"I Can See The Forest" by Sabrina E G Withers

I sit here on the edge of a cliff that marks the boundary of the city and I watch the bazaar beneath me. It bustles with colour and sound. So far above it I cannot smell the spices or ground down dust that surely rises under their feet. The purity of the whitewashed walls is a mirage, hiding the dark underbelly that always exists in such a place. I can feel it calling me but I have other things to do. I have been told to watch and watch I will.

There is a movement where there should be none and I know it is what I am here to see. I see them approach, crawling across a roof like serpents in the sand. It is amazing to me that in a world that continuously grows skywards, no one thinks to look up. It is just as well that I am not here to kill them; they would never stand a chance. However, what makes me deadly to them also gives them an edge over the people milling below them. They are not here to deal in death though; instead they search for more elusive gain. The seemingly thin material of the awnings takes their weight with barely a movement. There are birds flying above them, looking for stray scraps of food from the stalls below.

I call out from deep within me. There is magic in the breath of the city if you know how to use it. There is food here, I say, more than you could ever need for your fledglings. The birds heed my call, flying away from the thieves, who despite their stealth would startle my feathered friends. The birds approach me like a beacon for all to see but most veer away sharply before coming too close, well aware that I am lying to them. They do not hold it against me, but I apologise nonetheless.

One bird settles near to me and I ask it to let me see what it has seen. It puffs out its chest as it coos at me but I smile and it scuttles closer. As I touch its feathers images filter into my head, distorted views of what I have already seen from afar. Birds focus on things that interest them and thieves carry little that would draw their eye. I see loaves of bread risen and ready to sell, and fruit turned ripe under the midday sun. Glints of metal fill my sight until I realise it is from a passing cart, its wheels studded with gleaming bolts of metal. Finally I catch a glimpse of that which I have been searching for. A stray image, barely clear enough to recognise, showing me the thief’s face. The three-pronged tattoo on his cheek is all I need to see as my eyes again focus on what is before me.

I have missed their strike it seems for a merchant already lies helpless on the ground. I have no need to watch them further however for I have confirmed what I came here to see. The guards are already on their trail trying to find the elusive shadows. I wish them well in their hunt, though they will have no true success. They do not know what the thieves stole, but I do.

Some would say that what is before me is but rocks placed one on top of another, but the city is living. Its people are the blood that keeps it breathing. The guards that I leave behind me, as I travel further into the city, are the things that fight illness within the sick. They are not infallible for they can only defend against what they see, what they know to be a threat. The subtle tides that fill these streets are an enigma to them. So many things happen here that they cannot see the forest for the trees.

My feet lead me onwards. I do not need to worry where I step for I know this city, every contour is etched within my soul. I jump with ease from roof to roof, the wind around me calling my name. When I stop it is as if the world tips on its axis, a grinding movement that makes me grimace. I can feel the wrong here even through all the good. It aches in my lungs as I struggle to breathe again. Everything hurts; it should not hurt so much.

What can it be that draws me here? That stopped me before I reached my destination. I look down into the street below me, trying to find what has snatched my goal from me. I can see nothing at all. There is no movement amongst the shadows. A rat scurries past, thinking, as I do, that there is nothing here to worry about. The cat pouncing on it is my warning too. As the thieves should have done earlier, I turn to look up.

The brief flash of darkness that swoops past me is the only hint I get that I am not alone. I try to search them out but cannot see where they have gone. Crouching, I try to regain my confidence. They have not seen me; of that I am sure, for I am of the city and it is of me. I was born here and by it I was raised. I know its secrets just as it knows mine. However some doubt remains, how could I not have known them?

The moment has passed. The undertow of the city re-emerges from beneath the darkness that the shadows cast. The current I was following still tugs at me but I cannot ignore the force that makes its way to the centre of the city’s flow. They are aiming for the city’s heart. That purpose I can draw from them just as I could see the treasure the thieves desired. Ever beating, they wish to take a knife to this most precious of things and end this city’s life.

