The Library of Fates(43)

Desperate, I held Thala’s hands, begged the trees, the sky, anything, for some sort of help, any kind of aid. But no aid came. Tears fell from my eyes as though some dam had been breached.

My mind turned to an even darker place: I had told Varun my name. I had accidentally shown him my face. I had essentially given him everything he needed to turn me in to Sikander. I had even taken his advice to wait in the woods.

My fears consumed me: terror of being caught, horror at Thala’s plight, but the Unknown was my greatest source of trepidation. We were alone and adrift, two girls who had lost everything, and I couldn’t bear to see Thala die or to be caught because of my own stupidity.

I had believed till then that what had happened to Mala and my father, or even Arjun’s capture, or crawling through that tunnel in a state of panic, was the worst thing I had ever observed, the worst things that had ever happened to me. But Thala’s cries of agony were like nothing I had ever known.

All of a sudden, her body went completely still. I froze, unable to speak or do anything, till my stomach lurched, propelling me into action. I reached for her, trying to find her pulse, some semblance of a heartbeat, some evidence that Thala, my friend, was still with me.

“Thala?” I touched her wrist, her throat. Nothing. “Thala!” I tried to slap her awake, shake her. My breath quickened in my chest, terror poisoning my blood.

And then I heard a sound that made me whip my head around, scanning the woods. A rustling, a flapping.

I saw it coming straight for me, hurtling through the sky.

My eyes desperately peered at the dark horizon as it approached, closer and closer, making my heart race.

It landed with a thud just paces from me, and I had to fight the urge to scream.

I braced myself, blocking Thala’s body with my own. In my hand, the dagger. This time I was ready to strike.





Nineteen



THE WHITE BIRD waddled toward me, squawking as it approached. It was massive, almost my size.

I gripped my dagger tightly, and we stared at each other, unblinking, for a few moments before I noticed that there was something tied to its foot. Slowly, I approached it, reluctantly putting my hand out to pet it, worried that it might bite me. But it didn’t. It simply nuzzled my palm and made a contented noise. I tentatively reached for its foot and untied a small package that I sensed was for me. In it, a glass vial, attached to a note.

I held the vial in front of me. It was filled with a thick, clear green liquid that shimmered in the moonlight. I unfolded the parchment and squinted my eyes to read it:

Amrita,

I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return to you. This is part of the antidote that your friend must take, but there’s something you have to do first: Find a tree that sparkles silver in the moonlight. Scrape off a piece of its bark. Add a pinch of the bark to the vial. It’s a potent drug. It will help her sleep. Before the sun rises, find the earliest morning dew. A few drops should do. Add them to the mixture too. Then ask all the forces of nature to help you: the earth, the sky, the wind, the rain, the sun. You will bring her back, I know it.

Varun

“Bring her back?” I said aloud to the bird before I turned back to Thala. I felt for her pulse and feared the worst. It was weak and slow, barely audible, but I knew I couldn’t give up. I had the antidote. Or at least part of it.

“Are you coming with me?” I asked the bird. It watched me, turning its head to one side. “I’m going to call you Saaras,” I said to it, remembering a story Mala used to tell me about a bird named Saaras.

I took off in search of the silver tree, scouring the woods, Saaras following me as I dodged between massive tree trunks.

“Silver in the moonlight, silver in the moonlight,” I kept repeating to myself.

I wondered why Varun hadn’t returned. I buried my feelings of disappointment and reminded myself that I had more important things to worry about. I was also simultaneously relieved that my instincts about him hadn’t been wrong: He did want to help us. He wasn’t trying to harm us.

Saaras and I wandered the forest for some time before I saw it. We were deep in the woods, and it was dark, but the tree was unmistakable—it practically glowed silver in the moonlight.

“There it is!” I whispered. I pulled my dagger from the waistband of my salvar, but as I approached the tree, my hand hit an invisible wall, sending a slight electric shock down my arm.

“What the—” I pressed my palm against the wall, and this time, it sparked at my touch, frightening me. “What is this?” I asked as I slowly circled the tree, realizing that there was some strange sort of unseen shield around it that prevented me from accessing it. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” I turned to Saaras, as though he might have some suggestions. He simply stared back at me, mute.

I thrust my dagger at the invisible wall, but it clanged against nothing and rebounded back toward me. My heart was beginning to race with panic. I got down on my knees, trying to find the roots of the tree, to no avail. They were protected under the strange invisible field too.

I stood up on my toes and tried to reach for a branch, but once again, I was stumped. The tree was somehow protected by a force that was out of my control.

I wondered if there was another silver tree before I collected myself and went in search of it, wandering the forest till the white wedge of the moon began to sink into the horizon. I was frantic by now, tripping over roots and dodging under low branches, the smell of eucalyptus the only thing helping to calm my frayed nerves. But it was clear that there was only one silver tree.