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into the core of the mountain. The whole birth takes fifteen minutes. Most girls would probably be envious of that. Mercadia would probably say, “You shouldn’t be.”
Mercadia would fall over but the soil holds her fast and she just leans back, her arms hang behind her, her jaw hangs open, she stares up at the night sky and sees white stars. It is black up there now, the clouds are gray and still. Mercadia breathes deep and lets it out slowly, enjoying the feeling of air blowing against the inside of her lips.
I did it.
“But it’s not over yet.” She’s not gullible anymore, “That would be too easy.”
They’re still out there. The hunters weren’t really after her after all. They wanted her baby, and now that she isn’t carrying it she’s nothing. They’ll burn him down, or chop him up with axes. Perhaps they’d prune him first for spite, never mind this tree will end the plagues of Milera as they know them. Never mind that those horrors are over.
She feels Melkam’s presence before he speaks. She wonders for a moment how he is here away from his territory, but she supposes this mountain is his sibling. That’s probably just as good as territory. He says:
“Run along, woman.”
Mercadia stands up straight and stretches, smiles, it’s a mother’s smile. “I’ve already run to my grave, Melkam. Where else is there to go?”
Melkam smiles too, facing her now, and she doesn’t hate him. “Very good, Mercadia, are you ready for your final trial?”
Mercadia nods, more tears but these are good ones. She knew there wouldn’t just be three trials. “I must die for my child.”
“Yes.” He holds out his hand and she grasps it. “Come.”
They walk down the mountain and stop at the foot of it. Melkam cannot set foot off the soil.
But the wall is his doing, so he can undo it.
A great rusted sickle bursts out the bottom of the wall and cleaves upwards; the non-flesh there explodes into liquid mulch and the hunters can see them again. They reload; aim at the spirit and the woman. Squeezes Melkam’s hand, holds her breath, shuts her eyes tight.
Then the last volley of bullets.



18



The crack in the wall that Melkam opened blows apart opens thirty feet wider like a dam shattering. The rest of the wall dissolves the same way as though set with explosives. A rush of supernatural mist pours out of the hallucinatory rubble
But it is not Melkam.
For it is white and bright blue.
A fog of holy feathers drowns the entire field and lingers there as though everything has been washed with milk. Little wings float of their own accord all over the field just like fireflies at midnight. Everything glows now, everything glows.
Mercadia’s father watches in the distance, is about to run away. But a giant and terrible eye like a great spear of ice opens up in the fog and freezes him with hatred. The eye becomes a swarm of steaming daggers and rolls across the fields at him, kicking up the earth like a rabid harvester.
He doesn’t have a second to move an inch, his body is mutilated beyond repair, and with him the hill is sliced in half.
There is not a living body here this night. Mercadia’s father and his army of mercenaries evaporate and become oxygen, enriching the air for her baby.
At the top of the hill there is a luminous white bud shaped like a candle flame, glowing in the moonlight.
Thus ends Milera’s sixteen years of Mercy.

Epilogue



It takes the tree of life a whole year to grow to its fullest potential.
When Jared steps out of his woods he is met with the coolest rush of air in the world. The oxygen here is as nourishing as a mother’s love. He has ages yet to live.
He has come here to visit every day since that night. Sometimes he stays just for a few minutes if he has many chores. But it is normal for him to spend the better part of his day here. He has loved watching Mercadia’s child grow. He has loved sitting here with the new Mercadia.
The Tree of Life is glorious. He stands a hundred feet tall and his branches reach for miles in all directions. His leaves are dark blue spades and his bark is luminous white, it glows like the fish at the bottom of the ocean. The knots in the wood turn occasionally, as though they are eyes scanning the horizon. He is an amazing and powerful life form.
You’d think he wouldn’t need any protection.
In Milera, heaven is not a place: it is a higher form of life. When her body was destroyed by that swarm of flaming lead, she became a spirit like Melkam with the power to protect her child. For as long as this tree stands nourishing Milera, she will be the invisible barrier between him and all vicious things.
Jared picks up a rock as the base of the tree and hurls it at the center. But instead of striking the bark a whirl of feathers catches the rock, drops it and it falls back to the ground, never coming even close to the tree.
“Stop being rude.” Mercadia says, using all the land as her mouth.
“Just making sure you’re still here.” He mocks, and he smiles. He feels Mercadia smile too.
Jared plops down and looks up at Mercadia’s wondrous creation. He reaches into his bag and pulls out an orange. He peels it and tosses the rind on the ground. Mercadia doesn’t care, “Compost for my baby!” she might declare. Jared has not burned a single living tree.
Of course, Jared does not just come to admire the tree of life. Blue and white feathers float around it constantly just like dust particles in a shaft of light. This is Mercadia as she is now: a guardian for her child just as Melkam was a guardian for her.
Melkam merged with the planet. Mercadia tells Jared that his consciousness has become something new. She won’t tell him what. He asked her once if he is even on Milera anymore, and she said nothing.
“Didn’t you think he would be immortal as a spirit of the planet Mercadia?” He asked.
“Oh I did.” She admitted, not being human she now finds it easy to confess the truth. “But he is somewhere else now, something else now. And the same thing will happen to you and me. My child too.”
“Because nothing is permanent.” Said Jared, then Mercadia:
“Not even death.”

THE END


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Publication Date: 01-18-2010

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