Black

Chapter 5: Black

The pathway wound higher up the green hills like a fossilized snake. The sun was lowering in the west behind them, melting pink swirls into the darkening clouds. A pair of white Highland ponies danced together in the distance, like ghosts celebrating their short return to this life.

They sat on their trudging horses, Rowan and Huntress towering over Hawthorn and Champ, searching the endless rising land for any sight of Maylin.

Hawthorn appeared to be more interested in Donnelley, however. Ever since their departure from the barn, he had found an intense fascination with their new animal friend; his awed, crystal-eyed trance drifting in his direction more than a few times.

“Maylin!” Rowan called out. He had called her name again and again, but she never appeared. He took out his flochin and began to play, hoping to catch Maylin’s attention as well as to calm his mind.

And there, in his mind, her face appeared. He could picture everything - her yellow eyes like a glistening sun, gently burning with peace and wisdom. Her sweet little smile, skin white as a cloud, hair black as night. Her wistful laughter, her natural elegance. To Rowan, nothing in the world compared to her beauty.

“We haven’t found her yet and we’re really far away now,” Hawthorn said, whining while chewing on an apple. “It’s getting dark and we forgot to take a flashlight,” he added.

“We still have almost an hour of light left.” Rowan put his chapped lips back on his flochin and continued to churn out loud notes.

“Rowaaaan,” Donnelley cried, “Be quieter, please! while I’m enjoying your music, you have to remember my close vicinity to your mouth.”

Annoyed, Rowan shoved his flochin back in his bag. “Okay, but you told me you were here to guide me, and you haven’t even said anything.”

“You’ve been going the right way this whole time. Just keep going straight for now.”

Perhaps it was the fact that this lizard could talk and make some sense that Rowan listened to him at all. He was good company for him and his brother, and he didn’t see the harm that could come from it. He kind of liked having a creature there next to him; there was something calming about it, and he felt like he had more guidance somehow.

And yet, an unsettling feeling stirred within him.

The path led even higher until finally the lush green hill flattened. The tall grass swayed swiftly in the ocean breeze, and the air tasted crisper. Two white seabirds flew overhead. There, standing tall and alone, was a tree with many leaves.

“Hey! It’s an apple tree!” Hawthorn exclaimed. He was right- there were about one hundred or more ripe red apples on it. Oddly, they only seemed to appear as they got closer. Even the leaves looked different than they had a moment ago.

“You must both eat an apple from the tree,” Donnelley said.

“What? Why?” Rowan asked.

Hawthorn was already guiding Champ closer to the tree. He picked an apple and bit into it with delight. “Even better than Ms. Yang’s,” he mumbled through chewing.

Rowan hesitated, side-eyeing Donnelley uncertainly.

“I suggest you do what I say. We from the Otherworld know things that you might not,” Donnelley explained.

With that said, Rowan trotted Huntress up to the apple tree. An unfamiliar atmosphere was noticeable. Tiny shivers bubbled from underneath his skin. Carefully, he plucked an apple, took a breath, and bit.

“And you both have to get to the core before we can go on,” Donnelley said. Rowan rolled his eyes, wondering who, if not Donnelley, had made up these rules.

“Oh, and feed some to the horses too.”

They did as they were told.

As Rowan chewed through the rough apple skin and into the sweet inside layers, spacing out into the darkening sky, he recalled a memory from two years ago. His father, hair orange like Hawthorn’s, standing on the cliff looking out at the sea with a half-eaten apple in his hand. Rowan had been looking for him; Hawthorn had been having spurts of anxiety ever since their mother had left them, and Rowan, at wit’s end, thought that perhaps their father could help somehow. That was before he realized how truly gone their father was.

When they were done, the shriveled cores abandoned in the grass, it was almost too dark to see anything except Hawthorn’s bright orange hair.

“So what now?” Rowan asked.

“Look closely ahead of you.”

Rowan squinted his eyes and what he saw frightened him.

There, a few feet away from the apple tree, stood a single stone with a large black opening in the middle, like a cave.

The more he squinted, the more his eyes became adjusted to the dark. Now Rowan could see the pale white rock, almost as tall as the apple tree, adorned with many scratches and markings. Circles of many sizes and various lines made up some sort of mysterious pattern. The stone appeared small in length, yet deep on the inside.

Hawthorn stared intently at the cave entrance, his expression suggesting deep intrigue.

“Do we enter it?” Rowan asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

“Go ahead,” Donnelley told him. “The apples have given you Black Sight, so once you enter the cave you will be able to see despite the daaarkness.”

Rowan’s anxiety grew as he considered what to do. He thought about Maylin; his strong determination in saving her helped him decide. “Okay Thorn, let’s go in!” He called, kicking Huntress into a slow trot. Champ and Hawthorn followed closely behind.