Do they know what they attempt to do? Do they truly understand what will happen? I think they are deceived if they believe they can make this city fall. I know for the city has told me. Its heart is hidden, ever moving, beating to keep the city strong. I wish to know more of this shadow, so I will follow and watch its search as I have watched the bazaar. They will come to find that they cannot hide from the city. It knows what happens within its walls.

I am wary of them for I know the danger they pose and I will not risk my life needlessly, the city forbids it and I can but follow its command. When they enter the guildhall I simply watch from the roof of a tailor’s workshop, feeling the steady patience within as the apprentices’ stitch row after row. I am surprised the shadows think they will find what they seek within that long forgotten building.

Suddenly, I can feel death from within. Death is always a part of the city, just as births are, but this is different. The shadows do not belong to this city and I know that they are the cause. I can feel anger growing inside me. They are destroying the pieces of my puzzle! These are my people, each one vital to the life of my city and they end them. Tearing down the foundations I have helped keep strong with but a twist of a knife.

I want to race down there and do to them as they do to the souls within but I swore to stay protected. I am not alone in my rage however as the city rumbles. Each stone beneath me shivers with fury and I fall to my knees to not be overwhelmed. I cannot let the killing continue, I know they search in vain but they will not stop until they find the heart.

As I put my hands to the stone and plaster that make up this city, I can feel its heart beating. It can never be caged and suddenly I know what I must do. The city whispers reassurance and yet it is a heavy burden to bear to destroy part of my home, my soul, in order to protect it. Not a loss, I tell myself, for the stones remain and the people can rebuild.

Rock upon rock, sand beneath sand, I call forth the strength of the city. Doors will no longer open and windows remain shuttered as the walls of the guildhall start to fall inwards. I wince at the pain I feel, as if the city is my own flesh. I am forced to close my eyes to the sight before me as the tears well up inside me.

It is the silence that fills my ears, which makes me dare to look at what I have wrought. Others too have come to see the dust that settles over the street. First one, then another of the people below me starts to shift the stones. I can feel their determination to free any survivors and it warms my heart, their power flowing though my veins.

I too must look for the living. None of the shadows must escape to harm the city again. I slip down the side of the building and, with the city as my guide, move into the one part of the building that still stands. Those that dig outside will worry that the walls may yet fall and the ceiling yet crumble. I can feel their strength however and know I have time.

The darkness is oppressive and the dust thick, but I can feel my goal ahead of me. Half hidden under rubble lies a black clad figure, chest steadily rising and falling in the only sign of life. I brush the cloth from his face and wonder at someone so young finding his way to a city so obviously not his own. What could have driven him to kill? I place my hand on his forehead and as I did with the bird I see what he has seen. This time however I do not ask, this time I take.

The pictures come fast and furious, for humans remember more than the birds in the sky, and I have a hard time filtering what I see. He is with his brethren, faces painted dark, crawling in another place. I release him, startled both by what I see and also by the shudder that signals his final breath. They have done this before. This is not the first heart they have sought.

The image of the child in my mind is so innocent, and her guardians so fierce. How could they believe they would succeed? She of all people would know how to shape the flows of her own city. It may have lost its heart as she fled to safety, but she will return to her people. She can feel her way home even if she does not know it. That city so far from my own may suffer in her absence but her return will make it stronger; for she will have seen the outside world and she will have learned her place within it.

A stone falls behind me and I know I must leave. This is not the time for reflection. They must not find me here. The dark will hinder them and is my only advantage as the stones show me the way. The guards will come and the builders, as they try to understand what they cannot know. They will bury the dead even though they know not their names. These assassins will lie in unmarked graves and the dust will cover the memory of them, just as my pain too shall pass. It is fitting that they should become part of the city they seemed so willing to destroy.

I make my way to the high places again. The need to see the city beneath me fills my soul. The undertow of the city calls to me again, the flows ever changing. I stand with my face to the sun and breathe with the city. My heart beats blood round my body, just like the pulse of life around me. I have something new to watch. I can feel it call to me. There is a merchant in the cloth district who will find a treasure on his doorstep. He does not know why it has been left there, but I do. I do.