Nine

"Savior!" Barque snarled back. His voice rose in anger but he was approaching her with caution.
"Your timing's terrible," he continued. "If you think you're going to stop me again, you're mistaken. I'm not even thinking of striking right now."
"That's not why I'm here," Ember said, "and I'm really not interested in you anyway. I always know what you're up to."
"Sure," he scoffed, "that's why you're not at all surprised to see me here now. Face it, little one, you just got lucky last time."
"And the time before that, I suppose?" she countered, and he shrugged. Barque turned away as if he had conquered the contest, and Ember turned her attention to Baudry.
"What about you, old man? What's your excuse?"
"Nice to see you too, little one," Baudry bowed in reply. "I'm honored to even occupy space around you."
"So answer the question," she snapped, but Edeline interrupted her with another of her interminably ignorant questions.
"So this is that tree you were talking about?" she asked, pointing at the dogwood which Barque was now leaning against. As if on queue, Barque started forward with a sudden lurch. Who was this? he asked himself, noticing the newcomer for the first time. His interest was considerably aroused.
"Hello," he cooed, gallantly stepping forward. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure."
"You're always having the pleasure," Ember grunted, but as Barque took a step toward Edeline, Edeline took a step back. Her attempt to conceal herself behind the child was, however, doomed to failure. Barque kept on coming until he was standing by her side. Leaning over her shoulder he droned, in what he thought was a most romantic tone,
"My name's Barque. I'm the top player in the game. Ask anyone, they'll tell you."
"He's the biggest something all right," Ember remarked, and Baudry burst out laughing. Barque was not amused.
"She's spiteful," he said, winking at Edeline. "Some of us are more fortunate in our outcomes than others."
"Some of us," he continued, "remain in the peakest of peak conditions, and not just now, but for always. You are, I presume," he asked, "a thirty two? If I may be so bold."
"I'm fifty one years old," Edeline promptly replied, drawing guffaws from all three of the veterans.
"And they just found you out?" Barque could hardly believe it. "Why weren't you here a decade ago? Or five or six years ago at the least."
"You should be proud of yourself," Baudry agreed. "Were you holed up somewhere for those years? How did you get away with it?"
"I have no idea what any of you are talking about," Edeline sighed. "Are all of you always speaking in riddles? I was just living my life until first thing yesterday morning. Someone knocked on my door and the next thing I know I'm stuck here in cuckoo-land with nothing but nonsense around me."
Edeline backed away further from Barque, who seemed on the verge of grabbing her boobs. He was certainly staring at them most rudely, covered in vines as they were.
"You'll make a fine addition to the collection," he leered.
"That's not your decision," Ember reminded him, to which Barqye only replied with another of his patented winks, as if to say, "wait until she samples the field. She'll come round."
"What are you doing here anyway?" Ember demanded to know.
"I was called," Barque told her, puffing out his chest in proud punctuation.
"Me too," volunteered Baudry, conscious as he was of being completely ignored once again.
"Ridiculous," Ember snorted.
"That's what I said when this one told me," Barque replied, gesturing towards Baudry.
"So The Hidden One's calling idiots at random?" Ember queried to no one especially.
"If that's what you are," Barque retorted, "then what am I? No, wait."
"Just be quiet," Ember threw up her hands and began pacing back and forth in front of the tree.
"It doesn't make sense," she muttered out loud. "A burned out old flutist, a swaggering braggart, a rookie who doesn't know diddly, and a sagacious wise veteran who knows all the ways of this world. What could she possibly be thinking?"
"Sagacious?" Barque cackled, "sagacious? Really? Pugnacious more like it. Snotatious, if that's even a word."
"Does anyone ever listen to you?" Ember groaned.
"If they're winners," he tossed back, "or want to be, ever."
"Stupid game," Ember mumbled, "this one thinks it matters. Well, play by the rules, that's all you can do."
"Silence!"
The word was spoken in all of their minds simultaneously, and with it came a loud crash in their brains like a giant tree falling. Involuntarily, each of them jumped back one giant step and stared around at each other, trying to figure out who had been speaking.
"Now listen to me!" came the voice in their minds once again.
"The Hidden One!", Baudry exclaimed. "But where is she?"
"I'm right here," the voice said, "but you cannot see me. Do you understand why?"
"Um, because you are hidden?" Edeline guessed.
"Smart girl," the voice murmured softly. "You'll do after all."
