When We Hold Each Other Up, page 2
One Harmonizer walked ahead, making a path. If he touched a tree with his bare hand, it vanished, quick as a pebble in a stream, leaving a rippling haze of dust and the harsh smell of lightning. Trunks so thick I couldn’t wrap my arms around them—just gone. What was left of their life sifted to the ground, finer than sawdust. The Harmonizer’s touch didn’t even give the trees to loam or to make homes after they fell. I wanted to scream stop, but Gran said when someone created such violence, the best thing was to hide, to watch, and not act hastily unless you accidently hinder others.
The Harmonizers climbed from the front and back of the truck, five of them. They wore clean city clothes, not handmade. Their white skin, bright eyes, and height labeled them glacial Harmonizers, released when the ice melted. Uncle Miguel’s histories said the horrors of humankind’s excess had already destroyed much of what they considered civilization, and these beings from the glaciers broke apart the rest. They culled all animals to what they considered a healthy limit so the Earth could recover. Other stories said the Harmonizers just lived off spoils left behind by the dead. Uncle Miguel told both versions, and let the listeners discuss which version held more truth. Now, I understand how it’s more complicated than that, but we storytellers love to look for the simple pattern that makes us feel right, whittle it all down to one against the other.
But what were so many Harmonizers doing here? Humans that stayed in the cities lived under the Harmonizers, but not nomads like us. Once in a long season, Uncle Miguel said a loner or two would come around, like the one in the orchard, but usually they caused no trouble and left.
The tallest Harmonizer sauntered toward the cave. From this angle, the cave lip hid my family, but I sensed them just at the mouth.
He spoke fast, his words stiff and clipped short. “Who leads this little band?”
“No one,” Granmum said. “We are a family.”
The Harmonizer made a noise in the back of his throat. “Fine. We are here to give notice you are now within the city limits and considered human citizens of Haven City. As new members of the city, half of you will come with us.”
A balancing—they were balancing us without even checking to see if we already lived in harmony. Several voices demanded answers. I would have been shouting, too. The city was three days of hard walking from here. We never went closer since stories said young Harmonizers sometimes came past the outskirts and demanded balance for trespassing.
The Harmonizer hissed in their language, and I shuddered, ducking behind my boulder. The sound clawed like shivering stone and cracking ice.
Uncle Miguel, his voice breaking, yelled that we would leave, right that moment, beyond these new limits. Gran and Grandmother insisted on knowing why the city expanded so far—weren’t the Harmonizers supposed to make sure we all lived in balance with the land’s needs? Serenade and Crooner howled.
Another voice silenced all of them, coming from behind me. A screech like a tree splintering deep in the wood. I glanced toward the meadow, but no cottonwoods peaked their branches over the hillside.
Brother galloped into the clearing, with the Harmonizer from the orchard clinging to his neck. Brother reared to a stop, and the Harmonizer slid to the ground, steady.
He looked so small compared to the others. A foot shorter, thinner, his brown skin still an unhealthy, grayish cast. He stepped into the lead Harmonizer.
“Why have you come to this territory?”
The other laughed, the almost human chuckle turning into something sharp, like pebbles before a rockslide. “Looking for the troublemaker who keeps spreading word of the city expanding.” He patted the cheek of our Harmonizer(my family would hate that phrase— nothing was really ours). “Looks like my job’s done. Don’t need you scaring everyone off, friend.” He spread his hands as if he wanted to embrace.
Our Harmonizer locked hands with the larger one, grappling. A kick brought the larger one to his knees. Somehow, our Harmonizer twisted, forcing the other into a chokehold, their hands still locked.
The remaining Harmonizers lunged.
I swung over the cave’s edge, landing in a crouch. “Watch out!”
Our Harmonizer shoved away. He took a step forward, speaking in a different language that sounded like lightning curling along the edge of a storm cloud, like wind slapping across the lake.
