Deadly Forest: A Green Witch Mystery, page 20
Rhianne looked at the narrow tunnel and back at the stretcher — no way would they be able to carry him. As her brain concocted ridiculous theories, including straps and contortionist moves, Kai once again managed to out-think her and impress her in equal measure.
Kai faced the tunnel, his brows knitted in concentration as he extended his hands outward. From his fingertips, tendrils of silver light spiralled forth, twisting and turning like smoke caught in a gentle breeze. The shimmering strands danced through the air, weaving around the objects he’d placed beneath the stretcher, casting fleeting shadows and reflections on the rough tunnel walls.
Rhianne had never seen Kai pull off anything like this with his magic. Usually, he was about using his cool gadgets, making things look techy rather than magical. The closest thing was when he’d enacted a barrier in the Elven realm to protect someone. When he turned back around to look at her, Rhianne tilted her head and arched an eyebrow.
Kai began to outline his plan, turning what sounded like science fiction into a plausible rescue operation. “I’m using what we have or I can create with bits and bobs around us,” he said, his voice echoing in the confines of the cave. “We’re going to float Asher out of here.”
Her eyes widened as the words settled in the air. Telekinesis was possible, but almost as rare as her healing ability. She hadn’t thought Kai could move things with his mind. But then again, this was Kai.
He pointed towards the series of small objects along the sides of the lightweight stretcher, where Asher lay still. “These powerful magnets,” he said, “are arranged so they repel from the metal rails we’ve laid down along our path. It’s about magnetic levitation — using the force of repulsion to lift and move the stretcher.”
Grandpa strapped on a harness connected to the front of the stretcher. “I’ll lead the way,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a determined smile. “The rails Kai set up need to align perfectly with the magnets’ poles to create a stable levitation. It won’t be a smooth ride, but it’ll do.”
Kai nodded, giving Grandpa a thumbs up. He turned back to Rhianne. “The trick is in the balance and motion. We can’t push; we have to guide it gently. The magnets on the stretcher and the rails are like opposite ends of a battery, pushing against each other to create a cushion of air. Well, not air, but you get the idea — a magnetic cushion.”
No, not really, but so long as it worked, that was fine.
As they started moving, Kai stayed close to the stretcher, his hands hovering near the edges. “I’ll navigate the stretcher, making sure it doesn’t tilt too much or veer off course.” He gave Rhianne a reassuring grin. “Not bad, huh? A bit of physics and a touch of ingenuity. Let’s get Asher home.”
With that, Grandpa signalled they were ready, and the crawling procession into the tunnels began, with Asher floating safely in the middle of their carefully orchestrated magnetic ballet.
Getting out took a lot longer than getting in. Every few feet, Grandpa and Kai would attempt to coordinate their movements, pausing to realign the stretcher or dodge cave walls as if they were avoiding furniture in a dark room. Each bang or thud had Rhianne’s heart doing acrobatics.
She crawled right behind Kai, with the grace of a three-legged tortoise — if she had any say in it, the next time she’d consider spelunking would be… well, never.
Nel and Isobel trailed behind, maintaining a silence so profound it was as if they had taken a solemn vow of quietude.
They finally wriggled free from the tunnel’s grasp and stumbled into the cave’s entrance. Rhianne let out a long exhale as she straightened up and stretched, touching the cave ceiling with her fingertips.
The stretcher came to a stop and lowered itself to the ground.
Kai rested for a second, swiping sweat off his forehead. He looked beat, breathing hard, his shoulders slumping, like he’d just finished a marathon or, more to the point, a magic marathon.
“We’ll have to carry him the rest of the way,” he said, catching his breath. “Manifesting the magnets out here, in the open, isn’t as simple.”
Grandpa rushed to grab one end of the stretcher, and Nel beat Kai to the other end before he even had a chance to move. Rhianne shot Nel a thankful look, and Nel offered her a nod.
It hit her then — their entire trek through the cave had unfolded in utter silence. Of course, Kai and Grandpa had focused on navigating the stretcher through the tricky paths, and she’d zeroed in on their every move. But Nel and Isobel hadn’t uttered a peep.
