Shadow Tree by Jake Halpern Page B

in a counter clockwise direction, and the stream of dirt resumed and gathered force. For a moment, she panicked, fearing that she must be making a terrible racket, but she was both relieved and astounded to realize that the miniature tornado that she had created had been completely silent. She kept circling her thumb counter clockwise around the emerald until the cloud of dirt grew so thick that she began to choke. She clicked the emerald to stop, and then waited for the result. Finally, the dirt settled enough for her to see.
    What she saw was incredible.
    Instead of a small indentation in the wall, the Pen had carved a hole into the wall that was roughly two feet in diameter. She peered into the hole but could not find the end. Her pulse racing, she clicked the emerald again, turned up the Pen’s potency, and widened the opening to the hole so that she could slip though it. She was getting the hang of how to use it. Resuza crawled into the opening, half-expecting to be met with resistance in the first few feet; but she kept crawling and, after about 20 feet, the tunnel stopped at a spot where the ground turned to ice. She stopped and gingerly pressed her hand to the newly carved ceiling above her. It was ice as well, which meant that the Pen had blown through the incredibly thick walls of the slave quarters, and had only stopped when it met a substance that was not dirt. And this meant that above her was ice and snow and – above that – freedom from her prison.

Chapter 8: Back to Reality
    â€œI feel awful,” muttered Alfonso.
    â€œShh,” replied Marta. “You must whisper.”
    â€œWhere are we?” asked Alfonso softly.
    â€œNowhere good I’m afraid,” replied Marta with a weak smile. “I believe we’re in the southern foothills of the Urals. Middle of nowhere really.”
    Alfonso sat up slowly. His entire body ached – his muscles, his bones, his joints, everything. He felt as if he’d been in a brawl with an angry mob.
    â€œDo you feel like this every time you morph?” asked Alfonso. “Because if so, I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” said Marta, “It gets easier, but I won’t lie to you, it never feels great.”
    â€œOkay,” said Alfonso with a sigh. “Any good news?”
    â€œI’m afraid not,” said Marta. “I think we’re being followed. It’s probably been a few days.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œNot sure exactly,” said Marta. “But there’s more than one.”
    â€œWonderful,” said Alfonso and he managed a wry smile. He was nonetheless in a better mood. His vision had returned fully, and this gave him confidence. He glanced around, surveying his surroundings. They were well hidden in a thicket of shrubs and tall grasses; and they were situated halfway up a steep rise, which offered a sweeping view across a rocky plain below. In the distance, Alfonso could see a narrow vertical line that looked like it might be a tower. Judging by the scale of this tower – how tall it stood in relation to everything else – Alfonso knew that it had to be quite large. Something about the whole scene seemed familiar.
    â€œStrange, I feel like I’ve been here before,” said Alfonso. “But that’s impossible, right?”
    â€œMaybe you saw it in a dream,” suggested Marta. “You know, when you were in your coma.”
    â€œYeah, could be,” replied Alfonso.
    â€œThat’s kind of what happened to Roya.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œRoya,” explained Marta, “She was this other seer from Jasber – a girl seer like me.” Marta went on to explain how Roya had taken too much green ash and gone into a coma – after which, she did nothing and said nothing until, one day, she created a curious painting of a woman sleep-walking along the ledge of a building. “She begged to be taken to