OCR Text |
Show WORTHING FARM/2 of Waters. From the Heaven Mountains south to the Stipock Sea the wood was master, and the people who lived there were constant and desperate rebels against its sovereignty. In recent years as the two cities of Hux and Linkeree arose, it appeared that at last the forest's rule would be thrown off. But the dark heart of the world seemed to realize that this was its fight to the death, its last battle, and that to survive and to rule, the forest would have to free itself of men. It had only one weapon with which to fight. No snow fell during the winter, and all through the spring no rain came to the Forest of Waters. The roots of the trees burrowed deep and found last year's water. Grain threw roots down fast and far, but not fast and far enough, and they clung to dust. The river was lower than it had ever been before, and it ran slow and thick and brown, twenty feet out from the old shoreline. Elijah dipped in the buckets and carried them sloshing back to Worthing Farm. When he came to the field again he stopped. The stalks of grain were still short, and they had turned brown in the sun. Faint traces of green still streaked the leaves. Elijah reached his hand into the bucket and let water dribble from his fingers to the roots of a few plants. The drops of water immediately were glazed with dust and skittered across the surface, then slowed, then stopped and vanished without a trace. Elijah had long since given up trying to water his crops from the river. A hundred men couldn't carry enough water to bring life back to this field. The water was for Alana and John and little Worin. And for |