The other Harmonizers backed off. The wounded one scrambled in the muddy snow before struggling to his feet and brushing off his city clothes so unsuitable for winter woods. His hands had reddened as if burned, and he hid them under his jacket. “Feed to your heart’s content, old one, because you better be even stronger when I return.”
They clambered into the vehicle and rumbled into the trees.
The Harmonizer kept his pose until the rumble faded, then sunk to his knees. I ran to him even as Granmum snatched at my arm.
“He’s dangerous, Rowan!”
I crouched beside him, wanting to steady him but waiting for an invitation to be touched, just as my family had taught me. How could Granmum still see him as dangerous? He had strength, yes, but he shielded us instead of threatening to take. He’d even felt bad about the apple trees, when these other Harmonizers turned old trees to dust without a second look.
He blinked and his bright eyes traced the lines of my face, like anyone met in the woods, evaluating. “Thank you. For last night.”
I offered a hand. “You made more than the balance.”
Someone gasped as his bare skin touched mine, but it felt like a normal hand, contrary to the stories of fingers hot as coals, palms searing skin to ash. I helped him stand.
So close, I confirmed my guess. Unlike the other Harmonizers, he stood a few inches shorter than me. Besides the bright eyes and angular face, he appeared nothing like them, from his dark hair streaked with gray, brown skin a few shades lighter than mine, his soft voice.
Granmum wrapped an arm around my middle and wrenched me away. She hid me behind her. “What do you want, Harmonizer?”
He raised his hands, palms up. “To repay you for the orchard.”
“Consider it paid,” Granmum said.
Uncle Miguel leaned on his cane as he walked over. He rested a hand on her back. “Hear him out. He saved our lives.”
Octavia stepped in front of Granmum. “Thank you, Harmonizer. Would you share the home for the night?”
Granmum hissed something, but Octavia just shrugged it off. The oldest stories said one should always invite a Harmonizer to stay and follow their advice on how to live in harmony, but I’d heard our friends tell of when some Harmonizers came to a home, they took and took to balance what past humankind generations had taken of the Earth. I knew, just like Octavia must have known, that our Harmonizer was not like the others.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes. Yes, very much.”
As always with hospitality, we gave him the most comfortable chair, the best food and water, though he only drank, true to the stories.
Unlike the usual nightly meal, we stayed quiet, gesturing or whispering when we needed something. He hunched in his seat, his eyes unfocused, though sometimes, I caught him watching us with barely a smile softening his angular face. As the moon rose, his leg jittered, and each night noise made him twitch. His eyes darted from us to the cave entrance, as if urging us to hurry.
Once the few dishes had been cleared and the kettle set on its tray, brewing chicory root coffee at the Harmonizer’s request, he spoke. “You know you must leave. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”
Uncle Miguel poured a mug and offered it to him. “Why is the city expanding? We’ve never had trouble before.”
He accepted the mug and murmured a thank you. “Because my kind tell ourselves we are the safety mechanism for when humankind exceeds the Earth, so the more-than-human would survive. But it’s just stories. My kind are too hungry, and there is nothing to limit us except ourselves.”
Uncle Miguel sighed. “So, it’s starting over, just like the stories warned. Nothing learned; nothing changed.”
Silence dipped, except for the cookfire’s pop-snap. Here, we worked to make balance, but before I found Gran and Grandmother, the road had shown me and Brother that not all humankind believed in balance. People tried to claim waterways or fields for their gain. Usually, neighbors would intervene. The only way to thrive was together, not one above the other.
“Can’t we stop them?” I asked.
Octavia laughed without humor, and Granmum squeezed my knee in a suggestion to keep listening before I added to the conversation.
The Harmonizer rubbed his thumb over the mug’s lip. “Some of us are trying. Usually the older ones, those of us that lived before the glaciers melted.”
Granmum sucked in a breath. “Then you must be—”
“Very old,” he said. “Ancient, I think.”
