Weaving of the Road to Rescue

“Daddy!”

Luka giggled as he jumped on the bed, awakening Madigan from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes, sunlight momentarily blocking his vision, before he saw him – his happy little boy, excited for another day of flying.

But something felt wrong. Why was he here?

“Get up! You said we can go to Section 2 today, remember!” his son said, tugging on his arm eagerly. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Ahem – what did I just hear about Section 2?”

Jaswyn appeared in the doorway, crossing her arms while tapping a talon on the floor. Madigan’s eyes trailed down her signature braided hair that hung past her waist, back up to the button nose he always found adorable – even though the disappointed look on her face expressed anything but.

She clicked her tongue and said, “Madi, how many times must I tell you? I don’t want Luka so far away from home.”

He chuckled, sitting up and ruffling Luka’s hair. “Aw, come on, Jas. Can’t the kid go on a little adventure?”

“The last ‘adventure’ you took him on resulted in him being covered in poison ivy.”

He squinted at Luka, “You dirty snitch. You told her about that?”

“I had to! She gave me the scary eyes!”

“Ah, I get it, so just throw your old man into the lion’s den, eh!”

“Oh, goodness… What am I going to do with you boys?”

Madigan smiled – genuinely. But after he did, he knew why despite being in his own home, surrounded by his own family, things were wrong. Just like that, the smile left him, replaced by the deep pit in his heart he’d become so-very familiar with.

“Daddy? Why are your eyes wet?”

Jaswyn, the soft fabric of her dress elegantly flowing with her gait, walked up to him and gingerly held his chin. Her beautiful face, as was always in his sight, possessed a trace of sadness along yearning – that alone could make him bleed.

Flames hissed, the edges of their clothes blackened. His haven’s four walls creaked sorrowfully as the stifling ruination overpowered its deception. Jaswyn, stroking her ring finger down his jaw, finally said,

“Wake up, Madi.”

And so he did – right into reality, Arenard’s inferno. Buildings collapsed to the grass below, only expanding the fire’s spread. His whole body aching, he sat up to find himself on a cluster of branches, jutting out from the trees in an unnatural array. Next to him was Isolde, looking relieved as she held the boy protectively in her arms.

“Pulled that same trick you did in the forest?” Madigan asked, snapping his bones back into place with a groan. “Amazed you actually caught us this time.”

“To be honest? Me too…”

Her eyes wandered, taking in the catastrophic scene around them. Madigan braced himself, prepared for her to scream and wallow in fear at any moment – but to his alleviation, Isolde was oddly calm. She seemed lost in thought, idly biting her lip as she studiously embraced her observations. The trance was only broken by the crying child, to which her attention was diverted.

“Shh, shh – it’s going to be fine,” she hugged him tighter. “We just need to figure a way out of here, then we’ll be right as rain.”

Madigan lifted a brow in disbelief. Was this the same person?

“B-But I’m scared!” he wept.

“That’s perfect! Because in order to brave, you have to be scared first, at least just a little bit,” she poked his nose, “That’s what my dad always told me. What would yours say?”

He sniffled then said, “To close my eyes, a-and count to ten…”

“Good! Then do just that, count to a hundred if you have to. And think about your dad, your mom too – how much they can’t wait to see you right now.”

She released him and stood, placing her hands on her hips as she looked from where they had fallen. “Madigan, you still can’t fly, right?”

“If I could, don’t you think I would’ve done so by now?”

“But not even a tiny bit? Enough to go from branch to branch?”

“Nope. That bastard got me good.”

“Okay, so – that won’t work…”

She went silent and stared out another time. Madigan couldn’t figure out exactly what she was looking so intently at. Fire, destruction, fleeting Fliers far-up above – more fire? Even down on the surface, where structures weren’t built, it was lit with danger. There was no way out, death was imminent.

“Alright, new plan!” she said, clasping her hands together – then she raised them, as a Weaver does when getting into action. But he saw her stance was stiff, cloddish. Whatever she was about to do, it was clear to him she held no confidence. Yet she tried to sound assured as she asked, “Will you point out the trees that aren’t yet on fire? I can only see threads now, so I can’t.”

“To your left— no, not that one! You tryin’ to get us killed?”

“Well, you have to be more specific!”

“Fine, the tree after that!”

She got it right. The tree split, starting to pull off from its core and lowering down to their feet. It must’ve been more difficult than manipulating thinner branches, since the whole thing was at a snail’s pace. Madigan was sure he could be better, and he wasn’t even a Weaver.

Isolde wiped off sweat once the broken tree finally became a makeshift bridge. “There,” she said. “We’ll use this to get across… Then repeat until we reach the top. Sounds like an idea?”

“Yeah, sure. But you’d have to hurry it up, or else we’d be dead before then.”

Looking at her hands, the emboldened demeanor seemed to slip from her grasp. He hadn’t realized it before, but they looked peculiar – somewhat disjointed, in a way you’d have to take a second glance to tell. Even so, Isolde took a big breath and nodded.

They carefully crossed over, the boy repeatedly counting to numbers as he followed. Dropping scorched planks forced them to move quicker, and once they stopped at the next, Isolde did the same to the closest tree – it was faster than before, but not enough.

“Seriously, brat? Is this really the best you can do? It’s like you’re expecting the fire to wait for you or something.”

“Believe it or not, I’m trying— the best I can…” she said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah? Well, you need to try harder!”

“That’s— oh, ow… That’s easier said than done. You don’t get it.”

“I don’t have to ‘get it,’ all I have to know is that this is pointless if you don’t put yourself together. So, come on!”

“I told you, I’m trying—!”

“I-It’s okay, miss,” the boy said, his eyes still closed. “You said everything would be fine... Maybe you can count to ten too.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and for a while, she didn’t say anything. But their next bridge was suddenly ready instantaneously, and as she hastened across it, she yelled to Madigan, “Next one! Where?”

“There we go, that’s what I’m talking about,” he thought.

“The right, about 90 degrees!”

Seconds before they were ambushed by fire, the line of overpasses was continued by Isolde. They had to run as soon as another was made, for their deadly environment no longer permitted delay. To Madigan’s shock, likely even to her own, Isolde was able to keep with the pace. Just as a proper Weaver should.

“Ha – color me surprised. You actually can weave. Have you been faking, or what?”

“Please let me concentrate!”

“Geez, alright.”

And that she did, tree after tree, higher and higher – though the farther they got, each splitting was performed with a cry of agony that intensified the longer it went on. It puzzled him, not knowing why it was causing so much distress. But for the sake of their lives, especially the boy’s – he couldn’t tell her to stop. They coughed from the smoke, and ironically, it was a positive thing, signaling their getting closer to the city. With one last wail, Isolde created a path of debris that floated midair, over which they passed.

“Madi!”

Jaswyn sobbed, running to his arms. Though his first instinct was to receive her, he pulled away. She caught the message, stopping abruptly in her tracks as she recollected herself.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, walking by her.

Meanwhile, Isolde was on her knees, panting heavily – and stretching from her hands to the middle of her forearms, was redness and swelling. Behind her was the result of her strength, a timbered, jagged road to safety. Maybe keeping this supposedly “weak” Weaver around wasn’t a bad decision, after all.

“Aye, brat,” Madigan said. “Nice work – you know, for once.”

“Was— the last part necessary..?”

“Yes, it was.”