The Ashen Oak Part 2

Author’s Note

I’m re-uploading the first part of The Ashen Oak as well. But here the highlights to the changes I made to Part One:

• ·      Split into two shorter chapters
• ·      Added Prologue to foreshadow tree and raise stakes of world/story
• ·      Fixed sources of confusion about Oddy’s malapropisms
• ·      Omitted references to tree / replaced Pa’s bedtime story with London Ruins song
• ·      Introduced Edith’s cousin Anja (though her scene still needs some work)
• ·      Added scene where town finds out about the food shortage
• ·      Removed Uncle Jay and Edith fishing scene that set her on her quest
• ·      Added decision that Uncle Jay and Freja will go find her people for help 

Regarding Chapter 3, I’d like to know if the pace is working. I didn’t want to rush Edith out of the village too soon, so I gave her another scene with her cousin and one with Oddy. I’m currently planning for Oddy to show up in the story again later. I did introduce some hints that Oddy might have dogs in the house with him, though I’m okay with that not being completely clear now. I purposely kept their barking vague, as I assumed Edith would not have any knowledge of what a dog is. I wanted to allow for a more sympathetic reason for Oddy to want so much food, and I welcome to suggestions about whether I should further develop this or not. Ultimately, I hoped Anja’s running off would feel like a smaller and more personal quest for Edith to go on than journeying to save her world right off the bat. Do you all feel that this works better and are there any areas where I could make this feel more natural or believable?

            Regarding Chapter 4, I really would like some feedback on Edith’s time alone on the boat. I tried to keep this section a bit shorter, as I feel that it’s pretty hard to sustain the story when there is only one character. I thought the character of Wernher (who will be one of the four main characters besides Edith, Anja, and one yet to be introduced) helped with this a good bit. I wanted him to come off as bit threatening, as readers and Edith don’t know his motives yet. My intent is that he is not quite who he says he is and that his “family” are actually the people manipulating the “tree” to cause the storms. Wernher is torn between fulfilling his agreement to bring them slave workers and helping Edith. I’m writing him to have feelings for Edith that she doesn’t (yet) share, especially as that might open some conflict between him and the fourth main character. I’d love some feedback on Wernher with this backstory in mind and whether you think Edith’s travelling with him happens to quickly in the story. I didn’t really want to have her wander off alone again, though it might be interesting to put her in a situation where he has to show up again and save her. Finally, I’d like some advice on whether I should put the story in the present tense instead of the past. There were a few times during part two where I found myself writing in the present because it felt a little bit more suspenseful. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

--Chris

3. Pollywog Hunter

            “Why not.” I wasn’t asking.

            “Edith,” Pa said, rubbing his eyes. “Are you really going to make me repeat ‘too dangerous’ to you? Hasn’t that soaked into everyone yet?”

            “But Uncle Jay and Aunt Freja are both going.”

            “Absolutely.” Pa sat down at our table and threw up his hands. “And there’s nothing I can do to change that. And that’s why you need to stay here to take care of Anja.” His hand drifted down to a dried mushroom on the table, and then he pulled back. “These are going to be tough times. Times that may be even worse for your cousin.”

            I studied Pa’s eyes, but they were fixed on the floor. “If you think something is going to happen, all the more reason for me to go with them. Safety in numbers.”

            Pa slammed his hand down on the table. “No more. I may have to take this from my brother, but I will not take it from you.” Pa sighed. His hand drifted to clutch his stomach. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I just want the best for you and Anja. For the whole village.” He held up a handful of the dried mushrooms. “Come and eat. We’ll all need to be strong.”

            My stomach growled at the thought of the mushrooms. They crumbled into delicious dust after just a few nibbles. “Can we at least see them off?”

Pa nodded. “We’ll go as far as the river. There, we all can say our goodbyes.”

“What’s going to happen to them, Pa? Do you think they’ll find the Northmen?”

“I think so.” Pa shifted his jaw. “They’ll find them. Now how about we get to sleep? Your uncle and aunt will be leaving at first light tomorrow.” He eased himself onto his bed.

