Page 44 of Runes To Rain
The Band has a concert schedule soon where they plan to play some of their new music, so most of their time has been spent rehearsing. When he isn’t rehearsing, I manage to fit in some reading time with Lent, but even he is tight-lipped and tense. They’re all clearly feeling the pressure, and tempers are short, so other than breakfast and my occasional “reading dates,” with Lent, I tend to avoid them. Instead, I read in my room, sketch on the blank pages of books, or explore the mansion.
In my exploration, I find that the mansion is larger than I first thought, although many rooms are uninhabited and filled with dust. Some have old furniture covered with heavy sheets to keep the dust off, and others are empty. Seeing the large, open spaces of the empty rooms pulls at feelings buried inside me. As I consider, I realize the feeling is drawing me toward discovering, or rediscovering, skills with a weapon. The threat from theangels hangs over my head, and the idea of being able to defend myself with more skill than in my last fight presses at me.
With that thought, in a sudden rush of inspiration, I locate the broken broom I found previously during my exploration. After that, I spend some of my time cleaning and dusting one of the empty rooms until it’s fit for my use. Once the room is clean enough, I begin practicing with the handle of the broom as a makeshift sword. Because I’m confident the boys wouldn’t approve, I sneak away while they rehearse or practice magic.
Fluid, dancelike patterns emerge from my subconscious as though they’ve been there for decades instead of moments. The magic of Malam’s memories is helping me once again. Even in the short bursts of practice I carve out from my day, I feel myself improving and getting stronger. Since I’m not prepared to broach the topic of a weapon, it will have to do for now.
Afew more days pass, and we’re eating dinner in the dining room.
Fem and Reem are deep in discussion about what key one of their songs is, or should be, in.
Lent sits quietly, eating with his eyes closed as though he can’t keep them open any longer. Since they have been rehearsing late into the evening, it doesn’t surprise me that he’s tired.
Before I can encourage him to go to bed, Dio leans over and engages him in conversation. I absentmindedly pick at the food on my plate, trying to decide if I should risk a third practice session after my meal if they continue rehearsing tonight.
My attention is grabbed by something I must have subconsciously overheard in Dio and Lent’s conversation. I focus on what they are talking about and hear them disagreeing about how tall something was, “back in the day”.
I’m losing focus again, unsure why I suddenly thought Icared. I’m concentrating on how I might make the broom handle more like a sword when my focus again pulls me back to the conversation as I realize they are talking about trees.
In my memory, I can see the trees surrounding Malam, where the young boy brought me after I killed the angel. I remember not being able to see the top of the trees where they rose through the ceiling. The heavy smoke in that place nearly concealed the trunks and plants surrounding them.
Suddenly, I register that everyone in the room is staring at me, and I have the uncomfortable feeling I may have said some part of my memories out loud.
“What did you just say?” Fem asks quietly.
“I’m not sure, I was just distracted and then I heard Lent and Dio’s conversation and remembered the trees I saw after I ki—got hurt at the concert,” I say quickly. The words tumbling over themselves.
I simultaneously feel the intensity of Dio’s glare and hear him ask, “What were you going to say before you caught yourself?”
At the same time, Reem says, “What do you mean you saw trees?”
I ignore Dio and respond to Reem. Carefully, I stick to information that they won’t refute as I say, “When I left that concert, the one where my leg was injured, a small boy helped me and brought me to a place with trees where someone wrapped up my leg.”
I hear a loud snort and look at Dio, who’s shaking his head, his forehead resting against his hand, as though his head suddenly hurts.
Lent glares at him as he says, “Trees don’t exist anymore, not for centuries now. Everywhere they would have grown is either covered in paved streets or buildings. It was probably a dream you had from the pain medication, right?”
Suddenly remembering what I learned in the history bookabout how the city covers all of the land now, I wish even more that I’d kept quiet. “Yeah,” I say quietly to Lent, “that must have been it.”
They all seem to relax except Dio, who’s still shaking his head. I stand to clear my plate and bring it to the kitchen, any remaining appetite gone.
As I do so, I notice Fem looking at me thoughtfully, sitting unmoving in his chair. He’s focused on me as the others return to whatever conversation they were having.
After clearing my plate, I return to my room but leave my door open. When I hear the boys tramp back downstairs to rehearse, I escape to the empty room to practice my sword.
The focus of putting my body through the movements helps me drive the uncomfortable interaction at dinner from my mind. It’s gratifying to feel my strength, flexibility, and coordination improving.
That night, my dreams again show me the memory I saw at dinner. Although in the dream, the trees rise above my head without the ceiling to conceal them. I stare up at the leaves, the green completely concealing the blue sky that I somehow know is above.
I hear something and glance around, only to see Malam standing beneath them with a crow on his shoulder.
“You can stay awhile, but this is not your place,” he says knowingly. I can’t recall him saying that when I was here last. I walk among the trees and breathe in the smell of earth. Even though it is a dream, it feels like a balm for lungs that normally breathe poisoned air.
The next day, I eat breakfast by myself. It would appear the boys have slept in, or perhaps gone back to bed. After, I manage to escape to practice with my sword for a while. I eventually hear them stirring and quickly return to my room. As I busy myself with reading, there’s a knock on the door that I recognize as Lent’s.
“Come in,” I call with a smile.
Lent opens the door and sticks his head in.
