MYOSOTIS

Chapter One

               My light footstep was the only sound—aside from the birds singing and the wind blowing the leaves—that I could hear in the garden. I was too far away from the Lily Castle now. And close to the Myosotis.

               The garden had never been the same ever since that faithful day when my mother had died. The gardeners had all but flee or died and now no one was taking care of it, all but one old man, and it was too much work for him alone. The garden had become wild. It looked deflating. Just like everything around.

               Iris wasn’t what it used to be. Ever since that day. Everything had changed. Father had never accepted Mother’s death. How could he? She was his true love, his Ipomoea. Their names were incrusted together on the Myosotis. They were both part of each other and when she had died a part of him had died. He would only feel whole again after death, in the Flora. The Heliotropes repeated that to Father every time they visited him, every time he visited them. But there was no point; my father didn’t believe it. The loss had been too great. He didn’t believe in any of it anymore. I don’t think he ever had. It was Mother who always had faith in the Flora. With her death, Father had turned all his attention to the scientific discoveries from the people in Clematis. It was weakening our city. But we couldn’t do anything about it.

               And now, with the deflating numbers of Heliotropes, all our beliefs would die soon, for what purpose was there to write our names on a big tree? How could it mean anything? I had seen them slowly disappear from the castle, one by one until there was none left. I knew there were still a few here in there in the Lower City and in other cities around, other than Iris, but not under my father’s roof. And there were no white heads among the Orchid anymore. People had stopped believing and the older ones, the one that could have changed my father’s mind had either died with my mother or been asked to accept or leave. Leaving had appealed them more.

               I walked on the gray rock path, green moss escaping from every crease in it, making its way out. We were far away enough from the castle that it wasn’t cedars creating a fence each side of the path but now it was different trees, oaks, sequoias, beeches and maples and even a few walling trees here and there. There were more of them around the river that flowed around and in garden. I could hear it, the river, making its way to the city to quench the thirst of the population. It made a loop around the castle, protecting it from unwanted enemies and also around the garden to refresh it.

               The closer and the closer I got to the Myosotis, the smaller the path was becoming. I had to watch my steps to not trip on a root or a rock.

               Of course, I could already see the majestic Tree in front of me. You could see It from anywhere in the town. There was no structure built by man bigger than It in all the Worlds. Even the Clematis castle wasn’t as big as It.

               Or at least that’s what people told me.

               The early rays of the Sun were streaming through the branches of the trees, making patterns on the ground I tried to no walk on, in a fail attempt at amusing myself. When I was younger I could spent hours here, skipping around. But now, the memories of those times were too painful to not bring an ache to my heart as I thought about them. My mother was there with me in those days…

               I took a deep breathe to clear it from those thoughts and followed the path, leading to the small temple at the edge of the majestic Tree.

               “It is early to come pay me a visit my Child,” the voice of the old man rang from the structure in front of me, making me smile.

               The Temple I had reached was surrounded by a small skirt of the Nymphaea River, water slowly sliding around it in a calm soothing sound that was oh so familiar in this place. Water, the wind in the leaves and trees cracking from it. Those were the sounds of the garden around the Myosotis.

               The Temple in itself was set on grey stone, with stairs carved in it to reach it. Even on those stairs you could see creases between them, cracks and moss escaping from it, grass and sometimes what looked like the beginning of a very very small tree. The Temple’s roof was held by a dozen columns, three on each of the sides, and there was a separation in the middle of it, a wall where there had been inscription on it, drawings, describing the beginning of Iris. But now it was fleeting, just like the green of the roof and the columns. Everything was turning to ruins…

               In that moment, as I looked at the Temple, I couldn’t help but wish to be able to stay here, to know what to do to keep it from falling apart. My mother had loved it. How could my father let it die this way? Looking at the Temple I couldn’t help but think, Will our Castle have the same faith? Will Iris have the same faith?

               Few seconds had passed since the old man had talked, but he was patient, “I thought you would be proud of my earliness,” I smiled, walking up the stairs.

