Wooden Bones, page 7
Pino’s plan was to create some kind of distraction so that he and Geppetto could flee into one of the dwellings, find a pair of featherwings, then escape to the ground. It needed to go exactly right or someone would just grab them and prevent them from leaving.
It rained heavily that morning, a crackling downpour on the leafy branches, but it was over within an hour, and the sun was doing its best to pierce the trees. By the time the woodsfolk began to gather on the platform around noon, it was unusually warm for a fall day, and the air smelled heavy and rich with living things.
When they saw his suit, people began to murmur excitedly. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still a far cry from anything even the most experienced wood-carver could create.
Rather than being big and bulky like a suit of armor, his wooden suit would fit her more like a second skin, painted white with red trimmings, the joints that connected the arms and legs mostly hidden behind decorative white lace. From far away it wouldn’t even look like a wooden suit; it would look more like some courtly outfit, especially when he added the final piece: a flowing red gown woven directly into the suit’s shoulders.
Standing there next to his creation, people milling about and admiring it, Pino had one problem.
He’d begun to have second thoughts about leaving.
After five days of living among the People of the Tall Trees, he still didn’t quite feel like one of them, but he thought he might feel like one of them eventually. On each of his breaks he had watched the woodsfolk going about their lives: women carting water up from the trickling springs below; children laughing and playing with balls and stones; men returning from a hunt with rousing tales of their exploits.
They seemed like such a happy people. He really did want to stay.
Unfortunately, he had no confidence that he would be able to bring the suit to life. Of course he hoped the suit would come to life—it would make things much easier—but he wasn’t counting on it. And if he failed, then Elendrew was going to toss both him and Geppetto over the side. Better to make a run for it at the first opportunity.
When everyone’s attention was focused on her, that’s when they would make their move.
Still, watching everyone’s smiling, excited faces in the warm glow from the brightening sun, Pino hated to think about leaving. It didn’t help at all when Aki showed up on the platform. She wore a pretty yellow dress made from daffodil petals.
She beamed at him and took his hand. He smiled back. So this was how it felt to have a friend.
“What’s wrong with your hand?” she asked.
“Huh? Oh, that.” He pulled his hand away and thrust it behind him. He’d been concentrating so hard on finishing the wooden suit that he hadn’t given it much thought, even though it clearly wasn’t getting better. “It’s just, um, sore—you know, from all the working.”
“It felt like wood.”
“Yeah, sometimes it gets like that.”
“Hello, son,” said a man from behind.
The voice was so gruff and hoarse that at first Pino didn’t recognize it—but then he knew who it was. Spinning around, he saw his beloved papa leaning on a gnarled cane, his curly white hair framing his gaunt face. He was almost as thin as Pino, and his knees trembled as if he might topple at any moment. But he was alive. Alive and smiling. They’d even mended his clothes—the white shirt and brown pants looked nearly as good as new.
Words failing him, Pino wrapped his arms around Geppetto and squeezed as tight as he could.
Geppetto let out a grunt of air. “Ooof. Careful, son, I’m not all that steady on my feet yet.”
“They wouldn’t let me see you, Papa! They wouldn’t let me!”
Geppetto patted Pino’s head. “I know. It’s all right. I was sleeping most of the time anyway.”
There was so much more that Pino wanted to say, but then a hush fell over the crowd. All the heads turned and looked in the same direction—toward Elendrew’s dwelling. Pino looked as well and saw the procession approaching along the rope bridge, two women in the back, two in the front, and Elendrew sitting upon her ornately carved oak chair in the center.
Instead of her enormous, stately gown, she wore a simple white dress, one that made her look more like the child she was than a regal queen. She rode with a solemn expression, but her eyes gleamed.
The leftover rain, dripping from the wet leaves, glittered like diamonds in the shafts of sunlight. The village was so still that when the water plinked on the wooden planks, it could be heard by all.
“Are you ready, boy?” Elendrew asked.
When all eyes turned next to him, Pino found he couldn’t speak. His throat had seized up on him again.
“Ready for what?” Geppetto said.
“We’ve made a bargain, old man,” Elendrew said. “Your life for this wooden suit—one that will allow me to walk again.”
Geppetto began to protest, but Pino grabbed his arm. “It’s all right, Papa,” he said, finally managing to squeeze out some words.
“But Pino—”
“It’s ready!” Pino announced to Elendrew. He felt Geppetto’s angry glare on his face, but he couldn’t worry about that now. There was no time to explain the plan. “Put it on and I’ll—I’ll give it life.”
Everyone watched as Elendrew’s attendants maneuvered her into the suit, working her arms and legs as if she were some kind of doll. If she’d had strings, she would have made a good puppet, Pino thought, and then felt bad for thinking it.
As Elendrew’s attendants finished putting on the suit, tightening the clasps that held the pieces together, Pino took Geppetto’s hand and led him through the throng of people. When he resisted at first, Pino gave him a serious look, and Geppetto reluctantly went along.
“Where are you going?” Aki asked.
“Just need to, um, get a little better view,” Pino explained.
