"Beneath the Green Tree"
Part III - "I Saw Red and You Saw Black"
***
"The garden wilted, the earth was cracked / I struck you and you struck me back / And I saw red and you saw black / Beneath the green tree."
***
When his consciousness returned, Lucian could not help but believe he was dead. He had no notion of death, having never died or seen something die, but he was pretty sure that if it was possible for him to suddenly and painfully cease to live, what he was feeling then is what it would feel like. He ached all over, and it seemed at first he could not move. His eyes seemed to refuse to focus, and showed only blackness as though he were blind. A quiet, steady ringing seemed to fill his ears.
Presently, he came to the realization that he could flex or relax his arm, and from that information he decided that he was neither dead nor paralyzed. Carefully, slowly, he pushed himself up off what he could feel to be a rough stone floor. His eyes now adjusted to the dark, and he found he could see after all as well. He looked up and gasped in amazement; the roof of the cavern (for cavern it was, he now could see) extended some vast distance above him. He recalled the events that had led him to fall: the climbing of the tree; the consuming of the star; the quarrel with Aliena. A tear came to his eye at this last recollection. It ran down his cheek and dripped with a splash onto the floor.
The cavity he was in, he theorized, must have existed long before the falling branch had split it open and thrown him into it. Undoubtedly, the hole through which he had fallen must lie somewhere above him, though the evident darkness suggested it was so high that the starlight did not - could not - shine upon him, so vast was the distance he had descended through the gray air. He doubted that any attempt at a return journey would turn to fruit, and in despair, he sat on the floor and put his head in his hands.
The ringing in his ears persisted (as did the pain throughout his body), but rather than linger around him, the sound seemed to be emanating from some foreign point. As he listened, it seemed to him that it was not at all the angry ring he had first heard, but a sort of dull boom, obscured by miles of the encompassing stone. Noting that, while uncomfortable and unceasing, the blanket of anguish could be ignored for periods of time and thus me made a mere nuisance, he collected himself from the floor and devised to discern the source of the noise that even still filled his ears.
Tracing the slope of the floor, he found that a passage opened yawningly near the lowest side of the cavity, which was nearly thirty feet wide (to his estimate) at its base. He entered this passage and proceeded down it, noting happily that although it turned sharply about several times, it continued in more or less a steady direction, and that, as he traversed it, the sound grew steadily louder. Presently, he recognized the disturbance the telltale sounds of falling water - another waterfall! - and his pace quickened slightly to carry him more quickly towards his prize.
He rounded the last corner and stopped, his breath stuck in his throat. Here was a small stream, flowing from one crack in the earth to another, undoubtedly fed by the falls he heard now sharper then ever echoing through his head. The water, however, was not what had given him pause; there was a creature in front of him, something hideous and lacking in any semblance of beauty. It was a pale-fleshed, hairless creature, wrapped in the flayed skin of some unfortunate prey animal. It was bent in an unflattering position, dipping its paw into the murky water in an effort to hydrate itself.
It grunted, its thirst apparently slaked, and urinated on the stone floor of the chamber. Lucian wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"What are you?" he said quietly. The creature turned around quickly, apparently roused by the noise. It jerked its paw out towards Lucian, and he could see that the wretch had a small, sharp-hewn stone cupped between its fingers. It was this moderately threatening item that the creature now waved menacingly at him. Lucian stepped forward, unfazed.
"I wonder how you got down here," Lucian murmured, moving past the creature towards the door. If animals can come down here, he thought, perhaps I can get out somehow.
"You can speak!" it gasped.
"So can you," Lucian said after a pause. This was interesting indeed. He had assumed that he and Aliena were unique in their intelligence - and the existence of this creature was proof of that assumption's fallacy.
The creature crossed its front legs - arms - defiantly. "Dugan always speak. Others say Dugan speak too much. Dugan smash their heads." Lucian's eyes widened. This 'Dugan' spoke of violence without care, as one might talk of walking down a forest path or bathing in a shallow pool, or a hundred other casual pastimes! Was such destruction - such evil - nothing to him?
Sorrow returned momentarily as Lucian recalled how he had similarly struck down Aliena with regard to naught but his own madness. Tears welled in his eyes, the image of her body, lying prone and lifeless, flashed before him-
"Where Dugan at?" Dugan grunted. Lucian blinked, clearing the tears away. The wretch was eyeing him with curiosity.
