Our enchanted story continues as the prophetic, earth-shattering events die down in Ontawa (the “forbidden caves”). In this fourth chapter of "Evergreen: A Space-Time Odyssey," we are introduced to several important characters from among the non-human animates across the land and witness how the Golem's young gift named Gaia ("Guy-ah"), under full escort, experiences and acts on the incivility of her first wave of attackers.

 
High above the forbidden caves, Evergreen’s two suns cut through the crisp morning air and blanket the land in warmth. This day would be no different from any other were it not for the events and their aftermath that unfolded throughout the morning in Ontawa. Tremors are still active within the cold, dark walls. Water continues to bubble in areas not yet cooled and calm. Dirt and debris find ways to settle from the fury that concluded moments ago.

Another unordinary sign of the day is the sudden appearance from the mouth of Ontawa on its western side of six butterflies of extraordinary size and color. Flying in unison, just above the rolling hillsides and forest canopies, they gracefully shift to a northerly direction. Four of these majestic creatures are carrying a special passenger, also of immense proportions compared to Evergreen’s diverse insect populations above and below ground. The two remaining butterflies are a great deal larger than the others. They have dark markings on double wingspans that clearly provide a more threatening appearance. To protect the four winged bearers and their precious cargo from the unknown, they are flying in formation. One is ahead of the chrysalis and her escorts, and the other follows in the rear just above the group.

They have embarked on a momentous journey, prophesized by the Golem, to bring three worlds together into one and restore needed balance across the land. Success will avert the droves of horrible deaths of vulnerable, defenseless humans by the humites – an ancient species of flesh-eaters soon to be revived in the wake of Kaleija. Failure in the journey ahead will deliver from extinction these large, hideous beasts. Should this occur, no one will be safe when their highly intelligent queen begins to bud in large numbers and humites flourish once again.

Gaia and her special group of escorts are headed to the Great Falls where the largest and tallest group of waterfalls in all of Evergreen can be found. Their destination is a rare, sunless world of plant life and insect colonies concealed beneath Lake Augur in a region of the Grand Divide that has never been touched by humans. By the setting of the day’s second sun, they will pierce the crushing torrent of the Great Falls and enter this hidden world to a celebration unlike any other.

An hour into the journey, the six colorful travelers and their sleeping companion approach a forest of evergreens twice as tall as any they’ve seen along the way. They begin their ascent to clear the tops of the trees and continue on to a higher elevation. Off in the distance, about two hundred miles east of their present location above the Grand Divide, are the tiny silhouettes of hundreds of tall factories and buildings. Only banks of ash rising from the tallest smokestacks of industries are visible in a darkened sky. The city of Jaden is alive and bustling atop the ancient remains of Mesequoya.

In response to some faint noise ahead, Gaia begins to move slightly in her cocoon. Seconds later she awakens to a wide range of sights and sounds. From within, an innate feeling of uneasiness surfaces. In front of the group, loud cackles and caws are heard from a massive flock of silver-beaked blackbirds flying in a northeasterly direction. With a wingspan of only three feet, the birds are not nearly as big as her four escorts. However, their numbers can pose a serious threat. Also of concern is their diet. One of the most sought-after delicacies of silverbeaks is the meaty head and abdomen of a butterfly. And it’s a foregone conclusion that none in the flock have ever seen butterflies this big.

Both sets of Gaia’s eyes open wide. In a puzzled voice, she says, “For some reason, I ... I know what those noisy things are saying.” With growing curiosity, her attention continues to center on the mass of blackbirds as they maintain their heading. She watches as the flock breaks into two uneven groups. The smaller of the two maintains its northeasterly direction. The second group of silver-beaks circles slowly and heads in Gaia’s direction.

Several strangely familiar, high-pitched sounds are exchanged between her group’s leader and the rear escort. “Battleguard position?” “Must defend Gaia?” questions the jittery chrysalis aloud, easily interpreting the sounds communicated between her escorts.

