Fire! Fire! The camp was on fire!

Chyarmanine passed rows of flaming huts as she ran to the north of the camp looking for a way out. There was a gap next to the big house where the men had been planting seeds and she galloped towards it. Then there was a whistle and a boom as huge ball of fire fell crashing out of the sky to land in front of her. Chyarmine skidded and fell as the ball exploded in a wall of searing, blistering flames, she screamed in pain as sparks and large embers dashed themselves against her skin, which was thick, but still felt fire.

The ball of fire were smashing into buildings and crushing the roofs as they hit, where they hit the ground they burst and sent out flames in all directions, setting fire to anything they touched and throttling the camp with their ground shaking weight.

The moon was now high above the eastern mountains, but the Gates of Winter were not being opened. Instead of the harmony of hundred of bells being rang at once, there was discordant screaming and wailing and the sad mutred sound of bells hitting the dirt as people ran to escape the fireballs.

It was Gunthaw and he had broken the Gates.

Chyarmanine turned back, trying to forget the pain that was coming from the blistered skin on her trunk and forehead. She ran back down the camp to the elephant stables but they were on fire too. She wailed a trumpet of frustration and was about to turn back again when she heard a response from the other side of the stables.

Jhabow!

She cried back to him and he called back. But there was no way around past the fire. She stepped back as the flames grew larger, but felt heat on her back. One of the flaming beams had fallen, dragging down an entire wall of the stables which now burned, penning her in tight. She felt the heat on her skin. Even if the flames did not burn her the heat would take her. She knelt down in the dirt while the fires rose around her, giving one last call for Jhabow to run to safety.

Jhabow charged through the flaming stable walls to save her. He pushed with his forehead and shovelling with his tusks as the fire burnt him, but he did not care. He wrapped his trunk under Chyarmanine and lifted her to his feet and then got behind her, pushing her through the gap to the safety of the jungle. They vowed wordlessly never to return.

////

When Sut told her that Gunthaw had returned, Seng Nu sighed in frustration at his stubbornness. Hadn’t he learned from last time? Sut said that he had brought carts with him and he was setting the carts on fire.

Seng Nu frowned, but did not have time to hold the expression, as the fireballs began to rain down. She yelled for them to bring water, but it was clear it would be too late. No one knew what to do. Everyone was looking at her, their eyes pleading with her to do something.

More and more buildings were going up in flames. “Seng Nu!” they shouted “Stop it!” “Do something!” “Save us!”.

She did not feel anger, just despair. She would not kill again. [more, on the argument in her mind]

“Run” she screamed at the men and women around her. They looked at her in confusion. Why was she not doing anything? She felt her voice rise, “Run!”. And they ran. She ran too. Into the big house, and onto the balcony to release all the doves. They flew up into the sky out of the reach of flames and smoke, away above the forest, leaving behind the smouldering anthill that was Buttersweet.

Seng Nu looked out from the balcony. Nearly half of the buildings were in flames and some had already collapsed in on themselves. On the other side she sees that the women’s dormitory is now just a bonfire.

Seng Nu is outside and she is running towards the gate. She knows she is making a sound- a simmering scream of fear and anger- all she can feel is the blood crashing like a raging wave inside her. She runs across the camp, past the burning buildings, past the running people, shouting in pain and in fear and already mourning the dead. Past the chaos and the confusion. The front gate has been torn apart and she sees Gunthaw and his army on the other side. They are not coming through yet, they are still loading their machines that launch balls of fire and she realises that he does not want to come in… he wants to destroy. She feels her own rage rising up to meet his. She will destroy him. She will destroy all of them. She is running towards them, her body is a fist of vengeance. She is about to leap into the air when she hears a wail behind her, she turns, but only in time to see a flash of grey that knocks her down and she hits the ground hard.

///

Pinkwetha found her lying in the vegetable patch by the front gate. His nose was full of smoke and soot, but he could still knew where to find Seng Nu. She smelled of apples. He poked her body with his trunk and she opened her eyes and reached up a hand so he could pull her to her feet. She groaned as she stood, her arms, legs, everything ached and felt weak. She felt like an empty cup or a dry riverbed.

She stumbled through what had once been the gate, but now was splinters. The wooden machines, the ones that had thrown the fireballs, were all smashed and the ground was scorched black.

It had been Kon who had been riding Pinkwetha. They had taken her rage for their own. Protecting her from her own deadly actions and taking the responsibility for themselves. Kon had been the eyes and Pinkwetha the body. There was guilt in both of them, deep and repressed, and it come out finally as flowers of fiery apologetic passion.

Pinkwetha had survived. He made a low whining sound. Though he could not see, neither could he sense Kon’s presence in the forest anymore.

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Seng Nu understood. Kon had gone but he had taken Gunthaw with him. The wind was whistling through the forest like a funeral song.

Seng Nu could not see either of them, but she knew from the whistling pitch of the wind that the forest was a grave today for more than just fireflies.