As Nel hoisted the stretcher, his expression was all business. The usual mischievous twinkle in his eye was replaced with a focused stare — his smirk and signature eyebrow dance on break. He was toned down, subdued — a stark contrast to the Nel Rhianne knew. This unusual shift in his demeanour made her pause and stare.
Rhianne glanced at Isobel, but her face was giving nothing away, eyes glued to the stretcher. Isobel hung back as Nel and Grandpa picked up the pace. Rhianne filed that away in her ‘weird stuff to think about later’ folder, right next to the surprise genie lamp episode. Right now, all she could worry about was Asher. She couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t getting any better, but maybe getting him out in the fresh air, surrounded by trees, would do the trick.
Toto, meanwhile, was off like a shot, leading the way and sniffing around. Rhianne guessed he was trying to pick up the trail of whoever had taken Asher.
Even with the stretcher to lug, Grandpa and Nel made quick work of the trip and got back to Grandpa’s place faster than Rhianne thought possible. They moved Asher into the guest room. His breathing was steady, and he looked a bit less like a ghost. The journey’s jolts and pauses didn’t appear to have worsened Asher’s condition, but neither was he better.
“I reckon he needs time with his tree,” Grandpa said as he and Kai filled the doorway, both peering in at Asher.
Rhianne mulled over Grandpa’s words, her brow furrowing as she weighed them against her own knowledge of healing. “Tree therapy,” she mused to herself with a hint of scepticism. Yet she knew well the power of the environment in recovery, the way nature could soothe and restore. Could the familiar comfort of his tree genuinely spur his recovery, or was it too risky to leave him exposed to the elements in his vulnerable state? Her mind raced with medical facts and herbal remedies, trying to find a balance between her training and Grandpa’s dryad knowledge. “Is his tree far?”
“Nah, it’s a stone’s throw from Elvira’s cabin.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Isobel’s fingers were wrapped around Asher’s wrist, eyes on her watch as she spoke.
Rhianne was on the fence, so she decided to give her magic another whirl, like a chef trying a recipe one more time but expecting a different cake. She reached out to Asher with her magic. Little streams of light twisted around his chest and head. But when nothing happened after a minute, her heart sank.
“All right,” Rhianne said, trying to sound more hopeful than she felt. “Let’s try it, because nothing else is working.”
Grandpa marched into the room and hoisted Asher up like he was a light loaf of bread. Rhianne’s mouth opened, ready to launch into a “Wait a minute!” but she caught herself. Asher’s mode of transport wasn’t going to make or break his recovery. It wasn’t like he needed a physical therapist; he needed a magical one. And Grandpa zipping along with Asher in his arms in the forest was probably faster than anything else they could conjure up.
Toto was sitting outside the cabin and straightened up when they came out. “There were numerous scents intertwined — it appears this area also attracts other explorers. I was unable to discern our culprit.”
“There’s a good chance the person who took him knew their way around here pretty well. They might’ve picked a less obvious route to stay off the radar,” Kai said.
“I shall conduct another survey from above. Should the perpetrator have been pressed for time, it is conceivable he left behind discernible traces of his passage,” Toto said.
Toto got up and, with a quick shake, turned into his eagle form. Rhianne tilted her head — Toto was switching shapes like outfits and still didn’t look any worse for wear. That was some serious magic power. She scanned the porch; Nel was MIA, probably still indoors, but Isobel tagged along.
They made their way along the path, weaving through bushes and under eucalyptus trees that scattered moonlight and shadow patterns on the ground. Rhianne had the feeling the trees were cheering them on, in a quiet, leafy sort of way. Yet when Grandpa stopped by a mid-sized blackbutt tree, the mood changed. It didn’t feel like they were getting a welcome from the tree.
Grandpa scowled, Asher still cradled in his arms, pausing a beat. “The tree’s giving us the cold shoulder; it’s not reacting to Asher being here.”
His tone was grouchy, his lips pressed together in a tight line.