“Be patient, young one,” says a soft, timid voice in front of her on the left, “and try to remain still.” The four butterflies acknowledge the exchange with their leader by emitting their own series of high-pitched sounds. They adjust and tighten their grip on Gaia’s pliable cocoon. “The battleguard will protect us,” adds another voice from behind. Each casts an uneasy glance at their special traveler. The lead battleguard quickens his pace and moves away from the chrysalis and her escorts. His combat ally in the rear moves into place at the helm, in front of the group.

Harsh, raucous calls of “Caw! Caw!” cry out from well below the group and startle Gaia. “Food? FOOD!” she shouts to the others. “They want to eat us!” Within the cocoon, Gaia shifts her body enough to look down to the noises from within the forest, but they are hidden by its dark shadows and thick canopy. “Where’d they go?” she wonders, puzzled and alarmed. At once, the rough, cackly calls intensify, and within seconds Gaia and her four escorts are at the center of an aerial assault from the front and rear by the first wave of silver-beaks.

A fierce battle begins between her protectors and the first group of silver-beaks that come into their range. Gaia watches closely as nature’s logic for the battleguard’s second set of wings becomes clear. Unlike their larger wings used for flight, the upper set is thicker with a harder surface that serves as a reinforced shield. From her ever-shifting position, she sees the top set of wings rise slightly on an angle and expand to twice their width. As they ready for combat, both battleguard lower their heads and begin a rapid descent toward the closest flock. Gaia and her four escorts are left untended.

Their pace quickens. Traveling downward at a tremendous speed, the battleguard perform several forward rolls just as they reach the thicket of blackbirds. With each completed roll, hundreds of warring silver-beaks violently collide into the reinforced sets of wings and are swatted down like flies through the forest canopy. Naturally able to maintain their balance, the combative guards emit a burst of speed to climb high, and then they repeat the action several more times. But these valiant efforts are not enough. The number of enemies is too great. In her cocoon, Gaia watches helplessly. To her horror, as her fearless defenders begin their next climb, they are mauled and devoured in midair by swarms of angry silver-beaks, numbered in the thousands, who have returned with help from the forest below. Among the last detectable words heard from the defeated warriors are “Be swift!” “Save Gaia!” and “Ahh!”

With the threat of the battleguard now behind them, the sight of a giant, vulnerable pupa and four succulent butterflies nearly as large is more than the winged carnivores can bear. Hundreds land on Gaia’s cocoon to claw and peck feverishly at tender furrows, hoping to shred its lining and eat its meaty contents. Dozens more sink their sharp claws into the legs and abdomen of her four terrified companions. Within seconds a huge black mass of silver-beaks, shaped like an eclipsed third sun high in the sky, is all that can be seen from a distance. The barbaric feast is in its full glory.

Trembling with fear and intense pain, Gaia’s heart pounds uncontrollably. “Senseless pain! Senseless slaughter!” she screams over and over as only glimmers of sunlight make their way through the chaotic blackness that surrounds her. Deep within the young chrysalis, an outrage is felt so heavily that she shakes loose hundreds of the foul- smelling predators who have already penetrated her cocoon and torn into her abdomen. Because they are eager to continue their part in the killing rampage, they quickly return with even greater fervor. Over the thunderous clamor of many thousands of silver-beaks fighting for position, Gaia hears the desperate cries and pleas of her loyal escorts. “Stop, not there!” “Ahh!” “No, my legs!”

Staring out beyond the pain and madness of the feeding frenzy, a deafening numbness suddenly overtakes the young chrysalis. The pain is gone. The fear is gone. With a slow, drawn-out blink of both sets of her eyes, she sees silent images of the dense forest and vicious marauders turn blood red. A warmth sweeps across the cocoon, quickly growing into a steady, glistening heat. In this grave, frightening moment, the chrysalis known through prophecy as Gaia takes a deep breath and emits a powerful and unearthly “SHRIEK!”

Bent air radiates from her cocoon with the force of a hurricane, sparing her trounced escorts even the slightest breeze. At once, the darkened mass of silver-beaks bursts outward, away from the exposed flesh of the victims, and is carried off within the radiant bands of the fierce blast. The energy carrying the blackbirds sweeps across the sky above and below the group, like a circular ripple effect. A horrific burning sensation overpowers the winged carnivores trapped within the bands, now accelerating at tremendous speeds. Though they are conscious, they cannot move a muscle as their inflamed bodies stiffen. Moments later, the once powerful thrust of the radiant bands loses energy. The horror in the blackbirds’ eyes reveals their final thoughts. By the thousands, they drop from the sky like rain through the canopy to the forest floor. A dense sequence of thuds finally gives way to a deathly silence.  All that is now heard beyond the light breeze out of the western sky is the fluttering of four sets of tattered wings. There are no silver-beaked blackbirds anywhere in sight.