               The old man, Balm—his name reflected the deep empathy and compassion he radiated—had all the knowledge of a Heliotrope but wasn’t officially one and was the only gardener left. I always wondered why none had replaced the dead and the fleeting ones, but was never eager to press the matter to my father. Anything even slightly related to my mother was forbidden from being mentioned. So now this old man, sitting crossed leg in the middle of the Temple, with his white hair and faintly hunched back, was the only one left to do all the work.

               “You will flee soon from this condemn castle Low-Lily,” Balm asked as I sat beside him, folding my feet under me.

               “It is not condemned… only abandoned,” I whispered to him.

               There was a bird singing in the distance and then the flapping of wings before the old man spoke again, in his wise voice. “And its abandonment is its condemnation.”

               This wasn’t the first time this subjected was brought on the table. And my answer was quick but strained because those words stated my worries. “Do not say such words, please…”

               Balm nodded once “If you ask Low Lily, but I am only speaking the truth,”

               Only partly in my mind…

               “My father is the real condemnation…” I whispered. I regretted it instantly.

               “One should not speak this way of her High-Lily, and especially not of her father…”

               Like with everyone in this city there were subject you shouldn’t approach, the one of father and children was one to stay clear of with this old man. He had lost his two sons the same night I had lost my mother. Ranunculus and Larkspur. They would have been great gardeners. I still had the white rose I had asked to his eldest, to give to Nasturtium, safely kept in one of my books. I would give my Future the flower once I would finally meet him, though it would be hard. That flower held a great sense of meaning for me now. An anchor to the past…

               “I am sorry. I should stay quiet sometimes,” I conceited, looking down at my open palms, resting on my lap.

               A sad smile warmed the old man face as he patted my shoulder “No. One shouldn’t keep from speaking what they feel is true. I’m simply warning you that… that you should always be careful. You will leave soon. And there are a lot of people with bad intentions out there waiting for you to make a slip like this.”

               I nodded, “Then I will be careful. I wouldn’t want to compromise anything.”

               “I trust your judgement. This alliance seems rather important to you all,” Balm thoughtfully added.

               I sighed. I didn’t use to be okay with this alliance, with my Ipomoea to the Low-Lily of Clematis. I used to hope for something more, I used to wish for freedom. But I had grown up and now I knew that this alliance wasn’t about me. It was about Iris, “We’re hoping… well I’m hoping that the alliance with the people of Clematis will change things, and maybe make our people open their eyes to the importance of this place. If it’s not our beliefs anymore it is at least our history, our past. The whole fundament of our Land is base on this very garden, on this very Tree. I simply hope people can see this,”

               “More people in this castle should have your faith,” the old man whispered, patting my shoulder again.

               I kept myself from snorting “It’s not faith… it’s merely desperation at this point. What will become of this place if we don’t do anything for it?”

               “Don’t underestimate your Land and its inhabitant Low-Lily,”

               The worry was almost tangible in my voice “But what am I supposed to do? I don’t see people fighting for this place. I barely see anyone Ipomoea on Myosotis anymore…”

               Balm took a few seconds before speaking again wearing his usual sad smile “You look so much like her…”

               “Who?” I frowned.

               “Your mother. You have the same hair, the same smile, the same kindness and strength, same will to help and save this city. You remind me so much of her,” he admitted, sighing.

               Mother…

               I stared at my fingers interlocking with each others still on my lap “You knew her well…”

               “Yes I had that chance. She could spend all her days in this garden.”

               My eyes snapped in his direction “That’s why I don’t understand why Father hates it so much!”

               Balm sighed again, trying to find the right words I think, “Some things are not always logical for us.”

               “He thinks she died because of the garden right? Because she was here when the men from the Land of Sand attacks started, she was here and if she hadn’t been here, if she had been inside the castle in her quarters she would still be alive, right? He wants this place to rot because he blames it for my mother’s death?” I could feel the truth in the words I had just spoken.

              “Yes.” Balm agreed despondently.

            “He’s illogical! I don’t see you putting the blame on this garden for your sons’ death”

            Again I regretted speaking. It was a problem I had, whenever I got worked up over something I would blur things I wished I hadn’t.