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
He wanted to tell her that probably wasn’t such a good idea, but since other woodsfolk had overheard their conversation and were watching them, he couldn’t very well do that. Together they wove through the people and started up one of the bridges—not going too far, of course, but far enough that there were only a handful of woodsfolk, mostly children, between them and the dwelling at the end of the rope bridge.
Close enough that when the time came, they could make a dash for the featherwings that were inside.
The thought of jumping into the swirling mists, not being able to see the ground far below, made Pino feel queasy, but he was going to do it.
When Elendrew was ready, Pino raised his voice so all could hear.
“This is very important,” he said. “I need everyone to close their eyes. I want you to close your eyes and wish very hard that you want Elendrew’s suit to come to life. It really does help. The more people that wish, the easier it is for me.”
There was murmuring. People exchanged glances.
“Go on now,” Pino said. “If you don’t do it, it may not work. Do you want that?”
There was more murmuring, and then people began to close their eyes—all but Elendrew. She stared at him in a very strange way, her eyes wide and quivering.
“You especially, Elendrew,” Pino said to her. “I need you to close your eyes and wish for it very, very hard.”
She nodded and, with a trembling lip, closed her eyes. Now was their chance. They had to be swift. Pino took Geppetto by the elbow and pushed him up the rope bridge. His papa’s eyes fluttered open, but Pino put a finger to his lips.
If Pino had gone right then without looking back, perhaps the plan would have worked exactly as he’d intended. Perhaps they would have gotten to those featherwings and escaped, leaving Elendrew and the People of the Tall Trees behind without ever having to deal with them again.
But Pino did look back. He looked back and saw something quite startling that stopped him in his tracks.
A tear rolled down Elendrew’s cheek.
It was the first of many. Her eyes were still closed, the eyelids trembling, as other tears formed tracks down her skin. Watching these tears, Pino felt his heart go out to Elendrew in a way that it hadn’t before.
He knew what that strange look on her face was about now. The same look must have been on Pino’s face not that many months ago, when he stood before the glimmering turquoise fairy as a clunky wooden copy of a boy—hoping, wishing, praying that she could transform him into a real boy.
What if the fairy had done as Pino was doing, and turned her back on him?
If that was all Pino had seen, he might still have gone—after all, his love for his papa outweighed his sympathy for Elendrew—but he also saw another thing. He also saw Aki, who was now staring at him with her eyes open. He could see that she knew what he’d been planning, and the disappointment on her face was all the proof he needed that what he was doing was wrong.
He could not leave Elendrew this way.
With a sigh, he started back through the throng of people. When Geppetto started after him, Pino shook his head. The creak of his footsteps on the planks turned a few heads his way, encouraging people to open their eyes. Elendrew, cheeks glistening with her tears, also looked at him.
“Well?” she said. “Have you failed me?”
“There’s one more thing,” Pino said.
The entire village watched him approach. Pino did not know if his touch was required to make his gift work, but it seemed like it was, and he couldn’t afford to get this one wrong. Elendrew’s gaze was already melting from hope to suspicion. To make it look impressive, he knelt before her, pressing both hands against the white wooden plates covering her shins. The paint still felt slightly tacky.
Now it was Pino who had his eyes closed, and he was the only one. He focused all his desire on bringing the wooden suit to life. He did not wish for it because he wanted to escape. He wished for it because he wanted Elendrew to have a better life.
He wanted her to experience things she hadn’t been able to experience before—strolling through the forest, hugging someone back, eating on her own rather than being fed. He wished for it out of love. He wished for it in the same way the turquoise fairy had wished for it—as a gift for someone who needed it, as an act of kindness out of the goodness of his heart.
“My queen!”
It was Olan who spoke first, but other shouts quickly rose up from all the people. When Pino opened his eyes, he saw why.
She was standing.
Kneeling before her, his hands still on her shins, Pino felt like he was looking up at some kind of god. The way she towered over him in her glorious white suit, a suit that made her as tall and as broad as any man in the village, her red robe billowing in the breeze, the sun lancing through the trees at her back, so that she was surrounded by a golden halo—there was no way to look at her as anything but a god.
And Pino had done it. He had given the suit life. It was so wonderful to be able to use his gift to help someone. Now they would be able to stay with these people and call this their home.
Everyone in the village must have looked upon their queen with the same sort of awe, because they all joined Pino in kneeling before her—heads bowed, many of them crying.
“My queen, my dear queen,” Olan whispered. “Now you finally have what you have long wished. Our hearts fill with joy. They fill with joy! Tell us what you need—anything your heart desires!”
Elendrew stepped forward. Her walk was jerky, much as it had been with Antoinette, but this did not seem to bother her. She still gazed at her new body with amazement. Pino, watching her closely, scooted out of the way. What would be the first thing she would want to do? Pino remembered the first thing he had wanted to do when he was transformed: He had wanted to hug his papa. He had wanted to tell him how much he loved him.
She raised her arms, the movement coming in starts and stops, the joints creaking. She gazed at her outstretched hands, sheathed with wooden gloves, the fingers grasping at the air. Then she turned her gaze toward Olan.
“There is only one thing my heart desires,” she said. “There is only one thing, and now I can make it happen. Finally, after all these years.”