Patches of clouds partially block the bright midday suns that reach out to warm the mountaintops ahead. Moving out of the shadows and into the suns’ rays, four haggard and grateful butterflies continue on their journey. Their goal is to deliver a special gift to the inhabitants of an unusual world, untouched by humans, well hidden beneath Lake Augur. 

Trailing behind the weary travelers, along the tree line of the forest canopy, is a flock of twelve dark green and gray ospreys who witnessed the battle and its unusual climax. Taggart, the flock’s leader, motions with his right wing to divide into two groups. Pointing to one group and then directly ahead, he instructs them to follow the chrysalis to its destination and report back. Taggart veers away from the flock and summons the second group to return with him to their home in the forest. His objective is to reach Syrus, their leader. Syrus is an ancient pterodactyl-like creature who rules all winged carnivores throughout the forests of Evergreen. Because Taggart is second in command of Syrus’ formidable army, he is compelled to personally deliver the news of this new threat to the throne.

Within minutes Taggart spots Syrus’ lair in one of the tallest evergreens in the forest. Centuries earlier Syrus carved his lair inside an immense knot near the top of the great redwood. Taggart and his flock land on a branch just above Syrus’ entrance. Even the light breezes cannot hide the stench of rotted animals. The lead osprey walks toward the entrance and leans over to peek in. In the darkness within the opening, Taggart sees hundreds of discarded bones in piles off to the side of an oversized nest. Some of the bones contain pieces of their former occupants. Most are stripped clean.

In a firm but uneven voice, Taggart calls out, “Syrus, I need a word with you.” He is always uneasy at their initial encounters.

From the shadows within the lair emerges Syrus’ long, leathery beak. From its age and texture, it’s hard to tell whether the beak is dark brown or faded black. Startled by its appearance and size, Taggart takes a few steps back. A few members of his flock, also unnerved by the sight, fly to higher branches. The beak is scarred throughout with an assortment of punctures and long gashes. Both upper and lower sections are lined with multiple rows of sharp, bloodstained teeth. Their sheer volume and jagged slopes make them more appropriate for a great white shark than a winged creature. Following several feet of beak, a small, flattened head appears with a single, maroon-colored eye. On its surface is a glint of sunshine that found its way through the forest canopy. The hollow socket for the other eye is filled with a tapestry of webs, forest debris and a family of wolf spiders. The eyeball itself has long since decayed from a centuries-old battle for the forest throne. The petrified remains of a winged reptile with a long neck and lower jaw torn off are proudly displayed on the wall behind Syrus’ nest.

“You’ve woken me from a sound sleep,” says Syrus angrily, “and I haven’t slept well for weeks.”

“Sorry about that,” replies Taggart. “Peckerwoods move into the neighborhood?”

“Hardly. That would be easily remedied,” he states smugly. “I think the local ground-dwellers caught something they can’t quite shake off. They’re puffy, they smell, and I can just about tap them on the shoulder before I swallow them whole. I’ve had stomach problems and gas that could wipe out a legion.” Members of Taggart’s flock leap to the next highest branch. Syrus stretches his claw-tipped wings. They nearly touch each wall within his lair. He yawns and says, “It’s so bad it even makes my eye water. But enough about me. Let’s talk about your problem,” he adds. “If you plan to be around to watch the suns set, you better have a good reason for disturbing me.”

“I do. We have a new enemy in our midst,” says Taggart pointblank. “I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it.” The birds around him nod their heads in support.

"Seen what?” asks Syrus in a tone that indicates he’s heard this before.

“A creature that has the power to defeat an entire army on its own,” he responds, lifting and shaking his wings. Members of his flock again nod their heads. This time it is to verify that they, too, have witnessed the event.