            I pulled my box of treasures from under my bed and stared into my most prized possession: my shard of mirror. Aunt Freja had found it in London Ruins and had given it to me as a peace offering when she first came to our village and married Uncle Jay. When I was little, I would look in the mirror as a game, but now I rarely stole a glance. Pa said I every day I got older I looked like more like Ma. As I looked, her green eyes stared back at me from behind the glassy pane. “What are we to do?” I breathed, fogging the mirror up. The eyes grew misty and I put the glass away.

*

            “We love you, Anja. We will be back soon.” Aunt Freja tucked the few stray strands of Anja’s hair back under the hood of her raincoat. Uncle Jay was doing some last checks on Rol’s old fishing boat, which we hadn’t used ever since the rains got worse. Uncle Jay used to use it a lot to scavenge some floating rubbish from the bogs, and sometimes to even snag a few fish. Right now, the boat was just a sad shadow of its former self, its wooden hull bobbing up and down at the water’s edge.

            “Let me come with you, Momma.” Anja held fast to her mother’s arm.

            Aunt Freja smiled and embraced her daughter. “Min vakre jente, my beautiful girl. You must stay with your Uncle and your cousin.”

            “All ready to go, Freja,” said Uncle Jay. “It’s time, little Anja.” He patted her on the head.

            “Bring me back a gift.” Anja said, smiling and sniffling away her teetering tears.

            “We will. A gift for all of Rol. We promise.”

            I held on to Anja’s hand as her parents untethered the boat from the dock and headed off through the flooded lowlands around the hills of Rol. Their boat grew smaller and smaller until it finally disappeared in the dim gloom of the morning fog.

            “Good luck,” Pa whispered. He stared into the haze for a good deal longer, and then turned to us. “Well, that’s that. How about you girls come home for a little bit of mushroom stew?”

            “Can’t we stay here, Uncle Evan?” Anja took hold of Pa’s hand with both of hers. “Just for a little bit longer? What if Momma and Pappa forgot something? They might come back and tell me to go get it for them.”

            Pa smiled down at her. “I think they remembered everything they needed.”

            I stared at him, shaking my head.

            “But if it would make you feel, better, you can stay here with Edith for a while. Stay right here, and head back when your cousin says. Deal?”

            Anja nodded.

            “Good.” Pa turned to me and whispered into my ear. “Make sure to be home soon. There’s another storm coming in. A bad one. I feel it in my knees.”

            “Yes, Pa.”

            “See you back home.” Pa hobbled back to the village, his walking stick poking through the muddy ground.

            Anja and I stared out into the haze rising from the slimy pools of waterlogged debris as tiny raindrops pitter-pattered on our raincoats. The Sun began pushing through the mist in a pale glow, a glow that I rarely saw. I decided it would be a good omen, no matter what Pa said about the coming rain.

            “Ready to go home?” I said after a while.

“No, Edith. I’m going to follow my Momma and Pappa. Are you coming or not?”

“Don’t you think we should go back to the village? We don’t exactly have a boat, you know.”

A little smile crept across Anja’s face and she rolled her eyes. “Who needs a boat? You’ll be going with Anja, pollywog hunter extraordinaire. I know these puddles like you know your mushroom farm. Unless you’re scared of a little water.” With that, Anja leaped across the murky pool to an unseen, shallow mound of mud.

“Anja, wait!”

“Better follow quick, or you’ll be just a stick.” Anja giggled at her rhyme and hopped to another shallow pad.

“Anja, seriously. It’s not safe to go out there.”

“One, two, three. Jump.”

I leaned out over the water. Grumbling, I jumped on the first shallow patch. The water splashed up to my ankles and my boots sunk into the mud.

“Not so heavy, Edith. Hop like a little frog through the bog.”

“Anja, stop it. Pa would kill us if he saw this.”

“He’s not here. Come on, we’ll be okay. I’ve got Northman blood in me. Momma always says we were born on the water.” Anja grabbed hold of one of the old, rotten trunks of a tree jutting out of the water and clambered up.

“Long way to go, so don’t be slow.” She leapt to another tree trunk.

The glow of the Sun started to fade. “Anja, I think the storm’s coming in. We need to get back.” Then Anja began to fade as well, into the darkening mists. “Anja!”

“We have to hurry,” she called back. “It’s a long way to London Ruins.”