"I don't know," Lucian said, half to the creature and half to himself. "How did you get here, anyway?" he asked it.
"Dugan running. Water fall from the skies, and Dugan get all wet. Big boom and light. Dugan fall down hill. Then Dugan wake up here." The creature barely seemed to speak in coherence, and for a moment, Lucian wondered if perhaps it was merely mimicking him, as would a parrot or mockingbird. The account of the storm, however, rang true, and so he decided to play along.
"Where was the storm? The lightening, where was it coming from?"
"Over the hills, where the wind goes. Dugan don't like it down there." He must have been south of our valley, Lucian thought, remembering the pattern of north-flowing winds that filled the garden. He opened his mouth to ask more, but Dugan held up a grubby paw - hand.
"You ask Dugan questions. Dugan answer. Dugan ask you question but you no know the answer. Dugan's turn to ask you now." Lucian sighed and waved his hand, signaling the wretched to go on. "Are you devil?" the creature asked.
"Devil?" Lucian repeated, unsure of himself. The word was foreign to his lips, and it fit no meaning in his mind. "What is that?"
"Devil is bad one. Others tell Dugan that Devil hurt God-spirit, so God- spirit throw him to Hell. Is this Hell?"
Lucian looked around at the barren walls of stone and dirty shallows of the stream. "It might as well be," he conceded.
Dugan seemed to accept that as a yes, for he followed it with a low-growled "You Devil then?"
Lucian thought over the horrible crime he had committed, and of the awful loss of his love resultant of his unchecked ambition. He blinked another tear away, murmuring, "Yes, I suppose I am."
Dugan nodded. "Dugan think you were. Others tell Dugan he go to Hell one day. Others say he smash too many heads. Dugan never care - he smash their heads too. Then they no say he going to Hell anymore."
Lucian briefly noted the return of the wretch's violent speech, but forgot it suddenly as the implications of the wretch's lament sunk in - there were 'others'. There were more people in the world, other beings with whom he could converse. They would never fill the void Aliena had left, he knew, but at least he would not alone.
"Dugan, where are these 'others'?"
"Away, in village. Near where Dugan fall down. Maybe they here one day. Maybe not - they not bad people like Dugan. They no smash heads like Dugan does."
Lucian stroked his chin. "Perhaps I could find them."
Dugan shook his head. "Others say no one comes back from Hell."
Lucian smiled. "If I can get in, I can get out."
***
He followed the path and the sounds of the water, and the cave began to slope upwards. Dugan had elected not to join him, and so he had walked on and on alone, fighting exhaustion for as long as he could. He fell asleep on three separate occasions, waking suddenly with no memory of falling, his limbs soaked in drool and spittle. He would rise again, his muscles sore, and struggle on for as long as he could before falling again.
After what seemed months of walking, light came into view in the distance. The tunnel by now had leveled off and continued for some distance without bend or break. He felt as though he was at some high altitude, but alone beneath the surface of the earth it was impossible to know for sure.
The hours staggered by, and the light grew steadily brighter, until at last it became apparent that he had found some flaw, some break in the stone that betrayed his subterranean domain to the world above. He reached it soon after, and found that it was but a crack, a narrow slit of light no longer than his hand.
From that sliver, however, he could make a door. Summoning back his vanished strength, he pushed and scraped at the flaw, and presently it yielded to his efforts and widened until it was large enough to squeeze through. He bent and pushed his way to the outside, then stood and shielded his eyes from the blinding glare. The twilight glow of the stars seemed to have grown brighter a thousand fold whilst he had been trapped beneath the earth.
He was standing on a broad plateau. Tall grasses and the occasional cactus dotted it, and, creeping to the nearby edge, he could see the familiar garden valley and waterfall below. Seeing that he could not hope to descend at that place, he decided to follow the cliffside west, towards the region where, far below, he had discovered the river. He traced the curve of the mountaintop for a quarter of a mile or so, and then stopped, breathless.
Over the left side of the ridge - away from the garden valley - a great silver body like a bed of diamonds greeted him, glittering in the starlight. After a moment, he realized with a jolt that it was water - a vast expanse of open water, extending to the edge of his vision. Even the raging river or thundering falls that had held him prisoner paled in contrast with this massive sea, so great in diameter that he could not even see the far side. He was held enthralled by its sheer beauty, and for a few minutes, he forgot his search for Dugan's 'others'.