Syrus mulls over Taggart’s incredible claim. His eye flickers back and forth, warily considering the implications. Finally, he leers at his most trusted henchman. “And by what means have you come to this conclusion?” asks Syrus skeptically.

“Three legions of our silver-tips engaged the creature north of here a short time ago,” he states. “They routed its two main defenders, but the silver-tips had little success when they attacked the leader.”

“Go on,” urges Syrus calmly. “But first tell me about this creature. What did he look like?”

“I couldn’t tell because he was in a cocoon,” says Taggart. “Plus, he was surrounded by four of the largest butterflies I’ve ever seen. They were carrying him to some location. I suspect that if he turns out to be one of them, he’ll be even larger than they are. The cocoon was massive.”

Syrus stares out over the tips of neighboring evergreens. He is pensive and makes no eye contact with Taggart or the others. “He was in a cocoon? Tell me about the battle,” he states. “What happened?”

“When the silver-tips finally reached the creature and his escorts, they did what they do best. Well, at least at first,” remarks Taggart. “They tore into the cocoon to get at the pupa and kill it. At the same time, others began to rip and shred the body and legs of his four protectors. It was impressive, actually, to watch the enemy covered in legions of silver-tips while thousands more were diving in for a piece of the action. I saw a black circle in the sky that kept growing.”

“Then what?” asks Syrus.

“Well, it looked like they were making a meal out of them, like they did to the first two defenders. Then things changed. The creature mounted a sudden, devastating counter-offensive. In seconds, it was over.”

Syrus smiles and turns to Taggart. “So you claim there is a new enemy among us who has the power to defeat my entire army because a few weak soldiers failed at their duty.”

“Well, yes, that’s the way I see it. But no –”

“– And from your description, this threat to my throne is a big, nasty caterpillar pupa?” Syrus adds, clearly entertained by the idea. He bursts into deep, raspy laughter before Taggart has a chance to respond.

Taggart leans toward Syrus in an unusually aggressive posture. “This is no ordinary creature,” he states firmly. “With one ear-shattering screech, our soldiers dropped from the sky like black rain. Now they lay waste on the forest floor in front of their families.”

Syrus would normally swallow whole anyone who shows such disrespect to his authority. In this circumstance, however, he sees that his second-in-command is quite serious about the day’s events. Syrus takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “How many died?” he asks.

“Uh, all of them,” responds Taggart somberly.

“All of them!” shouts Syrus.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” says Taggart. “The battle was a complete loss.”

Syrus pauses for a moment to regain his composure. Under his breath, he comments, “Three legions of my silver-tips are dead because of this intruder. This should not be. It cannot be any longer.” Infuriated at the outcome, his eyebrows lower near the center. He stares ahead at the peaks of the Grand Divide to the north, well beyond the forest. Syrus closes his eye, tilts his head back and emits a long, horrid screech. For several seconds, echoes resonate from one forest canopy to another. His eye remains closed as he listens to the reverberating sounds and thinks about his next steps.

From all directions, hundreds of his followers who have learned of the terrible battle begin to gather on the long branches that surround his lair. A majority represent legions of loyal warriors that nest throughout the forest. A smaller number, like the peach-tufted cockatoo and red-crested wood warbler, are not fighters. They arrive out of curiosity. Most are there to show their support for the feared, ancient ruler.

Shortly after the noise settles, a gentle, moon-faced owl lands on a branch next to Taggart. His feathers vary in shades of brown, except for those that comprise his round, pure-white face. Like Syrus, he is tremendous in size and weathered due to his extraordinary longevity. His name is Wiley. He is the last of a well-respected breed of forest creatures known as luna owls. Using their keen insight and rare ability to foresee events, these creatures once worked in groups to arbitrate peace between the differing forest factions. As their numbers and influence have dwindled over the centuries, they have largely been ignored by whoever commands the forest throne.

Syrus opens his eye and sees Wiley perched on the branch. “I thought the winds and sand would have decayed your carcass long ago, you old coot,” states Syrus, still outraged at Taggart’s news. A large number of birds on nearby branches snigger uneasily at their leader’s comment. They are delighted that the tension has decreased, at least for the moment.

