The Oak Hotel - Watty Awards 2013 Finalist

Chapter Eight - Valley of the Oaks

Chapter Eight

Valley of the Oaks

As if drawn into a movie while sitting in a darkenedtheater, Lincoln and Kayleigh watched as the beadsmanipulated light to create the image of a beautiful blue-green planet floating in the darkness of space. It resembled Earth, though the shape and arrangement of its many continents were different.

Emil’s voice was sonorous as he spoke:

“Our ancestors chose this planet for its lack of civilization. We knew of this city and learned that it had been empty for over two thousand years. It would be, we imagined, the ideal place to continue our inward search for peace. The world we left behind was a brutal one. Its leaders were selfish and power hungry. They feared us and meant to destroy us. We were healers, our minds open to the mysteries of the universe. Our escape was a tenuous one. Of the tens of thousands that tried to leave our world, mere hundreds made it.”

Here, the image of a black, horseshoe shaped craft raced across the edge of space; it sparked briefly, scratching the upper reaches of the planet’s atmosphere.

“We took extreme care choosing our safe refuge, hiding ourselves well. There was, however, one great surprise awaiting us. We did not want to impose ourselves on a planet that already held intelligent life. From all of our scans, we knew that Te’hæra Thorn conformed to this. Our lifestyles would be simple. What we took from the land in the form of food, we would gratefully give back.”

The planet faded, replaced by the image of a great tree.

“And then we discovered the de’Malange. In appearance, they looked like simple oak trees. Inside, they were miraculous. More intelligent than any other life form we knew of, they became our mentors. They taught us many things, helping us along a renewed course of spiritual awareness. About five hundred years after our arrival, they grew comfortable enough to teach us the Pandiments, poems which held great power over the physical world. There were ten original Pandiments, though in time we began to collaborate and helped to create new ones. It was a glorious time of learning and rebirth.”

“We met an oak like this,” Kayleigh said softly. “Kafír Rosette. She said she was one of the singing oaks.”

The image of the oak tree before them morphed into a great forest of trees. A sea of leaves swelled and sighed in an unfelt wind.

“Kafír Rosette may well be the last of the de’Malange,” Emil said. “And, yes, she was a singing oak. Her family once filled the center of the great valley below Kana Hove. I’m sure you noticed the empty field on your walk here.”

Behind the trees in the image, an artificial sky began to brighten with dawn.

“Long ago, when the suns filled the sky and the morning breezes blew, the oaks would catch the light in their leaves and branches and create the most beautiful music. The Symphony of Dawn woke us each morning. At twilight, a cooler wind would work its way through the Valley of the Oaks and they sang the mournful Symphony of Dusk. It was a time of deep introspection.”

The image moved in to show a close up of one of the trees. The bark appeared strong, willing to withstand any imaginable natural threat.

“In the decades that followed, we felt a great swelling of united brotherhood. Something had changed, allowing our kind to work more closely and with less strife. After a time, the trees spoke to us and explained what they had done.”

The spheres changed color quickly to show a cross-section of a tree trunk. The thick, central core contained a deep, green moving mass—its lifeblood, Lincoln guessed, as did Kayleigh. The rings around it were nearly white, but toward the end showed darkening orbits. The final few rings at the end were almost entirely black.