“What? No. No, you’re not going to London Ruins.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous!” I sighed and hopped after her. Only, I misjudged where to jump and fell up to my belly in the marshy water. By the time I made it back to shore, Anja was gone.

“Soak it all.” I muttered.

*

            Steam rose from some pipes at the top of Oddy’s hut, belching more of the pungent stink into the air. It was the kind of stink that lingered and burned your nose and the back of your throat. At least he didn’t have to worry about pests around his place. I knocked at his front door, but there was no answer. Frowning, I drummed again, harder.

            There was a string of loud, deep sounds, like some sort of hollow machinery.

            “What is it?” Oddy’s voice cried out.

            “Od--” I caught myself and began again. “Mr. Theodore. It’s me, Edith. Evan’s daughter.”

            “Why are you here? If your father thinks he can cheat me out of mine because he sends a little girl, then he’s got another thing coming. So, why don’t you get off my land before I have to come out there.”

            “No, Mr. Theodore. It’s not like that. My pa doesn’t know I’m here.”

            Silence.

            “I came to ask for your help.”

            “This isn’t a food bank.”

            “No, I’m not here about food. My cousin is missing and I need to find her.”

            “Not my problem.”

            “I can pay. You wanted triple rations, right? And my father only gave you two.”

            “Are you threatening me?”

            “No, I’m offering to give you some of my share.”

            A pause and then Oddy unbolted his door and poked out his pinched face. He looked about, probably to make sure this wasn’t some kind of trick of Pa’s. “What makes you think I can help you?

            “Anja ran off to London Ruins. You’re the only one besides my Aunt who has been through there.”

            Oddy tilted his head. His eyes seemed very distant, like the clouds beyond the clouds. “I’ve been through the Ruins, yes.”

            “How did you get there?”

            “A boat, of course”

            “Do you still have it? Can take me there?”

            His mouth rippled like a stream, and then he burst out into a peal of laughter.

“Please, I can’t get across the Floods.”

“You would have me be your guide? Oh, my dear girl, there is no way that I am coming with you to those Ruins.”

 My heart sank. “Please, Mr. Theodore. It’s for Anja. And triple rations.”

Oddy smirked and shook his head—an unpleasant sight. “What do you know about London Ruins? Scary tales to keep you in bed at night and from wandering off into the Floods?” He leaned closer to my face, close enough that I could choke on the alcohol on his breath. “Let my tell you, little girl, they’re all true, and even truer still.”

The loud sound came again in three sharp bursts.

“I know, I know, we’re all hungry!” He opened the door to his hut and gestured to me. “You want to take my boat to find your friend? Well, maybe we can arrange that.”

I swallowed and shuffled in the house. I had never been inside before and the place struck me as strange as the man himself. Pipes ran along the floor and the walls, and papers lay scattered along the ground, all arranged in shapes and patterns. Stinking steam shrieked from a boiler at the far end of the house.

“Dry your feet on the rug. Lose that dirty raincoat. I don’t want water around my house.” Oddy glared at me until I was done. “Now then, allow me to show you my notes.” He sprawled a set of thin sheets onto his table. “These are very old. Don’t touch them.”

“Is this London Ruins?”

“Mm. These are the London Ruins I saw on my journey. Now I’m willing to tell you the best way to find your friend, but you’re going to pay me your rations in advance. After all, who’s to say you’ll even make it back?”

4. Trader

Oddy’s boat was small, not much bigger than my bed. He gave me small piece of wood with purple square of what he called plaster tied to the end to paddle. There was a tiny crack in the bottom of the boat, where a bit of water flooded in. I cupped my hand and scooped out the water from the hole and the rain every few minutes.

He told me to head out along the Floods, but to cut to the left as soon as I saw London Ruins. There was a river he had taken to make it back to Rol during his wandering days, but back then the river was just a newborn, a fledgling finger off the great arm of the sea that ran through the Ruins. Now, the river was old and angry because of the rains. It would not be so happy to meet me, and would pull my boat out to sea.