By now the four callees had all looked around at every square inch of terrain, and not seeing anything resembling a person or even an animal, they all gathered at the base of the particular tree as if they had been silently commanded. Not knowing where to look, they shuffled in place, each one as uncertain as the others.
"Look over here, if you must focus somewhere," said the voice, and to all of them the sound seemed to come from one place, a large flowering rhododendron just off to the left.
"Now then," the voice continued, It was an old voice, of this they all later agreed, and a gentle one too. There was nothing unkind in its tenor.
"I know you're all wondering what this is about, so I will come to the point. Granddaughter?" she asked, and Ember stepped forward, obediently.
"Yes ma'am", she meekly replied, suddenly acting like the child she visibly resembled.
"My dear," The Hidden One said, "it's been a long time, for reasons which I believe you quite understand."
"I didn't know what to think," Ember said to the air. "Could it be true? One hundred and twenty eight years old?"
"I know, I know," The Hidden One said. "It was bad enough to catch it at seventy, and then not to know until my late eighties, when they rounded us up, you and I. We escaped for so long, but we couldn't evade them forever. They were brutal, I'm sure you remember. Ruthless, relentless and cruel, but we outlasted them all in the end. Since they didn't destroy us, they had to forsake us. I was already more than a hundred by then. I could barely stand up, There was no way for me, not here in the trees. And so I had to go underground, Under the ground's where I went, and under the ground's where I stayed, in this spot, in this very grove, and still I remain. Still I remain. No! Don't come closer!" her voice rose in anguish as Ember began to approach.
"You must not come near. It's not safe. Stay back and listen to what I must say."
Ember stepped back, and bowed her head slightly. She hadn't meant to upset the old woman. It was just that she'd loved her so much, and after all the two had been through together, still missed her, after all of these years.
"How long has it been?" Ember asked. "Fifty or sixty by now? I've lost count."
"There's no need to keep it, now, is there?" The Hidden One said, then went on.
"I've thought long and hard about everything that's happened to us, about who we are, what we are, and what we might do to return to the way that we were."
"Is it even possible?" Baudry blurted out.
"There might be a way," The Hidden One said. "But it all will depend upon you. I can't do it myself, and so I have summoned each one of you. The task requires you all."
At this the four all turned to each other and examined one another's faces with concern and alarm. Their thoughts, though different in detail, were essentially one and the same. "I need you, and you, and you? Oh, good grief! This will probably not turn out well."
"What must we do?" the smallest one asked.
"It has come to me in a vision," The Hidden One said. "This very world we reside in holds the key, for the same thing that caused this place to come into being is the one thing that created those such as us. Some would call it a virus. Others might call it mutation. What has been changed can change back, if only the inputs are set in reverse."
"Antitode," Ember breathed.
"It's been searched for before," Baudry added, remembering similar ideas from the past.
"Not quite," said the voice. "This will be something that will set in motion a process, not a cure, not a thing, but a sequence, an unraveling, resulting in a restoration of a natural order. What we need is to make the first move."
"I'm ready," Barque boldly declared, although he knew nothing about what was involved.
"Each of you must be," The Hidden One said, "Now I don't have much time to speak left. It's a labor for me and soon I must rest. Listen closely."
At this they all took a step forward and tilted their heads, as if this would help them absorb what she said.
"There is a tree," she declared, "a remarkable tree, and within that tree is a knothole. Inside of that hole, a thing must be placed, a remarkable thing, which must come from a remarkable place. Your task, my friends, is simply to find that place, retrieve that thing, take it to the tree, and place it in the hole. Once in the hole the thing shall be devoured by a certain squirrel. Then shall the process begin, That is all."
At this, the voice fell silent. The four persons who stood in front of the bush remained quiet for several long moments. Finally, it was Ember who spoke.
"Where is this remarkable place?" she asked, but this time there was no reply.
"What is the remarkable thing?" Baudry asked. "Or at least what kind of thing is it?" he added.
"Is it bigger than a breadbox?" Edeline pitched in, after another long interval of silence.
"Is it a pinecone?" she guessed, drawing an elbow in the thigh from Ember.
"Oh, this is good," Barque groaned, breaking away from the others and stomping around in a circle. "Priceless! Just great!"
"Hidden One?" Baudry called out in vain. "Oh, Hidden One?"
Again, there was not a reply.
"I guess she really is gone," Ember finally said.
"And you've finally said something that I can agree with," said Barque, throwing a fake punch at the trunk of the particular tree.