The city was entirely self-sufficient. For food, the rebels grew mellis upon the upper branches of the trees. Mellis was a plant that was found only in the forests of Atilta, for it could not be supported by the devolved climates of the mainlands. It was sweet in taste, much like the sugar cane or beet, except its taste was clearer and stronger. On the trunks of the trees they grew pomum , a rich fruit not unlike a combination of an orange and a pear, except that it had no outer peel or covering. It was purely fruit. These two foods were their favorites and were used to some extent in most of their dishes, not unlike sugar and salt in Eden. Yet their primary food was frondis . This was grown on giant nets that were stretched between the trees in a sort of horizontal terrace. The frondis , a vine similar to lettuce, was farmed by the Frondits: a lofty group, for they walked along the wooden frames to cultivate the plants.
For water, the rebels made a reservoir of the canopy above, channeling the rainwater along it until it emptied into wooden tanks for daily use. It came down like a waterfall into the tanks, where certain plants were cultivated to purify it. The water thus collected was transported throughout the city via wooden pipes, flowing downward until it finally came out into a stream on the ground below. A series of aquatic plants were grown in the stream: whatever contaminants were left in the water were quickly removed as it flowed to the ocean.
Many of the rebels never walked upon the ground. Yet this did not mean they stayed in their city. Travel through the forest roads was unsafe – for those who were unarmed – and the majority of the rebels were peaceful folk, only involved in the war as those who could not escape it. They took sides, but were not partisans. To facilitate their travels, a roadway was built hundreds of feet above the ground, in the upper branches of the trees. Since the trees were so large in the forest, and since their canopies connected and formed a continuous framework of thick, sturdy branches over the entire forest, the rebels built the Treeway upon them. They secured boards to the branches, one after another, until a smooth roadway was formed.
The Treeway traveled in several directions from the rebel city, and continued in each until the forest emptied into the ocean. The first branch traveled to Eden, directly south of the tree city. The second traveled southwest, to the rebel harbor, and a second branch of the second road traveled from the harbor to the ancient ruins, slightly to the north of the latter. The third main roadway extended to the west coast, the independent kingdom of Lord Milada of Erlich. The height of the road rendered it invisible from below and a cloud of foliage surrounded it from all angles. Could it have been seen, however, it would have made little difference, for it could not be reached from the ground without someone above to lower a ladder.
Also at this time, far to the southwest of the rebel city, a party of about two dozen persons was traveling north, to the ancient ruins. The dawn was in its latter stages and the sun was fully above the horizon, though it could rarely be seen through the dense canopy that surrounded the Treeway. The leaves and branches surrounded them on every side, as if they traveled through a cave or a tunnel. Birds sat on either side of them as well, unconscious of their audience; and their songs were sweetly innocent.
“My strength diminishes as the sun’s grows stronger,” said Alfonzo, who led the party. His goatee was untrimmed, contrasting his otherwise prim appearance. Beside him walked Celestine.
“Yet who would fault you for it, Alfonzo?” she asked with a smile and a squeeze to his hand, which she held in her own.
“We are all worn with you,” added William. “This day has seen me twice through the forest, twice in heavy battle, and once in a duel to the death. Or rather, it would have been, had you not come to our rescue with the rebel fleet. But it would be better for you to forsake the art of war for that of love. Though they are both art, the reward of one is life and the other death.”
“Do not be fooled,” Alfonzo answered, “For though my love has long been sleeping it has not yet grown entirely cold. Perhaps it will wake soon.” He looked to Celestine for a moment, then continued. “But as a man of war, I must ask: why did Gylain retreat at our approach? We outnumbered him, but only by one, and he held The King’s Arm . Above all, why did he spare your life, William, when he grasped it in his hands?”
The Admiral slowly drew a breath and his eyes flared up for a moment, as if a spark was lit but then quickly subdued. “Absolute hatred is absolute patience,” he said, “And vengeance would rather be delayed, than carried out incompletely.”
The Griffith brothers walked alongside the Admiral, and Barnes asked, “Could it have been that Gylain was afraid for his own life? In a continued battle, he may have fallen.”
The Admiral laughed, but from hatred rather than humor. “Gylain has no fear. He has looked into the devil’s eyes and seen himself staring back. When he closes his eyes, the fires of Hades dance before him; and when he dreams, they scorch him to the soul. No, he was not afraid: only cautious.”
“How do you know Gylain so well, father?” Celestine asked.
“We were once as close as brothers.”
“Yet even brothers cannot read minds and interpret dreams.”
“I know what haunts Gylain,” the Admiral whispered faintly, like rustling leaves before the wind, “For it haunts me as well.”
They were silent for a time, until Alfonzo spoke. “The ruins are near. We can camp there safely, as I have done many times before. When we have rested we can decide our course further.”
“That would be best, Alfonzo,” said Blaine, “For they tell me we are to hold council and that we will part ways at its end. Better near than far, as they say.”
An hour later they reached the camp. There were ruins of what was once a great city scattered all through the area, for a mile in each direction. A thick wall ran around the perimeter: once mighty, but now like mere dust. There was only a foot of earthly stubble where it had once risen high into the air. The buildings were reduced to a similar state. Most of them were already engulfed into the nothingness of the past. In the center of the ruins was a temple, made of white marble and a mysterious stone with a strangely patterned grain. Thousands of years before it had been tall and majestic, with a tower above that stretched into the sky. This tower had long ago crashed into the lower portion of the temple, however, and now lay scattered across the ground. The rooms of the temple had no ceiling. The walls were tumbling over. Its center, though, remained intact, as if something within had protected it from the disaster that leveled the rest of the city.
There was a platform on the Treeway with a hole in the bottom and a rope ladder attached to the side. It was one of the exits to the ground below. The party left two soldiers guarding the platform and descended several hundred feet to the ground. Throughout the descent they remained silent, for the ruins had a heavy, solemn atmosphere. The canopy above was especially thick and blocked the light from passing into the ruins. The result was a twilight, made even darker by the fog that covered the area. Only in the center – directly above the temple – was there a break in the canopy. A single beam of sunlight fell upon it. The fog seemed to smoke as it passed through the light, writhing as if with life.
“Do not be afraid,” Alfonzo said as they came to the temple, answering his own thoughts as much as those of the others. “It is safe.” With that, he led them into the temple.
They had to pass through several smaller rooms before they reached the larger, central chamber. A thick wooden door still stood between it and the outside world. The central chamber was different from the outer ones: it had not been deteriorated by nature. The walls and ceilings still stood strong; the floor was intact, though the carpeting was mostly gone; and the furnishings remained, albeit a bit dusty. A long, narrow table stood in the center of the room and some bookshelves lined the walls. A door to the left of the entrance remained in place, but led to nothing more than a pile of ruble. A statue of a white eagle covered the wall opposite the door. It was made of diamond and grasped an altar in its claws, an altar to the god of the temple.