            “Logic ceases to exist when you lose your other half Low-Lily. My sons were a part of me. When I lost them I lost a part of me. And I had already lost my Ipomoea… she died while giving birth to our third child,” I scratched the skin behind my ear, nervous, feeling bad for bringing the matter up, feeling bad for making Balm talk about this, but he seemed far away in his memories and he wasn’t my father, he wouldn’t throw a fit, he wouldn’t get into hysterical sobs… Balm simply had his usual sad smile, and watery eyes, “It was a little girl. They both didn’t make it.” Balm rubbed his beard covered chin, breathing deeply, before going on, “When that happened, I would have liked to put the blame on someone, something. I couldn’t blame the child because she was dead, but I could blame me because I had wanted that child. But you see…” he looked at me in the eyes since I had raised mine to look at him, “I understood something. You have to let go. If you can’t let go, you’ll never find solace. So this is why I don’t blame this garden, because it’s not the garden that killed them; it’s the men that attacked it. But your father, our High-Lily doesn’t see it that way. And unlike him, I believe–I know–I will see them again…”

               “You believe their Essence is in the Flora?”

               “I know it. I have faith in the Flora. I always have, just like your mother. And I know they are waiting for me. My loving Ipomoea and my daughter. And my sons. My Ranunculus who was always too reasonable for his own good and Larkspur who was always the opposite. Those two were too full of life to ever disappear. It wouldn’t make sense. I know they are in the Flora because I can still feel them. All my family is just waiting for me to meet them again. They give me strength to go on until the time comes.”

               I wished I could feel that too, feel my mother with me…

               I took a deep breath, looking down, and asked in a small voice, “Do you think my mother is in the Flora too?”

               “Yes”

               I still kept my eyes down, “Does she see what father has become?”

               “That, I do not know. I only know what I believe in that particular matter and what I believe is not necessarily the truth so I will spare you my hypothesis. I am not a Heliotrope after all.” He chuckled shortly.

               “How did you get all this knowledge then?” I asked, trying to change subject. I already lived everyday with the thought of my dead mother.

               “My brother was a Heliotrope. I lived with him for a long time, many years before I had children, before I even knew my Ipomoea. He taught me everything he knew, but he was still young and so was I.” He smiled a little when he explained that, there was a glow in his eyes.

               It was hard to imagine a time where Bald would have been young. I had always seen him with grey in his hair, even when I was younger he was already old.

               “It must have been nice, when people all believed the same thing and we were all in harmony”

               “Come. I know you want to see the Myosotis before you leave and I can tell you all about the glory of the old days,” Balm laughed, hands stretched towards me.

               We both got up and then walked down to the small path that led to the big tree. The path itself was thin and hard to walk in but the old man making his way in front of me seemed to almost float on it. His feet knew exactly where to step and he was even quieter than I was. He would have been a great hunting partner, no doubt.

               “In my young years, the people of Clematis weren’t a threat; it was only the outside people that were, coming from the Land of Sand.”

               I bird flew low, coming out of the bushes and darted straight between us to the other side.

               The men from that Land were definitely still a threat… The responsible of my mother’s death…

               Balm kept speaking. “Everyone firmly believed in the Flora and in our Essence. So, if you didn’t study to become a Heliotrope or an Orchid, and wanted to really be accomplish in the society you became an Oak.”

               Oak were the soldiers or guards, the ones fighting to protect. Nowadays it was the noblest status after Orchid. If you were a Heliotrope you were an old fool.

               “You were an Oak” I stated, not even asking, I could just hear it from the way he had said the word, there was almost nostalgic longing.

               “Yes. In those days, the way it worked, we went to one of the Training Houses and there we were paired. Two by two. One drawing a sword and the other a bow. Always watching each other’s back. If you were send on a mission it was with your pair. You had to know that person perfectly for you life would often be in their hands, you needed to have a great level of understanding and trust.”

               “Almost like Ipomoea,” I countered, following closely.

               Balm turned his head to look at me and smiled. “Yes. As a matter of fact a lot of pairs did Ipomoea.”

               “Women could be Oaks?” I asked incredulous.

               “Don’t look so shock Low-Lily,” Balm chuckled and kept walking. “Your father was the one who issued the law against woman joining the ranks of the Oaks, but before they were fearless warriors just like the men. Don’t you remember how your mother used to encourage you to train in a fighting discipline?”