Octavia motioned to the family. “Then what would you have us do?”
He straightened his shoulders as if pulling on an attitude. “Leave. Be safe. Tell others to go over the hills and across the river, at the very least. Far as you can from Harmonizer cities, then live your lives with as much harmony as you can create.”
“That won’t help you,” I said.
Granmum hissed at me, but Grandmother elbowed her. “Let’m speak. Rowan’s had better sense than you in this one’s case.”
“Thank you,” he said, “but I don’t need help.”
“Right,” I said, “that’s why the orchard is half-dead.”
He smiled, and his eyes unfocused as if remembering. “I’ve done what I can to balance my mistake.” He stared into his mug. “Unfortunately, you must leave the trees, anyway.”
“And what will you do?” I asked.
He downed the rest of his herbal coffee. “Wait here to make sure none follow you.”
“Is that a possibility?” Uncle Miguel asked.
The Harmonizer nodded. “Yes, though I think they are more interested in me now. I’m an oddity because I’ve resisted them.”
Octavia leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Why help us? You just said your kind don’t believe in the balancing anymore. Why cross them?”
“Because what they are doing is wrong.” He stood, and his gaze swept over us. He smiled but it was false. “I’ve fought them before. Trust me, they think I’m an old runt, but they’ve forgotten how to fight their own kind. None will follow you.”
Octavia’s hand rested on the knife tied to her belt. “I’ve lived in the city before. I’m not going back. Teach us how to fight them.”
His smile flattened. “Don’t let them touch you. Ever.” He nodded at me. “Got it?”
“We know that much,” Octavia said. “We need more—how did you bring one to his knees?”
He rubbed his palms on his thighs. “I’ve picked up a trick or two. You’d do best to travel fast, stay out of reach, and if you must fight, do it from afar.”
I opened my mouth to ask how did you learn all this? but Granmum also stood. “Then we will repay you by following your advice.” She started to bow, but he shook his head.
“There’s nothing to repay. My kind is in the wrong now, and would do well to learn from you.”
Rather than sinking into the quiet talk and planning of the next day like usual, the cave flared with activity. Granmum and Grandmother organized the escape while the others followed their suggestions—what to pack and what to leave, how to load the coydogs’ sleds, what we should carry on our backs and what Brother might take, where to run if we were ambushed.
I should have been listening and helping, but I followed the Harmonizer to the cave mouth. Our planning seemed to have calmed him, as if he’d accepted his duty done. The coydogs Serenade and Crooner trotted over, whimpering and tail-wagging. He knelt in front of them, nuzzling them as if they were old friends.
I waited until the coydogs had settled at his sides. “We don’t even know your name.”
He nodded at the preparations. “They don’t want to know. It’s better that way.”
I grit my teeth. Uncle Miguel’s story theory was falling apart. A stranger had come to town, but we were also leaving on a new journey. These stories weren’t supposed to happen at the same time. The story of my family and the Harmonizer would never happen—merely two shadows passing in the wood.
He looked up at me. “Eduardo.”
I blinked. “But that’s a human name.”
He nodded over his shoulder at the others. “I was born and lived among humans. I walked the cities long before Harmonizers took control, and to everyone, I was just another human. Not some power meant to bring all into balance. As if I know what balance is any better than you.”
He tilted his head toward the stars, so much more visible after the other Harmonizers had destroyed the trees. I wanted to keep asking—who did he call family, where had he lived, how did he learn to fight? I glanced back at the cave, then decided on one more question.
I crouched beside him. “When you saved us from—the others. You took his hands. Why?”
He turned his palms upward and stared at the dirty lines. “I’m sure your family has told you the stories. Our touch is violence. Or it can be. I can hurt others of my kind, just like I could hurt you. The hands and the feet are the strongest channels of that violence.”
Granmum called for me to pack my things since we were leaving before sun-up. He was trying to scare me, though, and I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid. After all, I had helped save his life in the orchard.