“Are we sure this is the right tree?” Rhianne asked.
“No doubt about it. Everyone knows this is his tree,” Grandpa grumbled.
“But if — Hang on! Did you just say everyone knew?” Rhianne blurted out, her thoughts racing ahead of her words. Something didn’t add up.
Distracted from his tree stare-down, Grandpa turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “What’s ticking over in that head of yours, possum?”
Rhianne shook her head, no time to explain, and looked over at Kai. “You still have Asher’s phone?”
So dumb! Why hadn’t she asked for Tabitha’s phone number when they met her?
Without any fuss, Kai dug into one of his many pockets and pulled out the phone.
“Can you ring Tabitha, please?” Rhianne asked, and Kai passed over the phone without a word.
The moment Rhianne had the phone to her ear, an anxious voice came through. “Asher? Is everything all right?”
“It’s Rhianne, not Asher. He’s safe but not in great shape, and I need your help, Tabitha.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “What can I do?” Tabitha asked, rallying like the trouper she was.
“You mentioned Asher had a secret tree?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you to tell me everything about that tree.”
There was the sound of shuffling, then drawers opening. “He made a sketch of it for me,” Tabitha said.
“Could you snap a pic and send it to me?”
“Is Asher really okay?” Tabitha’s voice sounded distant, likely moving to take the photo.
“He’s hanging in there.” Rhianne crossed her fingers for luck. “But finding his tree could really help.”
“Sent,” came Tabitha’s prompt reply.
“Thank you. I’ll update you the moment I know more,” Rhianne said.
“You better,” Tabitha responded, a quiver in her voice.
Rhianne quickly hung up and tapped open the photo. What she saw was a botanical version of a punk rock hairstyle—spiky, cone-shaped flowers with leaves so sharp they seemed to say, “Come at me, bro.” Asher had sketched them with such detail that Rhianne half-expected to get a paper cut just from swiping the screen. Asher might have missed his calling as a botanical illustrator because she could almost swear the Banksia was about to leap out of the phone.
Her heart sank. Banksias were common around here.
She thrust the phone at Grandpa. “Recognise this tree?” Her voice was high-pitched. What were the chances he would?
Grandpa leaned over the phone, his face scrunching up as he took a good look. After a beat, he straightened up and said with the confidence of a man who’s spent more time with trees than people, “That’s a Banksia Vincentia.”
“I get it’s a Banksia,” Rhianne said, frustration bubbling as she tugged on her ponytail. “I meant this exact tree.” She pointed at the drawing on the phone.
Grandpa’s smile spread wide across his face. “Not just any Banksia, possum. A Vincentia. As rare as hens’ teeth!”
Rhianne widened her eyes as a flutter stirred deep in her gut. “You mean you know where it is?”
“Spot on!” Grandpa said, pivoting on his heel and heading back the way they came.
Rhianne had to jog to keep pace with Grandpa’s long strides.
The group took a sharp turn off the beaten track into denser bushland, not a word between them. Throughout the journey, Isobel intermittently checked on Asher, her brow furrowed in concern.
As they pressed deeper, the national park at night morphed into something straight out of a fairy tale, minus the fairies but with a solid cast of critters.
Moonbeams sneaked through the dense foliage, throwing a spotlight on the underbrush and casting shadows that seemed to boogie to the night’s natural soundtrack. The air buzzed with the tunes of nocturnal life. Green tree frogs held a croaking contest up in the trees, laying down a beat that could rival any hip-hop track. Every now and then, a possum would belt out a screech, throwing in its own wild solo, like a rock star crashing the party.
Rhianne mentally thanked her jacket for being her knight in cotton armour against the bush’s scratchy advances. Only a few minutes in, and a cold sweat had broken out across her forehead, her palms clammy with apprehension. What if they were on a wild Banksia chase, thanks to Asher’s sketch? What if this Banksia Vincentia was as mythical as Grandpa’s tales of his youth?
Rhianne dove into the mental archives for anything on Banksias, with a spotlight on the elusive Vincentia species. Nothing. Her nursery didn’t have them, and she’d never seen one in the national park near her place.