Using the light of the small peat-lamp Oddy had given me, I squinted through the dense fog for any sign of Anja. I was following the path of most debris—the way that Anja would have been able to cross. Every now and again my boat would slam into one of the toothy trees that rose out of the murk, hidden by the fog. My heart would race at each crash, but I wasn’t really scared. I told myself I was just afraid of breaking the boat. Oddy had promised to keep this a secret, and provided I didn’t damage anything, I would be back to Rol by nightfall with Pa none the wiser. If Pa were to come to Oddy’s shack, Oddy was to tell him that he had sent us out on a job to collect some ingredients for his compost

“Anja!” I called out. But I was met with nothing, but the splashes of hungry rain, growing heavier over the waters. I noticed the farther away from Rol I drifted, the more the rain stung my eyes. It was getting hungrier.

I scooped handful upon handful of water out of the boat and growled at the thought of Anja. It was going to be a long, soaking trip.

*

I soon found myself dealing with the problem of what to do when night fell. My lamp had long since burned out and all attempts to relight it with debris from the water had failed. In the depths of the storm, far away from the lamps of Rol, there was nothing but darkness. I tried to squint through the rain, looking for some shape or shadow that would indicate where I should go. I was quite certainly lost.

“Anja!” I called out once more, my throat hoarse. There was no point. I’d wait until tomorrow and search some more. Silently, I cursed myself for not telling Pa. Any scolding and punishment I’d get would be better than sitting out all alone in Oddy’s boat in the middle of nowhere.

I tried not to think about all the bad things that could have happened to Anja. She was the pollywog hunter, I told myself, most fierce daughter of all the Northmen. Nothing would happen to her. But then all her possible fates began to slip to mind, pulling my thoughts down into the murk.

Shivering in the rain, I hummed along to Pa’s “London Ruins” lullaby. But what seemed so comforting back home in the warmth and light now grew eerie out here. At that moment, my boat jerked to a stop. Reaching out into the darkness, I found I had hit another of the skeletal tree trunks.

I pushed away from the trunk, and then the boat hit another, a stray branch catching onto my raincoat. I stood to try to free myself, and immediately realized my mistake. The boat tipped back and forth then flipped. I plunged into the stinking water, splashing about in the dark.

Before long, a strong current caught me, and I felt myself being pulled away from the boat. Frantic, I tried to grab hold of the tree, but it was so slick that my fingers just grazed its rotting husk. I fought in vain to swim against the current and kicked off my waterlogged boots to try to stay afloat.

I must have strayed too far to the east. The river had me and there was nothing more I could do. I craned my neck above the water and gasped for breath.

*

            When dawn finally came, I found myself drifting in the shallows of the river’s edge. The withered London Ruins towered before me. They were skeletons of jagged metal and crumbling stone. Skeletons of giants. I hadn’t seen anything that tall before. Just looking up at the ancient buildings made the world spin. I looked back to the water and staggered to shore.

            Ahead of me was a long clearing between the buildings, something that looked like the street that ran down the center of Rol, only far bigger. Stony road hurt my bare feet. I cursed as I wished I had not been stupid enough to flip Oddy’s boat. I wouldn’t have lost my boots.

            I gasped and reached into my raincoat’s pocket. The mirror was still there and undamaged. Thank the Sun, it had been spared. She had been spared.

“Guten Morgen, Fraülein!”

“What?” I jumped at the strange voice accented in a way I hadn’t heard before.

A young man was riding down the street toward me on some kind of wheeled contraption. It looked like a giant version of the carts we used to move mulch from Oddy’s shack to our house. But with this machine, the case was mostly flat and stacked with a number of boxes draped in tarps. The boy sat at the back of the machine, moving his feet up and down, making the wheels turn over the ground.

“Guten Morgen.” The young man smiled and stepped off his contraption, extending his hand. He looked impossibly clean, with his hair pulled back and his full face without any trace of grime. “It means good morning where I’m from. Now, Miss, how can I be of service?”

I held my ground. “Who are you?”

“Apologies for my rudeness, Miss. My name is Wernher. I happen to make my living as a trader through the London area. Is there any way I can be of assistance, Miss…?”

“Miss will do.” I stared at him, wary of any tricks. This Wernher wasn’t a Northman, his hair was darker and the shape of his face was wrong. Nor was he like the people of Rol. He was wiry, but in a healthy kind of way. His cheekbones didn’t show, and if Pa had said anything, that meant he was no good. “I’m looking for something.”