               Yes I did remember that. When my mother was still alive she used to bring me to the fighting range and tried to have me learn the basics of using a sword. I wasn’t really good at it, but I liked the time spent with my mother away not wearing the big puffy dresses inflicted on me every time I went out of the castle. For some reason, I felt free.

               Balm continued without my answer that must have been evident in my eyes. “So we all learned to fight to defend our Land against the men from the Land of Sand. As you know or have heard, where they come from they don’t have the amount of vegetation we have. And so they come to steal ours. And they are great fighters. Before we fought against them but we weren’t a considerate amount of Oaks. People preferred to become Heliotrope if they wanted a status. Young man became farmers, gardeners… That’s how the men from the Land of Sand were able to reach the castle, because we couldn’t stop them. After the attack your father stated that the partner technique was only putting both Oaks in more danger because they always had to watch for another person. So that’s when that practice died. And after that, every young man left the gardens, left the fields and became Oaks, self-centered Oaks, alone Oaks.”

               “You don’t approve,” I stated, bending my head to pass under a low branch.

               “I can’t do anything about it, that’s for sure,” the man in front of me snorted.

               We walked in silence for the rest of the time being. In a way, I felt more at ease not talking when we were so close to the majestic Tree. It was so high, so gigantic that it made speaking irrelevant and almost as if you needed to stay silent to respect It.

               When we finally reached the end of the trail and were standing in the little clearing surrounding the Myosotis, we both stopped walking and just looked in front of us.

               Even after seeing It closely many many times, I was still just as shock standing there in front of the Tree.

               How it could stay upright while so high was still a mystery to me.

               Gigantic, enormous, humongous weren’t enough to describe it. And the fact that it was so old, so old and yet still standing, so old and yet growing, made me respect it even more. It was full of life, all of it, filled with life. It wasn’t like our dead rock castle, no the Myosotis was flowing with life.

               Birds had their nest in its branches. Small animals had their homes in its holes. Insect fed on its leaves.  

               The sun shone through its leaves, rays piercing through it, giving an eerie edge to the scenery. The wind was blowing in its leaves its constant melody.  

               I couldn’t help it, like every other time I came here, my eyes filled with tears. And I felt so insignificant standing by It.

               “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Balm whispered beside me, smiling.

               I simply nodded.

               How could people not believe that this Tree was at the chore of our society? That it had powers we couldn’t even began to comprehend?

               “Some say the roots go all the way to Clematis,” the old man added, his voice barely louder than the wind.

               He had already told me this, many times. It saddened me. Balm was getting older and older… “I wouldn’t be surprise,” I whispered back, like I always did.

               “It’s a mystery to me as to how the roots still haven’t pierce through our castle foundation.”

               “Who knows? Maybe one day my father will wake up with roots filling his room,” I added, with a teasing smile.

               “That would be something worth seeing and possible considering your father doesn’t really care about anything related to this garden,” Balm chuckled.

               Yes, my father had abandoned this garden, was giving up on our roots. Why was he doing that? Was he the wise one? Were all those belief based on nothing? How could the be based on nothing when seeing the Myosotis? And if they were that, nothing, what was it even suppose to mean? What were we suppose to believe in?

               “I should go,” I finally reluctantly said, looking up at the sky. The sun was moving fast there and soon I needed to leave. Too soon. “Thank you for everything you have done for me and for this city. Thank you for not giving up on this garden like everyone else has…”

               Balm breathed a laugh and was on his feet too, “It is not the last time you will see me my Child, do not worry. The Flora is not in need of my Essence just yet. And you will come back here, if you want to Ipomoea that Clematis Low-Lily.”

               I swallowed the lumped in my throat. Yes it was true, I was to come back to Ipomoea here… but something in me made me feel like it was the last time I would see this man. I didn’t want to feel that way, or think that way but I did. Everything was so feeble these days; the old man was definitely no exception.

               The next words I said, were almost to convince myself more than him “I will come back as soon as I can”

               “I know. And the Temple will be waiting for you,” he smiled again. “The Mysotis will be waiting for you my Child.”

                “Thank you.” I bowed my head slightly. “Myosotis Balm.”

               “Myosotis Acacia, Low-Lily of Clematis.” Balm bowed too and then I turned and headed back to the castle, but not before turning to wave one last time at the old gardener.