----

The cave smelled of damp water and vegetation. Tangled vines scoured the dirt ceiling. It felt deathly yet full of life. There were things he had never seen before. White specks glided steadily through the murky tunnels like melancholic dandelions. In the tunnel to his left, drips of dark liquid fell from above. Swampy green plants were scattered around the edges of the muddy walls.

A dark cloudy mist lay stagnant in the stuffy air. He moved Huntress forward, investigating what it could be. An eerie humming noise came from inside of it. He thought it could be bugs, perhaps flies, but the balled up cloud was big and seemingly lifeless. The humming increased in volume when he moved closer.

Fearful shivers sprouted in his skin again, though at the same time he strangely felt almost numb, except for the vastness of his curiosity and wonder. With no endless sky to look up at, he felt guided, as if something was pulling him to some earthly fate. He thought of the big willow tree he and Maylin would always rest under, its roots tied deeply into the ground. He felt like that tree.

The horses seemed surprisingly calm, albeit cautious. Every now and then Huntress would let out a quivering, audible breath, almost a snort but not quite loud enough. Rowan hesitated to consider it a nicker, as those were always reserved for friendly greetings, and there was no reason for her to be doing that.

Rowan looked down to see Hawthorn gazing at the dark cloud in front of them, that same intense look in his eyes.

“Are you scared?” Rowan asked quietly.

Hawthorn cut away his deep gaze to look up at him. “No,” he said, softly. “Are you, brother?”

“No,” Rowan said. He wanted to say yes, but he knew he had to be brave.

Hawthorn twitched the corner of his lip. Rowan suspected his lie hadn’t fooled him.

Deciding to forget about the weird dark cloud, Rowan led Huntress toward the left tunnel, the only other path there was. Two spots on the ceiling dripped the black liquid; there was some distance in between. As Rowan moved closer he could see that it was somewhat thick and viscous, almost like syrup. It smelled of pen ink mixed with fish- unpleasant but tolerable.

“Try your best to avoid the black droplets. Bad things will happen.”

Rowan twitched in shock; he had practically forgotten all about Donnelley.

Worst-case scenarios flooded Rowan’s head, clouding his rationality. “What if the horses touch it but not us?” he asked worriedly. “What if they think it’s water and drink it?”

“I bet they won’t want anywhere near it from the way it smells,” Hawthorn responded.

Good point, Rowan thought, slightly ashamed. Why am I more scared than Hawthorn?

Donnelley’s rough tail lightly whipped the back of Rowan’s neck. “The horses should guide you well. Trust in them, and yourselves too, and you should make it safely throuuugh.”

Rowan liked the sound of that. Unsure of whether he was putting most of his trust in his horse or Donnelley, he continued on. He turned Huntress slightly to the left to avoid the trajectory of the first drop, then walked her diagonally across the way, avoiding a few more drops. This part was more difficult; he had her move in different directions very quickly like trying to knock the pins down on each side in a game of lawn bowls.

Without being asked, Huntress trotted daintily, dodging the last drop to her left. Finally they were on the other side.

Smiling with relief, Rowan looked back. He felt relieved again to see Hawthorn coming up behind him, Champ now trotting as well. Hawthorn’s orange hair bounced victoriously.

They exchanged a high five and light laughter for a brief moment, but the worries quickly rushed back to Rowan’s mind. Even so, he felt a new sense of rising confidence in him, unfamiliar and strange yet powerful.

They walked their horses along the narrowing tunnel, careful not to step on anything unfamiliar to them. Rowan thought he heard Champ nicker softly from below.

Hawthorn broke the human silence. “Hey Donnelley, what happens when someone actually touches the black drops?”

Rowan felt Donnelley’s head turn faster than usual in Hawthorn’s direction.

“Things that should not happen in this world.”

That was all he said as their horses carried them onward into the visible darkness.

Author's Note

Picture credit: Cave Paintings by oOo-Alouette-oOo, http://www.deviantart.com/art/Cave-Paintings-330003182

Reviews

[Marianne Rose]

Great chapter, your story moving forward with descriptive enough parts that help me visualize where they are and how they are feeling. The mystery of the cave, the apples, the black drops- all intriguing and draws me in further to see what happens next.

[Sean Cairns]

I am jealous of your ability to narrate. This flows so smoothly, with everything described in great detail, without rushing, without going too slow. The story is still very interesting and I'm still loving the colourful exterior with hints of darkness underneath. You're great at this!

[cbritto6]

Your description of the cave was deep and compelling, I enjoyed it.
"Rowan’s anxiety grew as he considered what to do" May flow easier if phrased "Rowan grew more anxious..."
"Rowan squinted his eyes and what he saw frightened him." Same kind of thing, the wording is a little awkward and could be rearranged to flow easier.
But I'm intrigued and am looking forward to the next chapter!