He was snatched from his enchantment with the sea by the sound of singing. Moreover, it was a woman's voice - Aliena! He turned quickly to ascertain from whence the voice was coming. There, on a lower area of the plateau, she sat, surrounded by mountain goats and clad in strange and exotic - to Lucian's eyes - garments: a grass skirt, a blouse of animal fur, and a hat made of river reeds. A lyre lay in her hands, and she played it as she sung. Lucian drew near, but she did not spot him. Her eyes were closed in concentration. Lucian floated around her, caressing her with his eyes.
He approached her from behind and affectionately drew his arms around her chest. Her eyes flew open in surprise, and she tried to turn to see his face. Playfully, he moved to keep behind her and held her closer. She was smiling in confusion; she did not seem to know her admirer's identity.
He leaned into her neck and kissed her lightly. Her smile faded slightly and she began to squirm. He slid his hand over her cheek and moved her head to look into his eyes.
He blinked. She was not Aliena.
At the same moment, they both screamed. She tried to push him away; he held her fast, uncomprehending. Her neck grew red where he had kissed her, and her cheek darkened at the spot where his hand had brushed it. She screamed louder, writhing in his arms. Flames erupted from her cheek and neck, and from her arms, where he clutched her. The fire engulfed her, he held her tighter still. Tears dripped from his eyes, sizzling where they touched her burning flesh.
No, no, no, he pleaded silently. Not again...
The destruction consumed her, and her screams ended, leaving Lucian clutching silently the charred mass of her flesh. The goats had scattered at the sight of the fire, and all was suddenly still. The lyre, blackened but not destroyed, lay discarded in the grass where it had fallen from the woman's startled hands. In the distance, the waves crashed on some unseen shore. Wind played with his hair. No living sound could be heard.
"So this is my punishment," he said to no one. "I cast aside my love once when I was blinded by my ambition, and now I shall never know a mortal love again. All that I hold shall turn to ash in my arms, and I shall be alone forever." He looked around. The world suddenly seemed an empty, unforgiving place. He longed to quit it forever, to end his miserable existence and find the solace of rest. Perhaps, in death, he could at last reunite with his beloved.
The cliffside was close; beyond it, the roaring sea. No one would ever find him. No one would ever know his pain. He let the woman's burnt body slide from his hands, and walked to the edge. Squeezing shut his eyes, he leapt from the edge, waiting for the collision with the sandy beach to collide with his body and at least give him peace.
It never came.
He opened his eyes after a moment, amazed to find himself floating on the air. A pair of thick, black-feathered wings had suddenly appeared, and these now held him aloft. He was quiet for a moment, confused, and then he laughed bitterly.
"So," he said, "even the solace of death is to be denied me. How ironic that he who deserves most among the world to die a tragic death shall not be allowed to die."
He heaved forward, and found that the wings responded to his commands. He gave a mighty flap and soared out above the sea. Far off, over the water, a dark cloud floated. He made for this cloud, and as he flew, the skies around him darkened as well. He reached the cloud and entered it, his jet plumes slicing through the soft ball of air. Inside, rain pelted him, stinging his eyes. Thunder boomed, assaulting his ears. Lightning flashed, blinding him.
His anger bristled at these paltry attacks, and he recalled his grief at Aliena's death; his despair at being locked beneath the ground; his sorrow at the pyre that had consumed the goat-herder woman; and his raw anger and bitterness at the death denied him. Emotions welled up within him like boiling water, threatening to explode.
He could not escape. He could not even know the relief of death. The wretched world had him trapped, he realized then, and the realization pushed him over the edge. He screamed into the storm, a fierce, inhuman scream, like the cries of some tortured animal. He tried to rip his wings from his body, and then his arms and legs and head.
His eyes flashed with the lightening. His heart beat with the thunder. His blood ran with the rain.
***
Below, the water rose. Villages sank beneath the waves, their inhabitants drowned in the wrath of the storm. The rain fed the ocean as it rose high over the edge of the ridge, sliding down into the garden beyond like righteous fury, consuming all it surveyed. The great tree which stood so long beneath the weight of the sky buckled under the weight of the surging waves, collapsing upon the flooded valley below.