She looked over Pinkwetha’s body as he stood silently in mourning for Kon. There were a few black burn marks from the fire as well as gashes and cuts, made from axes, arrows and sword tips, but none had pierced too deeply into his thick grey hide.

Pinkwetha lifted her up and placed her on his back. She gave him a nudge with her hand and he carried her back into the camp. He turned to the right, past the smouldering remains of the stables and then to what had once been the rest station. It had been the first place that had been hit. The fireball had gone through the roof and set fire to the place in an instant.

Tears began to roll down her cheek. “Zaw...”

There would be no answer from the ashes,

Now and forever.

She grieved for Jin Bu too. The jealousy was gone now, though she would take it back if she could, if it brought both of them back. She remembered the baby and wept harder still.

They went on. Small fires still burned in places, but would have been pointless to put them out. One of the timber stores had collapsed and the logs lay scattered on the ground half charred. There was a body of a young girl, who seemed to have been crushed under the falling logs. It was Sut’s sister. Seng Nu remembered her name was Pita. And next to her was a baby, quite unharmed. Pinkwetha wrapped his gentle trunk around it and lifted up the sleeping infant. Seng Nu’s arms still ached, but she found the strength to take her up.

Pinkwetha carried them back to what had been the big house, but was just a pile of black smoking wood. Seng Nu picked up one of the few unburnt shards and poked around for a keepsake.

///

Men and women had begun to stumble back into the camp from the forest like ashes falling into a pond. Their faces were black with soot and their eyes were stained red from either smoke or tears. They formed a loose circle around Seng Nu, waiting for her to speak. Jakan and Sut were there, their bodies dazed but their eyes were wide and anxious, as if tomorrow was hope’s last chance. Dai and Jalin were also nearby, holding each other’s hands like innocent young lovers.

Seng Nu saw the wooden huts rebuilding themselves, saw the families return and the fields in the forest giving life. She saw generations growing old and becoming young under the awnings. Without greed or power. She saw the town growing, not against the forest but within in, even as the wood turned to stone and the buildings rose higher. Great spires sprouted from the earth, and they rose up to the sky like giant oaks of stone, piercing the canopy to become beacons, for the whole Valley.

Here we are. We are safe.

And Zaw, Jin Bu, Kon and the rest…they were now the future ghosts of loving kindness.

Their sacrifices would build this city. Not tomorrow, not a hundred years from now. But they would be remembered. Not their names, not even their actions. They had added to the pool of human choices and the water was now the slightest bit more pure. The future would be nourished by this.

Everyone else saw that City too. They saw the rows of houses set like low flowers in a grove, the musty fresh scent of new polished wood and bales of cut straw. The sound of the stone masons carving the beacons block by block. Where the river still flowed through. Where they would not be directed by the city at the river’s end anymore.

But she also saw that it was a knot the others were waiting for her to untie.

She turned her head and waited to hear what Zaw would say. But he was not there to say anything. Every time she forgot this, the memory returned like a spear in her side.

She would not stay here, but would leave, retreat like the leaves of the fingercurl plant. And the City in the Forest would remain a dream, for now at least.

Yet the dream was not over, because nothing ever ended.

And the men and women of the dream would scatter back into The Valley. But as seeds.

Epilogue

The sound of the rain drumming against the roof of the cottage was both heavy and relaxing. Seng Nu and Pansa were sitting under the awnings watching the season arrive.

Pansa sat up and nodded as if to herself, but then turned to Seng Nu. “Auntie Chyar and Uncle Jhabow are coming.”

Seng Nu listened for the telltale footsteps but heard nothing.

It was not fair.

She had done everything wrong. Had lied to Zaw. Had killed men. There were excuses for each. Zaw asked her to enchant him. The men would have killed her. But it didn’t change the fact that she had used her powers to enhance jealousy and rage.

And then the forest had rewarded her and punished Zaw and Jin Bu? How could this be fair?And now she was bringing up the daughter of the woman and man she betrayed.

She had cried and cried. But it was no use. And as the days turned there was no one else for this little girl.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes Auntie, Now they are at the river, but they are coming to visit this afternoon”

“How do you know that?” asked Seng Nu, but Pansa just shrugged. Seng Nu gave her a look and then chuckled to herself. Pansa was only 5 years old, the age when children begin to show glimpses of the adult they will be. Sh had already learnt to talk to the forest.

When she was older she would be able to stop the rain.

Later that evening, sure enough Chyar and Jhabow arrived and they picked up Pansa and passed her from trunk to trunk as she squealed in delight.

“Why do Auntie Chyar and Uncle Jhabow have those pinkyblack marks on their faces?” asked Pansa as Seng Nu put her to bed.

“There was a big fire and they had to go through it to escape”.

“Why didn’t they go around it?”

“The fire was everywhere.”

“Was I there?”

“Time for bed Pansa.” She would tell her the truth. In time.She would build a monument to Zaw and Jin Bu.

“Is that when you found me?” said Pansa, her eyes were already closing.

“Yes, I found you in a peapod sitting on a vine”.