“When I was on the road with Brother, before I found Granmum and Grandmother, I heard this story about a Harmonizer. They believed in balance, but if they came to a sick place, or a poisoned place, or a hungry group of humankind—they’d balance by giving. To the sick place, they’d give rest. To the poisoned place, they’d give health. To humankind, they’d give energy. They said balancing wasn’t always about taking.”
Eduardo hid his face by turning toward the stars. “It sounds like that Harmonizer regrets what he did long ago.”
“What were you running from, when we found you?”
He passed a hand over his eyes. “I forget how bright the stars are now.” That line could begin a story. If he was so old, he must hold hundreds. He chuckled, but it sounded wrong, false. “Lost again.” He motioned to the others. “Help your family. They need you.”
I backed away, watching him watch the stars. A realization washed over me: he would die tomorrow. Too many would come, and he would die—for us, strange humans who had first tried to kill him.
Chapter Two
After a few hours dozing, we crept into the starlight. The Harmonizer Eduardo wasn’t visible, but I sensed watchful eyes. As my family hurried down the trail, I fidgeted with my pack at the cave entrance. I wanted to say something, but fear and exhaustion and the unknown left my head empty.
Uncle Miguel turned back. “C’mon, Rowan.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, leaning on me instead of his cane. “I talked with him after you slept. He knows what he’s doing, and we should be grateful, not make this harder. We’re not the first to come and go by his hand. He’s been warning everyone in these new city limits.”
I let Uncle Miguel guide me to the end of the line. “He said he was lost. Did he tell you why?”
Uncle Miguel hummed. “No, but maybe he meant he was alone. Someone old as him, he’s left many behind.”
I twisted away from him and paused. “Goodbye, Eduardo.”
The cave remained silent in the fading starlight.
For a few hours, we trekked through the morning chill. The pace kept us warm until the sun rose. Usually when we walked, I kept an eye on the woods and foraged, running ahead or catching up when I fell behind, but this morning, I watched my heavy feet. I’d been left behind before, and even though Eduardo made his choice, walking away didn’t feel right.
Mid-morning, the first shriek gusted through the forest. Even miles away, it echoed and shivered the birds from the trees. More answered, deep and hollow, like an avalanche high in the mountains.
Uncle Miguel stopped mid-sentence of his walking story. He whispered, “Thank you, Harmonizer.”
“Hurry,” Grandmother said. “Fast as we can.”
My chest tightened. I swallowed hard. A screaming-gust, like wind before a wildfire swept the woods, and dead leaves floated down.
I stopped. The cry made me shiver like all those nights huddled beside Brother, hoping for a home. We’d only hurt Eduardo, abandoned him twice, and he’d only helped us. “What if he’s dying.”
“For us to live on,” Uncle Miguel said.
I shrugged off my pack. “No, that’s not what we do. We take people in and help them.”
Granmum gripped my arm. “He’s dangerous, Rowan.”
I shook her off. “How can you say that?” I faced Uncle Miguel. “That’s not what the stories tell us. You told me, ‘We do not survive because we are the fittest. We survive when we hold each other up.’ That’s what you did for me! What’s the difference between me and Eduardo?”
He bit his lip and looked at Granmum. “It’s true. We can’t separate ourselves by what feels safe. Not anymore.”
Octavia hurried over and dumped her pack, then mine. She began sorting enough supplies for several weeks into my bag.
Her actions made it real. I would leave and help him or bury what remained. My throat tightened and I choked out, “What does this mean, Uncle Miguel? If someone came and I’m leaving. I’m not following the stories you taught me.”
He hugged me. “I was wrong. We are meant to travel like so many others. We are both the stranger and the happener—just as you came to us but now leave with love. So, I have a new theory. Every story grows from love. You are acting out of love, and none of us should hinder that.”
Octavia handed me the newly sorted pack. “And love will bring you back to us.”