The garden had died.
***
***
"The garden wilted, the earth was cracked / I struck you and you struck me back / And I saw red and you saw black / Beneath the green tree."
***
When his consciousness returned, Lucian could not help but believe he was dead. He had no notion of death, having never died or seen something die, but he was pretty sure that if it was possible for him to suddenly and painfully cease to live, what he was feeling then is what it would feel like. He ached all over, and it seemed at first he could not move. His eyes seemed to refuse to focus, and showed only blackness as though he were blind. A quiet, steady ringing seemed to fill his ears.
Presently, he came to the realization that he could flex or relax his arm, and from that information he decided that he was neither dead nor paralyzed. Carefully, slowly, he pushed himself up off what he could feel to be a rough stone floor. His eyes now adjusted to the dark, and he found he could see after all as well. He looked up and gasped in amazement; the roof of the cavern (for cavern it was, he now could see) extended some vast distance above him. He recalled the events that had led him to fall: the climbing of the tree; the consuming of the star; the quarrel with Aliena. A tear came to his eye at this last recollection. It ran down his cheek and dripped with a splash onto the floor.
The cavity he was in, he theorized, must have existed long before the falling branch had split it open and thrown him into it. Undoubtedly, the hole through which he had fallen must lie somewhere above him, though the evident darkness suggested it was so high that the starlight did not - could not - shine upon him, so vast was the distance he had descended through the gray air. He doubted that any attempt at a return journey would turn to fruit, and in despair, he sat on the floor and put his head in his hands.
The ringing in his ears persisted (as did the pain throughout his body), but rather than linger around him, the sound seemed to be emanating from some foreign point. As he listened, it seemed to him that it was not at all the angry ring he had first heard, but a sort of dull boom, obscured by miles of the encompassing stone. Noting that, while uncomfortable and unceasing, the blanket of anguish could be ignored for periods of time and thus me made a mere nuisance, he collected himself from the floor and devised to discern the source of the noise that even still filled his ears.
Tracing the slope of the floor, he found that a passage opened yawningly near the lowest side of the cavity, which was nearly thirty feet wide (to his estimate) at its base. He entered this passage and proceeded down it, noting happily that although it turned sharply about several times, it continued in more or less a steady direction, and that, as he traversed it, the sound grew steadily louder. Presently, he recognized the disturbance the telltale sounds of falling water - another waterfall! - and his pace quickened slightly to carry him more quickly towards his prize.
He rounded the last corner and stopped, his breath stuck in his throat. Here was a small stream, flowing from one crack in the earth to another, undoubtedly fed by the falls he heard now sharper then ever echoing through his head. The water, however, was not what had given him pause; there was a creature in front of him, something hideous and lacking in any semblance of beauty. It was a pale-fleshed, hairless creature, wrapped in the flayed skin of some unfortunate prey animal. It was bent in an unflattering position, dipping its paw into the murky water in an effort to hydrate itself.
It grunted, its thirst apparently slaked, and urinated on the stone floor of the chamber. Lucian wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"What are you?" he said quietly. The creature turned around quickly, apparently roused by the noise. It jerked its paw out towards Lucian, and he could see that the wretch had a small, sharp-hewn stone cupped between its fingers. It was this moderately threatening item that the creature now waved menacingly at him. Lucian stepped forward, unfazed.
"I wonder how you got down here," Lucian murmured, moving past the creature towards the door. If animals can come down here, he thought, perhaps I can get out somehow.
"You can speak!" it gasped.
"So can you," Lucian said after a pause. This was interesting indeed. He had assumed that he and Aliena were unique in their intelligence - and the existence of this creature was proof of that assumption's fallacy.
The creature crossed its front legs - arms - defiantly. "Dugan always speak. Others say Dugan speak too much. Dugan smash their heads." Lucian's eyes widened. This 'Dugan' spoke of violence without care, as one might talk of walking down a forest path or bathing in a shallow pool, or a hundred other casual pastimes! Was such destruction - such evil - nothing to him?
Sorrow returned momentarily as Lucian recalled how he had similarly struck down Aliena with regard to naught but his own madness. Tears welled in his eyes, the image of her body, lying prone and lifeless, flashed before him-
"Where Dugan at?" Dugan grunted. Lucian blinked, clearing the tears away. The wretch was eyeing him with curiosity.
