes are tired, but he looks at Edna with concern. “I know,” he says, “I know. I’ve done terrible things. But I’m going to help, now; really. The Huldu and your friends are in trouble, so we need to get out of here and back to the village, quick.”

“Do you really expect me to believe you?” Edna says, then quiets momentarily, shocked at her bitter expression that is reflected in Cellu’s cool grey eyes.

“No, I have no such expectation,” he says. “Your anger and distrust are justified. All I can say is that you can trust me now, and I can hope that you will.”

Edna does notice something different about Cellu. He looks forlorn. It had never before been easy to read him.

“Okay, so how am I getting out of this cage?” Edna asks.

Cellu smiles with a look of gratitude, then inspects the cage. He grabs two of the bars and shakes them.

“Can’t you just pick the lock?” Edna asks. “It doesn’t look very complicated.”

“Oh no, I don’t dare. They’ve done something to that lock. I don’t know what, but anything other than the original key enters it and we are dead.” Cellu’s hands still hold the bars. His muscles flex and Edna sees a reminder of the old Cellu quiver through his eyes and mouth. The look is replaced with frustration, and Cellu gives a quick, almost unnoticeable shake of the head, as if trying to toss off a lingering demon.

He begins to pace around the grounds silently, listening. “We have some time, but probably not much.” He grabs the bars again, pulling them up with most of his strength to get a feel of the cage’s weight. The cage barely lifts an inch. “It’s heavy,” Cellu tells Edna, “but not impossibly heavy.” Edna does not say anything; she watches and waits.

Cellu wanders off into a patch of trees, and comes back dragging a long branch. He shoves one end of the wood under the cage, pushing down, digging through the grassy top layer. He grunts with frustration and pulls it back out. “Some roots under there,” he says, apologetically, to no one in particular. An involuntary smile spreads across Edna’s face and her trust grows. He tries again, this time positioning the branch at less of an angle, slowly digging it in under the cage and above the grass surface. Once Cellu gets the branch to poke out on the other side of the cage, he twists and pushes until a few feet of branch have made it through. He then squats and takes a deep breath, wincing at the pain he knows is coming, and grabs the other end of the branch, ready to lift it to his shoulder.

“Be ready,” he tells Edna. “If I can lift the cage, you’ll have to crawl under.”

Crawling under this cage with my arm the way it is would be impossible, Edna thinks. So, she decides that she will not have to actually do it. A strong wind will come and blow the cage away, and I’ll be able to walk out. That is what’s actually going to happen. “Yep!” Edna says aloud, and Cellu assumes Edna is getting ready to crawl. In reality, Edna is losing too much blood.

Cellu lifts the branch, putting all his strength into the lifting and the squatting. He grunts louder than he should have, and his eyes jut around in all directions through drops of sweat, watching for a sign of the enemy as he gets the limb to his shoulder. He tries to stand and the cage lifts just a little bit, but the pressure is too much on one shoulder. He loses his balance and falls forward. The limb scrapes hard at his healing skin, and Cellu clenches his teeth to keep from crying out. He gets up, shaking, and gathers his strength, then looks for another long stick. He does not find one, so he snaps off a branch from one of the trees. By this time, he is looking around him more often, and there is panic in his eyes.

Cellu now has two of the long branches, one still underneath the cage, and the other that he is thrusting under it, a shoulder’s width apart from the first. He squats again, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his teeth. He grunts again, loudly, and without care, and as soon as he gets the limbs to his shoulders, he lifts his body from a squatting position and the cage with it. There is a widening between the cage bottom and the grassy floor. Cellu’s legs are trembling, and he yells, “you’ve got to crawl under now!”

“Oh no,” Edna says, “I can’t crawl on the ground like that.” She looks around for a sign of her strong wind.

“Do it now!” Cellu’s voice comes out in forceful grunts, “I can’t keep it up much longer.”

Edna lowers to the ground as fast as she can, though it does not seem fast to Cellu. She must crouch to her knees with only one arm to catch her body weight, and then, having lowered her body halfway to the ground, she has to touch her stomach to the grassy floor, with one arm pulling her forward. Her other arm keeps bumping against her side with shots of pain on each bump.

Cellu grunts louder. He cannot get words out any longer, but Edna knows the angry sounds mean, Go faster! But part of her slacks catch the ragged edge of the cage bottom as it begins to drop and rub across her body.

“My clothes are caught!” she yells.

Cellu heaves one last painful grunt, and with all the strength left in his body he pushes upward on the branches, giving Edna a little more room, but her slacks are now caught on a root that springs out of the ground behind her. She rolls to her back and flings her legs forward, out of the cage opening. One of the branches snap and Edna, with one more push of her body, rolls the rest of herself forward. Though she only moves about an inch, that is all that is needed to get her flesh out of the way of the crashing cage. Her left arm crushes against the ground when she rolls, and the pain is so severe that she passes out.

Cellu hears steps in the distance and angry voices coming towards them. A chunk of Edna’s hair is caught under the cage and her slacks are still snagged. “This is going to hurt,” he tells the unconscious woman before grabbing at the chunk of hair wedged under the cage. He pulls on it hard and hears the snapping of white strands; Edna does not wince. He then grabs the snag in her pants and rips it from the ground, like he does with her hair, and quickly lifts Edna into his arms, springing into the trees just as a large crowd arrives at the scene. As he bounds through the trees his legs wobble and his body is in such severe pain that if not for an adrenaline rush, he might himself have fainted along with Edna.