Given their recent luck, Rhianne half-expected there would be several Vincentias in these parts. She found herself wishing Tabitha had sent them on this botanical treasure hunt with a bit more than hope and a sketch — maybe a GPS tracker for rare plants.
So lost in her thoughts, Rhianne nearly performed an impromptu dance move to avoid crashing into Grandpa, who had stopped dead in his tracks. Isobel, preoccupied with checking on Asher, jerked her head up, her eyes wide with surprise at the abrupt stop.
Before them stood a Banksia tree, striking in its presence, as if it knew it was the star of their wild plant chase. The Banksia Vincentia, under the glow of their flashlights, revealed its fiery orange flowers, which soaked up and tossed back the moonlight like a seasoned performer, casting a glow that made the dark foliage around it look underdressed for the occasion.
Rhianne clicked on the drawing Tabitha had sent. Asher’s talent for art was undeniable — the tree in front of them was replicated with such precision in the sketch, it was as if they had stumbled upon its personal photoshoot.
That was when the Banksia tree started its performance, crooning a welcoming yet slightly off-key tune. Images of Asher alongside the tree popped into Rhianne’s mind, outlined with what looked like friendship bracelets — was this their bond? It filled her with a sense of wonder. They had done it! This was Asher’s tree.
Yet her stomach twisted into a knot that refused to unravel, and her shoulders tensed up as Grandpa carefully, almost excruciatingly slowly, deposited Asher down. He propped Asher against the tree with the care of someone handling an ancient, priceless vase, while Rhianne’s hands clenched and unclenched in a silent plea for speed.
Finally, Grandpa stepped back, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, nothing happened.
Then, as if the tree had decided to give Asher a hug, some of the branches lazily stretched out to envelop him. The ground joined the party with a gentle shimmy, prompting Rhianne to plant her feet to avoid falling over.
As Asher’s body began to blur, Rhianne gasped. But defying her expectations and hopes, instead of reappearing, he turned transparent and vanished.
CHAPTER 24
Was Asher’s merger with the tree a sign of success? Was he okay? Rhianne’s eyes darted to Grandpa’s face for clues. But his face remained a stoic mask. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. The slight unclenching of his jaw was the only sign that he, too, felt a thread of hope.
“Is Asher going to…?”
Grandpa’s expression brightened, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Crikey!” The word burst from Grandpa like a shot, his eyebrows arching towards his hairline. “The young bloke’s been sneaky, eh? Must’ve been chatting up this tree for a good couple of years behind our backs.”
“So?” Rhianne’s hand fluttered in the direction of the now quiet tree.
Grandpa’s gaze drifted upwards, fixating on the distant canopy as if searching the treetops for his next words. With a nod as if affirming something only he understood, he leaned in, eyes twinkling, and declared, “I’ve never seen a nipper get on with trees quite like that, but that hug? That’s the real deal. They’ve gone and made a pact, they have. It needs a bit of patience from us now.”
“Are you sure he’s coming back?” Rhianne’s voice trailed off as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“The lad’s made of tough stuff, and he’s got a sharp mind. If anyone’s going to pull through, I reckon it’ll be him.”
“So what now?” Kai’s question sliced through the tension, making Rhianne jump.
“Grandpa Angelo is right. We let his tree do its thing,” Isobel said.
Toto swooped, landing on a branch above them, and pealed his agreement.
“What! Leave him here alone? Someone nearly killed him!” Rhianne’s voice skyrocketed in pitch and volume, echoing off the trees like an indignant parrot.
Grandpa had conjured up a thick wooden stick from the depths of an invisible pocket — like a rabbit pulled from a hat, except far less fluffy and more prone to giving splinters.
The stick itself was carved, not with intricate designs, but with what appeared to be a series of practical grip enhancements and possibly unintentional doodles, their meanings as elusive as Grandpa’s sense of time. The stick must have been through more than its fair share of walks, its surface polished by time and use, and Grandpa wielded it with the casual authority of a wizard with his wand.