"I don't know," Lucian said, half to the creature and half to himself. "How did you get here, anyway?" he asked it.
"Dugan running. Water fall from the skies, and Dugan get all wet. Big boom and light. Dugan fall down hill. Then Dugan wake up here." The creature barely seemed to speak in coherence, and for a moment, Lucian wondered if perhaps it was merely mimicking him, as would a parrot or mockingbird. The account of the storm, however, rang true, and so he decided to play along.
"Where was the storm? The lightening, where was it coming from?"
"Over the hills, where the wind goes. Dugan don't like it down there." He must have been south of our valley, Lucian thought, remembering the pattern of north-flowing winds that filled the garden. He opened his mouth to ask more, but Dugan held up a grubby paw - hand.
"You ask Dugan questions. Dugan answer. Dugan ask you question but you no know the answer. Dugan's turn to ask you now." Lucian sighed and waved his hand, signaling the wretched to go on. "Are you devil?" the creature asked.
"Devil?" Lucian repeated, unsure of himself. The word was foreign to his lips, and it fit no meaning in his mind. "What is that?"
"Devil is bad one. Others tell Dugan that Devil hurt God-spirit, so God- spirit throw him to Hell. Is this Hell?"
Lucian looked around at the barren walls of stone and dirty shallows of the stream. "It might as well be," he conceded.
Dugan seemed to accept that as a yes, for he followed it with a low-growled "You Devil then?"
Lucian thought over the horrible crime he had committed, and of the awful loss of his love resultant of his unchecked ambition. He blinked another tear away, murmuring, "Yes, I suppose I am."
Dugan nodded. "Dugan think you were. Others tell Dugan he go to Hell one day. Others say he smash too many heads. Dugan never care - he smash their heads too. Then they no say he going to Hell anymore."
Lucian briefly noted the return of the wretch's violent speech, but forgot it suddenly as the implications of the wretch's lament sunk in - there were 'others'. There were more people in the world, other beings with whom he could converse. They would never fill the void Aliena had left, he knew, but at least he would not alone.
"Dugan, where are these 'others'?"
"Away, in village. Near where Dugan fall down. Maybe they here one day. Maybe not - they not bad people like Dugan. They no smash heads like Dugan does."
Lucian stroked his chin. "Perhaps I could find them."
Dugan shook his head. "Others say no one comes back from Hell."
Lucian smiled. "If I can get in, I can get out."
***
He followed the path and the sounds of the water, and the cave began to slope upwards. Dugan had elected not to join him, and so he had walked on and on alone, fighting exhaustion for as long as he could. He fell asleep on three separate occasions, waking suddenly with no memory of falling, his limbs soaked in drool and spittle. He would rise again, his muscles sore, and struggle on for as long as he could before falling again.
After what seemed months of walking, light came into view in the distance. The tunnel by now had leveled off and continued for some distance without bend or break. He felt as though he was at some high altitude, but alone beneath the surface of the earth it was impossible to know for sure.
The hours staggered by, and the light grew steadily brighter, until at last it became apparent that he had found some flaw, some break in the stone that betrayed his subterranean domain to the world above. He reached it soon after, and found that it was but a crack, a narrow slit of light no longer than his hand.
From that sliver, however, he could make a door. Summoning back his vanished strength, he pushed and scraped at the flaw, and presently it yielded to his efforts and widened until it was large enough to squeeze through. He bent and pushed his way to the outside, then stood and shielded his eyes from the blinding glare. The twilight glow of the stars seemed to have grown brighter a thousand fold whilst he had been trapped beneath the earth.
He was standing on a broad plateau. Tall grasses and the occasional cactus dotted it, and, creeping to the nearby edge, he could see the familiar garden valley and waterfall below. Seeing that he could not hope to descend at that place, he decided to follow the cliffside west, towards the region where, far below, he had discovered the river. He traced the curve of the mountaintop for a quarter of a mile or so, and then stopped, breathless.
Over the left side of the ridge - away from the garden valley - a great silver body like a bed of diamonds greeted him, glittering in the starlight. After a moment, he realized with a jolt that it was water - a vast expanse of open water, extending to the edge of his vision. Even the raging river or thundering falls that had held him prisoner paled in contrast with this massive sea, so great in diameter that he could not even see the far side. He was held enthralled by its sheer beauty, and for a few minutes, he forgot his search for Dugan's 'others'.