“Ah! Well you’ve come to the right place.” He patted the tarp-covered bundles on the front of his cart. “Why don’t you take a look at my wares?”

“Your wares?”

“Yes. I’ve made it a hobby of restoring whatever baubles I find around London. You might find just what you’re looking for in my collection. Perhaps some dry clothing?”

“I think I’ll pass.” Without turning my back on Wernher, I backed away toward one of the side streets that wasn’t flooded or choked by debris.

He held up his hands. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that. Goodbye.”

The boy pedaled his cart around the corner, following me. “I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong leg. It looks like you’re going somewhere, and it’s not safe for a young woman like yourself to wander through London alone. Allow me to give you a ride to your destination.”

“No thank you, I think I’ll manage.” My hand clutched the shard of mirror in my pocket.

“There’s no charge. I see you may be a bit financially challenged at the moment, but I’d be grateful to accept merely your company.”

My hand tightened around the glass. “No.”

Wernher was taken aback for a moment, his face turning. “Oh! I didn’t mean any disrespect. I beg your pardon. I would never, I mean…it just looked like you could use some help.” He reached into a bag piled on the cart. “Here, at least take something to eat. You look famished.” He held out a round object.

At first, I thought it was a rather large cap of a mushroom. It was a kind of light brown. I merely stared at Wernher until he took the food back.

He tore the circle apart in his hands and bit out of one half. “See? It’s good.” Swallowing, he held out the other half.  

I stared at him, unmoving.

“I can set it on the ground if you’d like. I’d rather not spoil it with mud, however.”

I stood facing him, in this sort of standoff for many more moments. Then the smell of the food drifted toward me and my stomach betrayed me. Shut up, I told it. But it was not to be quieted. I hadn’t eaten in a day and was starved from all the rowing.

“Listen, Miss, we can spend the day glaring at each other, but I don’t think that’s going to help either of us. I’m going to set this down right here and then back up. You can eat it if you want, or just leave it. Your choice.”

He did as he said, and I waited for a few more moments, and then against my better judgment I found the food in my hand. I took a careful nibble. It tasted earthy, vaguely like mushrooms, but sweeter. The outside of the food was hard and crunchy but the inside was soft.

“Guten Appetit!” Wernher said.

I felt strength start to creep back to me. “That was good. Thank you. What is it called?

Wernher tilted his head and chuckled. “Bread. We’d eat it usually with some butter or cheese, but as you see it tastes perfectly good as it is. I have some more if you’d like.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

He smiled. “I just want to help. Don’t be offended, but you look like you could use some. And honestly, the more time I’m away from my family, the better.”

“Family?”

“Yes. They’ve got their problems, but I still love them though.”

“I know the feeling.”

“Are they traders like you?”

Wernher shrugged. “I suppose. I would take you to meet them, but they haven’t the best manners.” He smiled. “So you’re looking for your family?”

Sighing, I decided to tell him. “Yes. My cousin ran away from home and I’ve been looking for her. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her? She’s a little golden-haired girl. She left to go find her mother and father. They passed through the city yesterday by boat.”

“I haven’t seen them. You’re the first person I’ve seen in a while.”

 “Do you know the best place I could look?”

“Where were her parents going?”

“To the north.” I paused. “My aunt’s tribe lives on the far side of London Ruins.”

Wernher scratched at his chin. “I haven’t heard of anyone living above London, but I’d be happy to take you there. Maybe you’ll find that your cousin found her parents, and they are all safe as sound.”

I grinned. “Safe as sound. I hope so. Do you have any more food?”

“Certainly.” He pulled another bread out of his bag.

“How long to the other side of London Ruins?”

“My tricycle can make it there in a little over a day if we leave now and I peddle hard.”

“Alright.” I felt for the mirror shard in my pocket, just in case I’d need it. “Let’s go.”

Wernher held out his hand to help me on his cart. I sat down on top of one of the boxes and he handed me another tarp to cover myself.

“Thank you. I’m Edith by the way.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Edith. Welcome to London.”
Together on Wernher’s strange contraption, we rolled our way through the foggy, rain-devoured bones of London Ruins.