She smiled a cruel smile, perhaps the cruelest smile Pino had ever seen. She waited until all the people had finally looked up at her, their faces full of confusion.
“Now,” she said softly, “you will all die.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was such an unexpected thing for Elendrew to say that for a moment no one moved. Her cruel smile remained. Clouds drifted in front of the sun, darkening the forest, her red cloak deepening to a terrible shade of crimson.
Pino didn’t understand. Had she misspoken?
“My queen,” Olan said finally, “I’m afraid—I’m afraid you’ve confused us. Did you say—”
“I said I want you all to die,” Elendrew said simply.
The people shuffled on their feet. There was some nervous laughter. But Pino didn’t laugh. The words were spoken in the kind of evenhanded way, without malice or rage, that actually made him more afraid. He edged a little farther away, toward his papa.
“My queen—,” Olan began again.
“How did you think I would feel?” Elendrew retorted. She took a few lumbering steps, and people backed away quickly, giving her a wide berth. “Did you think I would be grateful? Oh yes, I suppose that’s what you would think. Because you have always been so proud of what you have done to me. You have always thought you rescued me. But you did not rescue me. You forced me to be something I never wanted to be.”
“But, my queen,” Olan protested, “if we had not brought you here—”
“Be silent!” Elendrew bellowed.
Now all the hope and love in everyone’s eyes was gone, and they gazed upon the woman in the wooden suit with newfound fear.
“Think!” she cried. “Use what little brains you have! Did I ever ask to be made your queen? Did I ever want to be forced to lead your pitiful little people? No! No! No!”
Not a single person dared respond. Some, like Pino, crept away from her, though most simply stared, dumbfounded.
“Decisions!” she shouted, arms punching the air wildly, as if she wasn’t quite in control of them. “So many decisions! Dozens of times a day you came to me asking for a decision! ‘Where should we hunt, my queen?’ ‘How bad will the winter be, my queen?’ ‘What should I do about this little bee sting, my queen?’ Bah! I did not want to be that person! I wanted to be left alone! To be left in peace! But would you listen to me? No!”
“But, my queen,” Olan said, rising shakily, “if only you would have told—”
“I did tell you, old fool! How many times did I complain of being tired? How many times did I say it would be nice to have some time alone? But what did you do? You ignored me! You even made me sleep in a room with glass walls, so that I was never free from your incessant whining! I—never—had—one—minute’s—PEACE!”
She screamed, all of her control gone, and marched around in a circle like a mad person, punching and kicking at the air as if she were fighting someone they couldn’t see. Then she stopped at her wooden chair and seized it, lifting it high in the air as if it weighed nothing at all.
With one great heave she tossed the chair at Olan. He ducked out of the way, but her strength was such that the chair sailed far past him, into the open air, and then smashed into one of the rope bridges leading to the central platform—instantly smashing it into two.
There were people on that bridge, and Pino watched them scramble to either side as the two pieces of the bridge fell. Most made it to the platforms, but a few didn’t, and Pino cringed, as he expected them to fall to their death. Fortunately, these woodsfolk were accustomed to living high among the trees, and they managed to twist their arms around the rope railings, saving themselves.
For a few seconds nobody moved, then chaos broke out among the people. There was a stampede. Olan, a pleading look on his face, approached Elendrew, but she hurled him away. He barely avoided plummeting off the edge, clinging on to the platform with his fingernails.
Elendrew’s rage was only growing. She shrieked and she screamed. She snarled and she spit. Anyone who came at her, she flung aside. She ripped up the planks and shot them through the air. One of the planks shot through a window, smashing into a lantern, and then a fire leaped out and engulfed the dwelling. The fire swept along the bridges and jumped from one house to the next, and soon the whole city in the trees was ablaze.
Smoke choked the air. There was such a crush of bodies that Pino had a hard time finding Geppetto—just frantic people bumping up against him, their faces full of panic, and it was all he could do to keep from getting trampled. Everyone was fleeing to their dwellings, and within seconds people were diving off the rope bridges with white bundles attached to their backs.
The people didn’t plummet long before their bundles opened and hundreds of whirling feathers spread behind them, slowing their descent. The opening of the chutes sounded like gunshots, but this was followed by the steady buzz of the spinning feathers. Up high the air looked like it was filled with hundreds of puffy white dandelion seeds. The featherwings swooped and banked to avoid the maze of branches.
Elendrew herself was lost in the haze of gray smoke, but her rampage continued unabated. Wooden planks shot through the air like missiles. Finally a rough hand seized Pino by the shoulder. It was Geppetto.
“Papa!” he said, coughing, waving away the smoke. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know she—”
“No time for that, son,” he said. “Let’s head for the ropefloat.”
But they managed only a few steps in that direction before they saw the ropefloat already descending, packed to the hilt with woodsfolk.
Now what would they do? They needed featherwings, obviously, but would there be any to spare? It had never been part of Pino’s plan that everyone would want to leave the city at the same time.
A small hand grasped his own. Before he could even see who it was, the person jerked him backward along the bridge. As they wove through the throngs of people, he got a glimpse of a girl’s blond hair and yellow dress.