He was snatched from his enchantment with the sea by the sound of singing. Moreover, it was a woman's voice - Aliena! He turned quickly to ascertain from whence the voice was coming. There, on a lower area of the plateau, she sat, surrounded by mountain goats and clad in strange and exotic - to Lucian's eyes - garments: a grass skirt, a blouse of animal fur, and a hat made of river reeds. A lyre lay in her hands, and she played it as she sung. Lucian drew near, but she did not spot him. Her eyes were closed in concentration. Lucian floated around her, caressing her with his eyes.
He approached her from behind and affectionately drew his arms around her chest. Her eyes flew open in surprise, and she tried to turn to see his face. Playfully, he moved to keep behind her and held her closer. She was smiling in confusion; she did not seem to know her admirer's identity.
He leaned into her neck and kissed her lightly. Her smile faded slightly and she began to squirm. He slid his hand over her cheek and moved her head to look into his eyes.
He blinked. She was not Aliena.
At the same moment, they both screamed. She tried to push him away; he held her fast, uncomprehending. Her neck grew red where he had kissed her, and her cheek darkened at the spot where his hand had brushed it. She screamed louder, writhing in his arms. Flames erupted from her cheek and neck, and from her arms, where he clutched her. The fire engulfed her, he held her tighter still. Tears dripped from his eyes, sizzling where they touched her burning flesh.
No, no, no, he pleaded silently. Not again...
The destruction consumed her, and her screams ended, leaving Lucian clutching silently the charred mass of her flesh. The goats had scattered at the sight of the fire, and all was suddenly still. The lyre, blackened but not destroyed, lay discarded in the grass where it had fallen from the woman's startled hands. In the distance, the waves crashed on some unseen shore. Wind played with his hair. No living sound could be heard.
"So this is my punishment," he said to no one. "I cast aside my love once when I was blinded by my ambition, and now I shall never know a mortal love again. All that I hold shall turn to ash in my arms, and I shall be alone forever." He looked around. The world suddenly seemed an empty, unforgiving place. He longed to quit it forever, to end his miserable existence and find the solace of rest. Perhaps, in death, he could at last reunite with his beloved.
The cliffside was close; beyond it, the roaring sea. No one would ever find him. No one would ever know his pain. He let the woman's burnt body slide from his hands, and walked to the edge. Squeezing shut his eyes, he leapt from the edge, waiting for the collision with the sandy beach to collide with his body and at least give him peace.
It never came.
He opened his eyes after a moment, amazed to find himself floating on the air. A pair of thick, black-feathered wings had suddenly appeared, and these now held him aloft. He was quiet for a moment, confused, and then he laughed bitterly.
"So," he said, "even the solace of death is to be denied me. How ironic that he who deserves most among the world to die a tragic death shall not be allowed to die."
He heaved forward, and found that the wings responded to his commands. He gave a mighty flap and soared out above the sea. Far off, over the water, a dark cloud floated. He made for this cloud, and as he flew, the skies around him darkened as well. He reached the cloud and entered it, his jet plumes slicing through the soft ball of air. Inside, rain pelted him, stinging his eyes. Thunder boomed, assaulting his ears. Lightning flashed, blinding him.
His anger bristled at these paltry attacks, and he recalled his grief at Aliena's death; his despair at being locked beneath the ground; his sorrow at the pyre that had consumed the goat-herder woman; and his raw anger and bitterness at the death denied him. Emotions welled up within him like boiling water, threatening to explode.
He could not escape. He could not even know the relief of death. The wretched world had him trapped, he realized then, and the realization pushed him over the edge. He screamed into the storm, a fierce, inhuman scream, like the cries of some tortured animal. He tried to rip his wings from his body, and then his arms and legs and head.
His eyes flashed with the lightening. His heart beat with the thunder. His blood ran with the rain.
***
Below, the water rose. Villages sank beneath the waves, their inhabitants drowned in the wrath of the storm. The rain fed the ocean as it rose high over the edge of the ridge, sliding down into the garden beyond like righteous fury, consuming all it surveyed. The great tree which stood so long beneath the weight of the sky buckled under the weight of the surging waves, collapsing upon the flooded valley below.
The garden had died.
***