Wiley does not respond to the goading remarks. The venerable owl just stares down at Syrus, tilts his head and blinks.

“Have you lost your ability to speak?” questions Syrus. Again, there is no response. “Your silence makes me suspicious. Did you have something to do with today’s dreadful battle?” he asks distrustfully. Syrus glares at the gentle creature. “Everyone knows your kind is the only winged flesh-eater who refuses to be under any rule. And you reject my authority. I should kill you now,” he quickly adds.

The large, white-faced luna owl blinks again and decides to speak. “There’s more to today’s events than you will ever know, Syrus,” he states in a mild, timeworn voice. “You should not interfere any further with the chrysalis or her journey.”

"This thing is female?” responds Syrus, aghast at the revelation. “Then it can breed others like it and expand its base of power.”

“The chrysalis is named Gaia, and she’s no threat to you. Unless, of course, you turn her into one. Who! Hooo!” he chortles, amused at his unexpected wit. “She’s on a path that is much different than yours,” says Wiley. “It is not Gaia’s wish to occupy any of your territory, only to travel over it to reach her destination. She did not plan to harm anyone.”

“Harm?” replies Syrus. “They’re all dead!”

“Members of my flock are tracking her as we speak,” states Taggart. “Soon they will return with news of the location.”

“Good work,” replies Syrus, ignoring Wiley for the moment. “Handle this personally, Taggart. Return to Gaia’s location. Find out all that you can about her plans and bring the information to me.”

“I recommend that you do not follow Gaia and her companions,” interjects Wiley firmly. “If you do, it will be at great peril to all who oppose her. You and your minions are meddling in areas that need not concern you. If you do nothing, your reign will be preserved. However, if you act, there can only be one consequence. You will lose in a manner that befits the history of your tyranny.”

“A league of your kind has been offering advice for thousands of years. ‘Don’t do this.’ ‘Stay away from that.’ ‘Do not interfere.’ Rulers of the forest throne may have complied with the league in the past, but you’re the last of your kind, you old coot. The so-called league of peacekeepers no longer exists. I will not follow the words of a toothless and senile remnant of a bygone era.”

A strong breeze picks up in the forest and whistles through the trees. Winds from different directions stir the many white feathers around Wiley’s eyes. Syrus briefly notices a second set of eyes just behind and below the main pair. They appear worn and atrophied, as if no longer in use.

"Looks like time has taken a toll not only on your insight but on your range of vision as well,” gibes Syrus. This time, none of his followers finds humor in Syrus’ words. They just stare at the luna owl, some with their heads tilted, like he’s a living history lesson.

“Ah,” retorts Wiley, “such wisdom from a near-sighted Cyclops with a bad under-bite. You should stick to hunting fish in shallow ponds and avoid waging war beneath larger waters. It will cost countless innocent lives and be your undoing.”

The number of birds gathered on the branches around Syrus and Wiley has grown tenfold in the last few minutes. More arrive each second. Syrus knows that a show of strength is expected.

“You speak as a rebel and a traitor, mindless one,” he states, emerging from his lair. Syrus swoops down several hundred feet with his leathery, claw-tipped wings outstretched and ascends just as he nears the tips of the forest canopy. All eyes are on their leader. With just a few forceful flaps of his wings, he climbs several hundred feet above his lair and circles around. Syrus heads straight for Wiley and closes in fast. Hundreds of birds sense the confrontation and quickly scatter. The large luna owl remains in place.

"Uhm, I suggest you move,” says Taggart, fully aware of Syrus’ intent. But Wiley doesn’t budge. Taggart takes a few steps to his left, in the event that things get messy.

Descending toward Wiley at full speed, Syrus pulls up at the last moment and knocks his opponent off the branch with his sturdy chest. The large owl is thrown from the immense tree and tumbles toward the tree line below. Syrus looks to the sky and raises and shakes his wings in a violent display of force. Together, those in attendance stretch their necks to look downward at Wiley. Moments later the gentle luna owl quietly disappears beneath the forest canopy. All eyes return to their leader.

In a cold and measured tone, Syrus shouts the orders, “Assemble your troops and prepare for war! We cannot allow this freak of nature to breed or to live. Our crusade begins now.”